#fantomal

[walledflower]

@fantomal​  📷 for a lyrical starter

                                 “ Everything that I could be. I am so scared that I'm failing. I don't know why I can't seem to sleep these days ... ”

[allacciare]

gentle creature of moonlight desire  ,    her doe  -  eyes     (    wide  ,   startled  ,    as if caught un aware  ----    a rabbit ensared in the hunter’s trap    )    her hand rested against sternum  ,    pressed listlessly to the frightened flutter of her heart  ----    trembling  ,    and aching  ,    and chilled by the darkness around her    ❝    i  ----     i don’t know where i am  ,    i am afraid that i am very lost  ,    signore    ❞     for i once more wander  :    a newly awakened animal  ,    caught in the webs of dreams    /    drifting in the places inbetween reality  .     and perhaps you are an angel  ,    a guardian lingering in shadows  ----    or perhaps you are the ferryman  ,    the reaper come from my nightmares at last to steal me away forever    ❝    per favore  ,    where am i  ?    ❞

@fantomal​   ,      𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔯

[griimarch]

@fantomal​ asked; ❛ i am not a legend, i’m a fraud. ❜

Laughing, she agreed, hell, even she was a fraud, not that Gemma cared. “Most people are a fraud you realize that, right? No one person on this damned planet is original” Gemma had realized that a long time ago. Because of that, it made her laugh when she saw people say, ‘there is no one like me.’ “Though, I am sure there is a good reason why you decided to tell me this.” Glancing over, she held her coffee “though I bet you a shit ton of money that if you didn’t care what people thought of you… You’d have a much better life.” Because she sure did.

[heartshards]

“ but you dream of some epiphany ”

                 " there's none to be had. " she answers, the shadow-soaked voice having long since lost its haunting timbre. the dressing room carpet smells faintly of powder, but it's a place to rest, shielded from the eyes of onlookers. ( well, save for one ) ––––––––– " I don't dream anyway, " she retorts, rubbing at her eyes until she can make out the hour hand of the clock. it's somewhere in the vicinity of four am. that gives her at least until nine when the first crew members arrive to begin set-up –– and when she enacted her daily routine of pretending she simply preferred having hours and hours with which to warm-up before the first showing. also, she's lying. she does dream. but most nights her dreams are laden with strange echoes, half-finished lullabies and the intermittent cries of the sister she hasn't seen in years. nothing of those could bring her any peace. and nothing of those were any of some phantom's business. with her clipped tone, she suggests –––––– I don't fear you. not anymore than I fear myself.