#flwersrot

[skyfulcfstars]

      “could you two be any more adorable? it’s disgusting.” her comment is in jest, of course. there are few she adores more than eurydice and her poet except for maybe cerberus (and that’s only because he can’t talk and it’s a gods damn blessing). she’s stretched across the sofa with little decorum in a green room in some city she can’t think to remember because they’d arrived in the middle of the night and she’s exhausted as hell and if she’s going to do this interview in an hour she’s going to need a fuckload more coffee. 

    “hermes texted. meet and greets are sold out.” she adds, pressing a pillow over her face with a heavy sigh. “and your manager called. i didn’t answer.”

@flwersrot

[songdreamt-a]

{ @flwersrot | sc }

“Your name is like a melody!”

[skyfulcfstars-a]

@flwersrot <3′d 

       the summer is long and for the first time in a good long while, doesn’t end early. by the time persephone is steppin’ off the train into the underworld on her husband’s arm, it’s six months to the day. it’s a start, to them tryin’. it feels less hot. less stuffy. the noise and lights aren’t nearly as much. hadestown is still just that - hadestown - but persephone figures it’s high time she kicked her own ass into gear. half this world is hers and she’s tired of concrete and steel. but her lover’s done a start, and she’ll take the small victories. the riots have quelled for now, very least. life has come back to the underworld to remind them things can still change. the king’s heart exists and she intends to soften it back into the man she knew.

  it takes her a week to work up the courage to find the girl. eurydice. 

     “got somethin’ for you, girl.” she captures her by the arm, the queen of hell melting from the shadows to fall into step with her after a shift. “sorry it’s taken me this long to find you. had to deal with boss man. c’mon. we’ll go to my office.”

[stormlit]

CALL / @flwersrot

        ❝ yeah, death’s not really all it’s cracked up to be. ❞ twice, now, suzie’s died, and twice it has been unending darkness and fear, it has been things moving in the dark ( it’s coming for you, jack harkness ) and a desperate grappling back towards the light, towards the living. third time’s a charm, huh? suzie doesn’t know if she’s deserving of this, she doesn’t know if she’s only prolonging the inevitable --- even you can’t make yourself immortal, suzie, no matter how many underhand tricks you ply --- but she’s got it, and she’s taking it. with both hands. jack harkness himself couldn’t take it away from her, this time.  ❝ it’s a load of bollocks, actually. give me this world any day. ❞

[andessence]

💌 for orpheus uwu

great comet vc: a love letter! // @flwersrot

Eurydice,

I woke up this morning and the birds were singing Singing your name, yes, just so!They chirped and I heard it joyful, ringing, They whistled, I heard it keening, low.           The birds never make their songs, you know.           They sing just what they hear.

It was the wind this morning brought it To all them wild birdsHe blew in gentle and they caught itHe murmured and was heard          The wind is messenger only, though          Bringing notes too distant near He said he heard it from the sun Who saw you in the fieldAnd brushed the trees when day was doneTo dusk and moon to yield

          The sun heard the very earth below          Hum a tune so dear

                    Now I don’t know where first it started                    Who made the tune — how many hearts it’s won                    But I know it and I know wholehearted                    I didn’t learn it from birds, wind, or sun

                   I don’t sing the things I hear                    But what I see inside my head                    I’m told they’re visions from the gods                    Never fading, never dead

                   Darling, did they teach me Eurydice?                    Or did I find it on my own?                    Oh heart, don’t doubt what you know to be:                    She’s someone I have always known.

—Orpheus

PS. Out to walk with Mr. Hermes. I’ll be back by dark.

[springsung-blog]

if only the days could always be like this   ------   the cool summer breeze wafting in the air as the sun slowly sets   ,   emitting a soft golden glow that only seems to glisten against his muse’s skin. even whilst laying in the grass   ,   his lover looked beautiful    &   the poet can’t help but admire her fully   ,  realizing just how fortunate he was that he had managed to capture her heart   ,   just as she had captured his the first moment they laid eyes on one another at the bar. turning on his side so that he could see the songbird in full   ,   he offers her a timid smile   ,   hair falling over his visage.   ❝   eurydice   ,   ❞   the poet begins   ,   tone almost always breathless when uttering her name.   ❝   everyone has dreams. i’ve told you mine   &   you haven’t told me yours. what do you dream about   ?   ❞

       @flwersrot   /   starter call   !

[hwlndog-blog]

( A HUNGRY YOUNG GIRL : @flwersrot ) 

          like a trio of bees they follow her, or else like three vultures who wheel high above some weak thing they’ve spotted, waiting. they’re always there, there with their whispers, there with their songs, there to blow the candle out, soon as she lights it. they’re there in the morning and in the afternoon, too, and in the evening. on and on, and how long has it been? oh, near as long as she’s lived, they’re sure. at least since the first time she seemed to defy lachesis’s measure. 

        there will come a day she can’t stop atropos’s scissors, but it’s not today : they know. they know it’s not, they can feel it. they can hear it. and maybe it’s for the best, they think, as she pads her way into some new place. it gives them a little more time, after all, to play. 

          “don’t get too attached, eurydice,” lachesis murmurs, slipping up beside the girl, hooking an arm up ‘round her shoulders. “just another place you’ll never stay.” clotho giggles,  a skip in her step as they wind their way through the buildings, as somewhere far away a train whistles low. “and why do you think they’d bother with you, anyway?” atropos finishes, following the other three as though to lock eurydice upon her path. “why stop at all?” 

[songdreamt-a]

{ @flwersrot | sc }

“Come home with me!”