#occidentis

[fieriframes]

[Natura sua calida et humida contra partem Occidentis.]

[godbloodednope]

@occidentis REQUESTED AN AUDIENCE WITH THE GOD. 

The brothel that West so fashions as more than it is-- a place to luxuriate, a place of desire, a place of decadence-- is quiet, sometimes. When the night has languished into late morning. Kitty likes it best this way, because there is a sense of overwhelm to it all other moments. To intermingling scent and sound and sight. To Kitty’s overwhelm with what’s around her.

She sits, now, outside on the balcony of West’s room in the night air. It chills. She’s completely nude-- nothing on her, leather jacket left over a chair only feet away. That body is shamelessly covered in scarring, hardened tissue, muscle rippled further with marking. She lives within this time, this hour, stirring and stirring a constellation of miniature stars within the center of her palm. It’s calm, quiet. She keeps moving it and moving it. And it keeps stirring and stirring and stirring, this little galaxy of shades in the center of her palm.

Watching it is soothing. She feels a sense of lulling, hypnotic comfort.

She hears West behind her but doesn’t move.

[godbloodednope]

@occidentis​ (x)

“Ya talkin’ t’me, ‘r’yaself,

                                               BITCH?”