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PYRE OOZES BETWIXT STITCH WORK : it seeps , coursing through mask’s beak & owl sockets. visage veiled by bone , expression cloaked in DEATH’S disguise ------ --- -- albeit ! he is not wholly emotionless. sense : an arctic air flow in their presence of SILENCE. ( * is it ? can it be ? ) an approach of SORROW ? ❛ IF EVERYTHING DIDN’T FEEL so cold ..... i’d say i’m in HELL. ❜ // @roseared .
THOUGH HER LIPS WERE TO BE LIKE ROSES he is only sorely reminded of ichor , of carnage and of death ( blood was never beautiful , never serene . it was just red ) . she reminded him of a nightsister , skin as pale as fallen snow , cruelty lying beneath an unmistakable beauty , needle teeth tearing through flesh and bone ( and in most ARACHNID species the female ate the male whole ) . but nightsister she was was not , modesty and curiosity drawing her far from the witches — perhaps she was more like the queen of naboo , painted to resemble a doll , the strings of the SENATE ( the senate ! ) holding her up and patting her on the back .
he sneered , disgust flashing in eyes — those were the WEAK ones , the ones who were unable to decide ( like he , he mused , he who was kept on a leash , unable to advance to places where he would be unruly , out of bounds ) . what a terrible thing , a burden like that . he hated it and as such he hated HER , this human doll , this beauty , this human which lips were covered in just red .
❛❛ are you not needed somewhere ? ❜❜ he questioned with lips peeled back , eyes covered ‘til they squinted , spittle but a mere movement away from dripping from tongue , ❛❛ somewhere that is far from here . ❜❜ needed somewhere that is not amongst the THORNS ?
@roseared / sc .
HIS THROAT was DRY, lips pursed shut. even beside the plain exterior of a woodland cottage, she was immaculately beautiful. reminding him ever moment of the princess he’d left at the palace in HYRULE. but her lips were CARMINE, like the deepest red rose, and her skin was like alabaster left to smooth in the elements. part of him was too afraid to talk to her-- the lump in his throat was too large. ( and why? he’d spoken to many women that were kind, generous, beautiful... ) but his legs-- they felt as stone. even as their eyes met, the hero stood beside his mare with wide-eyed visions a world stood still. // @roseared
@roseared replied to your photoset:
you're BEAUTIFUL ????
aND YOU’RE TOO SWEET <33
how lovely is the garden rose ! beauty befitting a noble , such purity and goodness of heart ! she knows not how to greet her , for the hollowness in the pit of her throat renders her mute . even so , the maiden smiles , a wave of her fingers so as to not seem rude .
@roseared ♥’d .
‘ princess , i wish to introduce myself . i am julian alfred pankratz , viscount de lettenhove , though most known as dandelion , the master poet . if your court is ever in need of a new historian , bard , or composer , do let me know ! ‘
@roseared clicked.
hi i love this blog sm ❤
CAST ASIDE — asdfghjkl hush though because i adore your blog, your writing - it’s so detailed and beautiful to read; represents aurora wonderfully! so, thank-you so very much, lovely!! xoxo
