#thearchiveofkhouri

[lilithkhouri]

Time has shaped the Cohen-Gaud family — a lineage marked by stories both tender and tragic. When Marine visits her grandmother Céleste, the past quietly awakens between fading photographs and gentle laughter. Céleste’s voice carries the echoes of another era...

⟡ A new story begins. ⟡ Read it now on The Archive of Khouri

[lilithkhouri]

Restoring Forgotten Worlds 🌌🏛️

"Some realms do not collapse in fire or war… they simply fade. Their streets grow quiet, their gardens wither, their walls crumble under the slow weight of neglect. And yet, in the whispers of the wind, their stories remain."

In the depths of my archive, I have uncovered worlds left behind — their beauty dulled, their histories scattered. Now, I walk their empty roads, brush the dust from forgotten doors, and breathe new life into their skies.

Each world is being rewritten: markets filled with voices again, rivers flowing clear, homes glowing with warmth. Every streetlight, every stone, chosen with care… until the realm feels alive once more.

This is no quick task. It is restoration — the kind that takes patience, vision, and a little magic. Soon, these worlds will be ready to welcome new souls.

🖤 Until then… the work continues, unseen but unceasing.

[lilithkhouri]

Two souls, one promise. Years passed, seasons changed, yet the fountain witnessed it all. From the innocence of their first embrace to the quiet strength of a love that endured.

Time didn’t take away the magic—it carved it deeper.

Deux âmes, une promesse. Les années ont passé, les saisons ont changé, mais la fontaine a tout vu. De l’innocence de leur premier baiser à la force tranquille d’un amour qui a résisté.

Le temps n’a pas volé la magie – il l’a gravée plus profondément.

[lilithkhouri]

“It just… came back.”

(Ça m’est… revenu.)

Warmth. I remember warmth. A velvet night, the faint scent of flowers in a dark room, and the sound of his breathing next to mine. I wasn’t alone then. There was laughter, love… a family. For a moment, I believed I was safe. But why does it feel so distant, like a story I read long ago? Why can’t I remember how it ended? Or… maybe I don’t want to. This memory—it flickers. It glitches. I can’t hold on to it, but it won’t let me go. La chaleur. Je me souviens de la chaleur. Une nuit de velours, le parfum léger des fleurs dans une pièce sombre, et le son de sa respiration près de moi. Je n’étais pas seule, à ce moment-là. Il y avait des rires, de l’amour… une famille. L’espace d’un instant, j’ai cru que j’étais en sécurité. Mais pourquoi cela me semble si lointain, comme une histoire que j’aurais lue il y a longtemps ? Pourquoi je n’arrive pas à me souvenir de la fin ? Ou… peut-être que je ne veux pas. Ce souvenir… il vacille. Il glitch. Je ne peux pas m’y accrocher, mais il refuse de me lâcher.

What if the life you built was only ever a fragment of the truth? Et si la vie que tu as construite n’avait toujours été qu’un fragment de la vérité ?