#metamorphisms

[meanestmachine]

“Se veio vingar estes infelizes eu realmente te sugiro que pense bem...” E, ainda que a piscadela que se sucedeu delineasse um desdém divertido, esta com certeza contrastava com o atual estado em que se encontrava a jovem cambion. Ainda sim, ela não poderia se dar ao luxo de parecer fraca nem tampouco hesitante na frente de qualquer um. “Não vou me importar de continuar...”

( @metamorphisms )

[winterscn]

@metamorphisms // starter call!

“Alguma chance de que a gente saia daqui sem chamar atenção? O dia parece bom demais pra que sejamos pegos e jogados na prisão.”

[sanguineas]

“Look at me–you’re safe.”

not-doing-too-good sentence starters // accepting.

THE WORLD BEGAN AND ENDED IN RED.    Walls   bleed   crimson  &&  her  vision  is a blur of disconnected memories — the golden and  darkness and all that blood. It is messy. And it hurts, it hurts and agonizes so bad once she realizes she is inside a CAGE —  and the iron bars are coming closer and closer, ready to CRUSH her.  Outside, it’s him again. Those blue eyes — HER eyes — stare at her wide open as his hands try in vain to contain all the blood leaking from his open throat. He keeps on choking until Scarlett no longer knows if what she is hearing is a gag or a LAUGH. And suddenly, his eyes were no longer blue either, they were black as onyx stones — as the monster of her nightmares. Damir smiled at her and the world was licked by flames.

                                                                    The  cry  that  comes  dry  from her throat as she lift up herself  from  the  sofa  is  interrupted  by  Lysandra’s  soothing  voice.  She  listens  to  the  detective’s  murmurs,  those  whispering  ghosts,  &&  tries  to  concentrate  on  her voice,  on anything  that  looks  REAL,  but  bile  rises  up  her  throat  and  she  storms  to  the  bathroom, throwing  all  the  dinner  out.

                                                                   It takes two, five minutes until the girl leaves the small area to face the woman who, despite all that shit, still seemed willing to help — to understand. Scarlett controls the urge to tell her to get the hell away, to just leave for once. She didn’t WANTED to be helped at all — and sure as hell didn’t need anyone watching her from a ringside seat  as she slowly fades away.     “—-enjoying the show?” Her voice was a tad  ROUGH; throat still burning. “For real, Lysandra, what the fuck do you want from me?  I don’t need a goddamn babysitter && I can’t help your case AT ALL. So, just for once, answer me honestly— what are you still doing here?”

(  —-‘ @metamorphisms )

[wxnderbxy]

            ❛ Eu ficaria muito grato se você pudesse devolver meu arco. ❜  O jovem olhava para o objeto, agora nas mãos da mulher que ele não conhecia, após ter caído enquanto enfrentava um dos muitos vilões que ameaçavam perturbar a paz na cidade. ❛ Eu realmente não posso chegar em casa sem ele. ❜

@metamorphisms // sc

[curscbreakcr-blog]

🎈- Share a childhood memory!

i went to italy for 3 months when i was in the 5th grade and i remember just crying everyday because i wanted to go home and be with my parents (i was with my grandparents) and i wanna kick myself because i WISH i could go to italy for three months now!

[icedriven-blog]

❝I’m so fucking done.❞

   He frowns as Lysandra plops on the chair in front of him. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, pretending to be Aelin, trying to maintain the peace between their allies— it was a heavy task that was put on her shoulders, a task she didn’t deserve the weight of. “You don’t have to do it, we could tell them the truth.” Although it could result in anarchy, but perhaps it would mean more people to help free Aelin.

[icedriven-blog]

@metamorphisms

     Dorian was beginning to hate boats. It wasn’t that being on sea made him queasy, or the gentle rocking of the boat usually disturbed with the sudden smack of waves or gods knew what else was living in these waters, it was the lack of freedom that was driving him insane. He could barely get a second of peace without Aedion’s bickering, Aelin’s commands for him to stay put less he get himself hurt and everyone on the damned boat enforcing her commands. He could not step anywhere without someone asking if he was okay or eyeing him with a level of caution similar to the way Rowan had at Rifthold. As if he were so fragile, one touch, one word would send him over the edge. People only spoke to him when they remembered he was there and nobody had thought to ask him if he was okay, not that he would tell them otherwise. 

     Still he longed for the company of another, specifically Chaol, whom his heart ached for and yet Dorian did what he could to shove his friend out of his mind. His body stiffened as he felt someone brush against his arm, turning to find Lysandra by his side. He’d hadn’t spoken much to Aelin’s friend, only the occasional nod of each others existence. But why come sit with him of all people was beyond Dorian. They barely even knew each other. “D-Did you need something?”

[sentinaels]

♬ { To Evangeline }

↳ send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse… + @metamorphisms​ !

                evangeline was a city girl at heart ; in ten years of life, she'd never left rifthold, never even dreamed of it. it was cramped and it was noisy, but it was home nonetheless. the noises of the forest around them frightened her, her mind making up stories of wild fae coming to snatch children right out of their mother's arms. despite the knowledge that the four she was travelling with ( namely, queen aelin and general aedion, as well as prince rowan and lysandra herself ) were far more daunting than any demon in the wood, she still felt small and helpless and afraid.               lysandra's singing soothed her, though. the former courtesan had a pleasant singing voice, deeper than she expected it to be. they'd both been little girls in rifthold once, and they knew the same lullabies. evangeline burrowed into lysandra's side, letting the gentle tune lull her to sleep. she looked up at the other, dimple creasing her cheek. ❛ thank you. ❜ barely more than a whisper. ❛ will you just— keep singing, please ? ❜