#frysse

[coyotlindo]

he is a summer child, trapped in such a cold place. the ballroom is warmer, filled with decorations of a worth unlike any he's ever seen before. and filled with the heat that cumulates from all the expensively dressed guests dancing, laughing, drinking and clinking glasses. he on the other hand carries the tray, silver balanced on unpracticed hand. but it is all a show, just a disguise. a pretense which lets him attend such a prized gathering in the first place. and it is a price, in all its glory and with treasures that adorn the halls, ripe for the taking. and their owners wouldn't miss a thing if one or two of them were to come into the possession of a less fortunate soul like him.

" f— forgive me, i just . . . " half genuine and half exaggerated insecurity. he remembers to redirect his gaze to the floor at last, cease his impolite staring. he probably shouldn't be speaking to someone of her status at all. " i've never seen anything like this. " the hall, her presence, or maybe all of it at once. and that is a genuine truth.

@frysse / sc.

[bllakc4tmoved]

WHAT A CHARMING SIGHT, : ATTENTION STOLEN AS SHE WALKS THROUGH THE LARGE DOORS ... &. though those 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 are decorated by an enchanting smile, it does not remove the mischievous edge to it. she attends this hosted event as a representitive of the house hardy, she is the only one who is capable. ( long gone are the days she could hold her father's hand, as they attended these grand events. ) OBSERVANT EYES TAKE A QUICK GLANCE OF HER SURROUNDINGS, subtle with this act : until they fixate upon the prize at the end of the hall, standing before the throne. ... echoes of the clicks of her heels drown into the surrounding sounds, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃! ( she makes sure of that. ) THERE IS A CERTAIN GLIMMER TO HER GAZE, one this MYSTERIOUS ENIGMA won't allow anyone to wrap a finger around. ... standing just few feet away from the queen's figure, she performs a graceful bow of her head. ❝ your highness, ... ❞ title mixes with a greeting, SILVERTONGUE SMOOTHLY ROLLING THE WORDS OFF IT.

&. @frysse IS A WITNESS TO THE CURLED LUSH LIPS, : DANGEROUS CURIOSITY SPARKED! blame it upon her observant ways ( what kind of thief would she be without them? ) or blame it upon the way 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑! ... WHAT A CURIOUS FEELING, something that only increased upon the two locking their gaze. &. here she had thought this night would be a bore! ❝ i must thank you for the kind invitation. ❞ THE SIREN BEGINS HER SONG!

[goetiya]

HE WAS AN ATROCITY, A CREATURE OF LIMINAL SPACES. a man coated in petrichor. having crawled up from the earth's many layers of dirt. abyssal and naught for the faint of heart. he had constructed monstrosities, replications of the self: readied weapons at his beck and call. harrowed by the faux promises, the lack of loyalty and his nauseating knack of delving too deep toward starless dark. not letting himself feel anything, numbing it with disdain and distance. marred by his vengeance, letting it settle between his bones and in the sanguine thrumming through his veins. half-light kept his countenance partially veiled, perhaps it showed his age. ❝ i think you like the way poison tastes, elsa. you drink it down graciously. my company simply cannot be so pleasant. ❞ accent thick, trying to pick a fight — perhaps. he had to make some sort justification to her, something she might find tangible for his behaviour.

his nose was currently broken, bloodied. his fists carried the very same daunted destruction. peeled skin, and distorted dermis not yet healed. they needed the money, and he enjoyed the physicality of fighting without his curse gifts. it helped him feel alive. seeing the evidence of life on his hands and body like a bruised canvas.

the way they'd both have lived through the many centuries. no martyr, nor master — it didn't matter in this life, what they were or who he had been. the earth cried, the people scavenged. joy seemed a far off dream. but he had also become bleak, letting himself desaturate. ❝ don't be angry with me.. i won. but i noticed ( @frysse ) you weren't there. ❞ frown etches into scuffed lip. he was high on adrenalin. ( yet somehow he managed a softness reserved purely for her. ) having won all of his matches and coming out the victor of the nights festivities.

❝ — the pain is nothing. we have the means to keep this place another few months. ❞ liar, liar, liar.

