#literacae

[movedto-lazaraes]

“          i          am          someone          who          did          not          die          when          they          should          of          .          ”

THEY          ARE          GHOSTS                    .               the          both          of          them                    .               they          are          corpses          walking          around          half          rot                    .               rigor          mortis          setting          in          at          their          fingertips                    .               aelin          galathynius          remembers          the          cold          press          of          death          ,          the          slide          of          his          bony          arm          as          it          slipped          around          her          shoulders          to          pull          her          close                    .               the          feel          of          bleached          mandible          as          he          kissed          her          dear                    .               begged          her          to          become          his          lover          ,          the          reaper          did                    .               would          they          not          have          been          lovely          ,          together                    ?               DEATH          &&          THE          MAIDEN                    .               ❛                                   we've          something          in          common                    .               ❜               except          he          still          wears          his          scars          while          hers          were          erased          ,          her          body          made          new          after          onslaught                    .               after          session          after          session          of          torture                    .               ❛               WE          LIVED          ,          chaol                    .               despite          it          all                    .               ❜    

THERE          IS          A          SMILE          UPON          FIREPROOF          MOUTH                    .               burdened          .               weighed          down                    .               but          only          at          the          edges          for          she          has          always          been          good          at          hiding          true          intentions          ,          it          is          only          that          ,          recently          ,          ability          has          slipped          just          enough          to          show          cracks                    .               ❛               now                    .               don't          make          me          tell          YOUR          WIFE          you          said          this                    .               ❜                    /                    @literacae          -          found     on     p.interest

[rhyfelwyr]

sc. | dorian --- chaol | @literacae

                   There were times in which the heart within Dorian’s chest, still so PRESENT despite it all, gave a hard and painful squeeze. Such occasions arose sometimes when he beheld Chaol’s face, withdrawn --- upset. He couldn’t blame him. If he’d spotted the love of his life in bed with another, he doubted he wouldn’t look exactly the same. It didn’t much help, however, that this other man Lithaen had frolicked with happened to be Dorian’s own cousin. Roland. He felt that there was nothing he could say to make it right, again. Even if it had been so long already.

                  “ You came. ” When he’d sent the invite for dinner together, he’d thought his friend would refuse --- and yet, here he was, looking not quite as if he wanted to be. “ Sit down --- don’t act like a stranger. ”

[rhyfelwyr]

sc. | dorian --- manon | @literacae

                  It had become somewhat easier to bear the scars, both visible and not so much --- though the scar marring his neck, pale against sun-kissed, still managed to catch his eye and horror when noticed in mirrors. Which the king now tended to avoid. 

                   It wasn’t as if he didn’t have other things to look at. Such as a certain white-haired, molten gold eyed witch strutting his way, looking every inch the deathly warrior he knew she was. When within hearing range, he spoke. “ Witchling, ” a purr on his lips, with smile akin, “ I didn’t think you’d miss me near you so soon already. ”