#stellaux

[yikeen]

   ‘‘   you’re---------   ’’   words  are  never  enough;  he  thinks  he  can  relate  to  that.  the  step  he  would’ve  taken  is  now  a  thing  of  the  past,  as  many  things  are.  her  family,  his  family,  for  example.  ‘‘   𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞.   ’’   @stellaux  ♡’ ed. 

[verumking]

❛ There is much to hate in this world and way too much to love. ❜

⚔️ *:･ﾟ✧┆there were times where her sermons surpassed the wisdom of the gods. ❪ @stellaux ❫

       It had quickly become ROUTINE for the two star-crossed souls to CONVERSE through fibreglass, both VERUM REX and REGINA perched miserably on laboratory floors, scarcely an INCH apart. Even through the hazy glare of operating lights DANCING upon the window pane, Stella was just as ETHEREAL— and despite the thick glass separating them, she could be heard CRYSTALLINE clear. 

       Prismatic irises met lavender hues with a fleeting GLEAM of intrigue. Yozora often fathomed what WONDERS her mind must hold, to speak with such FORESIGHT despite being held prisoner for most— if not ALL— of her life. Perhaps it was the COSMOS itself, whose gospel made itself KNOWN through the tongue of their mortal VESSEL.

       ❛  … Hate doesn’t suit you. ❜  Yozora decided quietly after a moment’s PASSING, shifting his posture so he was FACING the brunette directly. He couldn’t imagine MALICE cutting into such an elysian expression.

       Much like he couldn’t imagine LOVE illuminating his own.

       Yet Yozora was OBLIVIOUS to the way his optics glistened in the mere PRESENCE of the priestess. He was oblivious to the way his Gigas core WHIRRED— not due to the astral energy brewing in a hollow CHEST— but due to the emotion he was DENIED since his humanity was STRIPPED away from him. 

       He ADORED her, in more ways than he could POSSIBLY illustrate: yet such emotions refused to SURFACE. Perhaps because he didn’t BELIEVE he was capable of loving at all. 

[sxrtis]

{ @stellaux | closed starter. }

How she had managed it was not important, what was was that she had, and she was very excited about it. Maria had taken care of the majority of the food preparations, of course, Luna would have been less than useless, but she had selected the menu. Two picnic baskets had been stuffed to the brim, the sister’s favorite lunch assortments within. A bottle of champagne and a jug of orange juice had been hidden away as well (Maria’s instance). The car had been readied, a human guard, Gentiana, and Maria would be accompanying them.

It would nearly be like before. Before Niflheim.  They were only missing mother and Ravus.  Ravus could probably be convinced, but he was locked in meetings all day, and she did not dare disturb anything that could take the moment of solace away. She’d left him a note, should he be able to escape. 

Next, the matter of her sister. Stella was reading in the main sitting room. Perfect. Luna trotted up to her with a grin, swiping the book from her hands.  ❝We’re having a picnic. You have ten minutes to get ready.❞

[tridentiae]

‘ don’t give up yet. you still have time to fix things. ’

meme ! : grave suggestion ( light & dark )

          ❛ time I have, but not enough of it, ❜ she whispers, hands curling in her lap. it was a rare moment in which she’d found the time to sit and converse with someone who wasn’t a politician she had to please or someone she was to heal. not that the latter was an issue, but even she needed her rest.

          ❛ my mortal body is failing me. it won’t be long before I can be counted among the souls that rest within our star. I won’t be able to protect him or our world any longer. ❜

@stellaux

[blossomophelia-archive]

"you have a very beautiful smile, i think you should smile more."

        ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ : those words were pure and sweet as honey -- her big sister was beautiful and so incredibly kind, to even consider the feelings of a spectral being like herself. the lunar bride would question her humanity ( how much had the reaper taken from her? were her siblings meant to be a reminder? ) often, wondering if she deserved to even experience the warmth of life. lunafreya could bleed heavy crimson torrents and she would still question her state of being. so, at the suggestion to smile more often --- confusion was heavily evident in her expression. was there a reason to smile so much? ( did it even matter at this point in time? ) shaking her head in the negative, pale, shaky digits began to fidget with one another. 

“t-thank you... but i don’t think i deserve to...”

[deacruor]

Luna as the blood moon... does this make her like calamity ganon.... :)

shedding her hooman body?? given up on reincarnation??? assuming her pure, enraged ( blood tainted / star scourge / something else corrupted ) form??? dangerous and being a recurring bane of the world??? oh yes. 

[khresme]

How forlorn the night was, how lost. How the dead stars and the light of a dead day that was buried in the maw of night. This was not the world she vouched for, not the one she served. The gods were at war with the goddess of death and chaos, she knew, but her time as Oracle was over. The Chosen would never assimilate into his role, and her place was useless. Not when the death of the Glacian still need be avenged and the peoples of the Star were yet to have their prayers answered. It was in Tenebrae that she was slated to begin her bloodied work ‘neath the light of a blood red moon, pouring its liquid blood upon the earth that was the Chosen’s taint. How she yearned to have him see the error of his ways!

On genuflected knee did Lunafreya offer herself in prayer on their mother’s grave, hearing footfalls in the slanted moonlight. In a graveyard of blanched stone, weeping willows, and luminous moon-glow did the Dark Oracle rise to see her sister. 

Her enemy.

@stellaux

[dawnstrap]

✩ ˖ ˚ . @stellaux.

                                                                    ❝   it gets old, y’know ?  ❞

the waiting, the pressure, the guilt, the pleasureless depths of the unknown. he’s grown tired -- though, it’s safe to say he’s been that way for a long time, now. some strained voice, riddled with peppiness that might cheer another up -- stella up -- blossoms into petals of personality that fade & wither. they’re the only ones here. the only ones who know. they sit in wait, watching a familiar circumstance unfold. they’re centered in the room, just the two of them, & the boys don’t know where he’s left to, but he said he had to go for awhile... they didn’t ask questions. stella & prompto are on a call, unsure of furthering approach. the anxiety turning prompto’s stomach into knots brings him to wish for their next orders, but the following guilt, the guilt even now, would practically plead otherwise. 

                                                       ❝   just wish things could be a little different. 

                                                                     but, i know, i know... just the way it is, right ?

                                                                                 just tired of... sitting here.  ❞

            & thus, the pacing begins. hands pulling at his shirt. running through his hair. 

          tapping his feet. humming a rhythm even he doesn’t know. time passes agonizingly.