[daylighterarchived]

[ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ] : receiver hears sender calling their name while asleep. :)

a man with weaker hearing would have missed it, but he felt the vibrations of her voice piercing the night like a stitch. through the fog of smoke, a contemplative brow, and a book weighty in his hands when sleep eluded him, the circus art of his mind had kept him wanting and willing for more. this was a maze of his own making, where his thoughts took him far and near from home all the same; the ripe ambition of where a knife fit, the enemies sequestered to the shelves like readings to be completed, and the narrowness of this flat, eliminating space as if it made it safer to traverse. ❛ elsa? ❜ she had put her hands to his face yesterday, tried to wring the suspicions of the world from his mind (which, and he'd told her this, is what he had suspected too, thus proving her point with a smile), but countering no success, he had nearly laughed.

now his suspicions lurch elsewhere: what was frysse dreaming of without him, who did she dream of if not him?

ruffled, he rose from his perch in the lounge, where he had settled to avoid disrupting her. he had never been an easy, restful sleeper, always light in his attendance of dreams and ready to spring up if needed, which made for a sullen bed partner on tired nights. as he entered now, he took in the shape of her half buried under duvets, her hair loosed from their braid over a navy pillow. at last he'd caught the name of the paramour consuming her dreams. settling at her bedside, his brows furrowed contemplatively. he reached out, tentative, and touched his fingers to her shoulder first, head canted to catch the soft pinch of her expression. ❛ what's the matter with you? ❜ he said, without true bite. and with her back turned to him in sleep, he would lean by and close the short distance between them, until his mouth brushed the slant of her neck with a hum. ❛ haven't gone anywhere. i'm right here. ❜

*  ﹙ for you i would, ﹚ accepting.

[wonedeus]

* / AGAINST THE BEGINNING CHILL OF AUTUMNAL AIR, as the wind shifts to an unfamiliar promise of winter... she always forgets the hassle of travel, the stretching of her skin to acclimate herself to another landscape, another existence she must learn, in both understanding and assisting. the gushing of cool that accompanies her jet door's prompt opening.... already, she misses the warmth of Paradise. in the privacy of her mind does she bid blessing to Hestia [ a moment of dramatics, though she notices how her assistant shivers from the gust ], the smallness of a smile playing on her mouth as she leaves the craft, her committee following suit. the Ambassador walks in long strides, silver gaze set straight ahead; her eyes fall on the figure of white and blue... the smile she wears only grows larger.

THERE IS A PRIVATE JOY SHE HOLDS IN ENCOUNTERING FABLES; there is an even stronger joy when these fables carry a similar weight of time. she feel kinship like a budding flame, the center of her heart making itself clay. a final step is taken forwards...

❝  Diana Prince ( … ) i come on behalf of Paradiseos, of Themyscira... ❞ the golden crown tips forwards in a small bow, a cascade of black curls falling away from her shoulders, then resuming their position back against. the woman looks at the other ( @frysse ) with a shade of admiration, another shade of intrigue and interest. she meets the ice - blue gaze.

behind her, an assistant rustles through loose papers. the Ambassador continues to look forwards, towards the woman; her eyes refuse to waver, even as a man behind her ( dressed in a crisp black suit and even blacker sunglasses... dramatics, of course... ) reaches forwards with small box. it's a decorative thing, its exterior decorated with gold and red accents and its lid made of gauzy glass. the woman takes it in her hands and glances downwards at it, and the back at the other.

❝  our Chancellor, she wished for me to give you a small gift of the islands, as means of our gratitude. a few cuttings of Themyscrian flora, some of our best and brightest plants... i hope you are fond of bluebells. ❞

[endurons]

the   river   has   𝒘ept   a   bountiful   mist   and   a   cull   clings   to   it   and   rises   as   the   very   moonshine   does   this   night.   a   feather- white   apparition   is   caught   in   the   wind,   her   edges   dislimning   in   the   haze,   in   the   wood–   and   all   at   once   she   is   lunar-haloed   and   i   make   the   brief   mistake   of   thinking   her   but a   woman.     it   seems   she   is   not   so   moored   as   i.   into   near   obscurity   is   our   brumal   presence   smudged,   not   a   breath   shared   between   us      /      not   a   blink,   i   do   not   want   to   miss   her   shape :   she   is   what   appears   to   me   a   transient   sigh ,   wavering,   to   be   undone   with   the   passing   of   the   breeze.   if   there   were   any   sign   of   life   here,   it   has   not yet   revealed   itself   to   me.

“   a   beautiful   call,   ”   and   i   make   no instant   effort to   approach   @frysse.   time   and   time   again,   we   have   been   little   but   flickering   starlets   in   the   early hours   to   one   another,   as   i   smeared   blood   in   silence   across   her   kingdom.  ( i   muse   for   a   moment   how   fares   her   kin   in   these   years,   if   perhaps   she   grieves   a   sister   still )   i   have   felt   her,   her   silhouette   in   the   window   a   stranger   to   me,   my   kind.   a   flavor   of   continuance   not   reached   by   my   claw.   “   enfin ⸻   curious   by   dusk   was   i   to   see   if   you   might   come   find   me   once   more.   and curious   you   are   to   me.   ”   if   she   bats an eye now,   she   will   miss   my   advance,   drawing   nigh   to   the   incorporeal   one.   “    i’ve   cleaned   up   well   enough,   i   do   hope.   ”