#trionfale

[randomhobbyist]

Titan

[etherealcrown]

@trionfale​

“Why is it you look and sound different every time I see you? Am I truly becoming old?”

[starsmasher]

     There was an unexplainable mysticism to old manors. Even if you      did not subscribe to the idea of wandering eyes on stationary      paintings, the previous occupants seemed to live in the heart      and hallways. It was common to find yourself talking to radio      silence. On nights when the streaking starlight and candlelit      corridors were your only company, you could end up turned      around by the chorus of voices leading you into a familiar abyss.      This was one such night.      He had excused himself from their bedroom after confirming their      plans for the following day. A light breakfast, some recreational      time, leading into the continuation of his painting. However, the      deeper Androu plunged into the darkness, the more it would begin      to feel like a tunnel to another world. The mouth of which blew a      warm, foreign breeze—must have been the wind catching the      candlelight. Vision would begin to blur -- enough to cause a misstep,      but nothing alarming. The shadows moved, some taking human      shape and dissipating the moment they contacted the spider-webbed      shade of adjacent windows. ❝Coward. Beauty. ＷＥＡＫ. Sweet.❞      The breeze jeered, rebounding ad nauseum in the vacant hall. Each      repetition another stage of impaired vision, until it felt like the shadows      themselves were scratching at the corners of their eyes.      The state is reverted, and the dizzying, whirling room stabilizes -      notably in time with their breathing. A foreign hand reaches for their      shoulder, attempting to dig into their garb. Something in the manor      whispering, 'Run.'      @trionfale

[rosadiaboli]

@trionfale​ continued

“Nah, you couldn’t afford me probably. You look broke. But your butt is cute.”

[vilestblood]

Attempts to hold his hand.

“Hold my hand without fear, little bird. I do not bite.” Not all the time, that is.

[therelentless]

@trionfale​ asked: Holds out arms for a hug. C'mon, you know you want one!

[email protected] II always accepting II

With a stern look on his face, Nandor immediately raised a hand at the level of her face to stop her from getting any closer to him. Almost as if he was ignoring her presence in general, instead of looking at her, his attention remained somewhere else. “No.” This was his final answer. “A simple thank you is good enough, now turn around and walk away.”

[maiminglight]

@trionfale​​ / x.

Matlal all but delights at the yelp their darling companion releases, the lovebite of their’s ceasing. if their delight could grow ever brighter, being offered playful bonk and a gentle nuzzle would be sure to strike such rare, lighthearted laughter from them. lips lacking blood on them and eyes without a frenzy of death, a sickeningly sweet display taking their usual place. “perhaps you should stop looking so sweet sometime soon, unless you want to become swiss cheese.” 

[dreamsworn]

@trionfale​ said: "I want to know why you care." About her revenge, her anger. Why feed it—? ★ “I WANT TO KNOW…” Prompts

Why. The simplicity of such a question is close to laughable in its innocence, bending around the maison walls with their dainty voice, their dubious tune; His Excellency’s otherwise pensive mien is affected with a smile, revealing more things sharp than it does things kind, even as his eyes shine gentle and knowing in the lamplight curving ‘round the shape of his face. “And gladly, I will tell you,,” he begins in his low and musical drawl, hands spread before him in a gesture that is frank, sincere, open. “it is because I fancy that we are not so dissimilar in our miseries and plights. You might say too that I orbit around those that burn with such conviction. They are the brightest of stars that scorch the dark and stumbling corridors of humanity; or that which sits beyond it. It matters very little when I see that the dark has its way of seeping everywhere. It has within me. I see that it has within you.”

Laughter rocks the quiet, sea-deep and sweet on the curve of the gentleman’s mouth as his jewelled eyes flutter half-way closed against the dusty gold of the room’s dim light. “But you burn, my dear friend. You burn in a way that is wholly familiar and dear to my heart, where I keep a part of it ablaze not unlike your own.” His purring voice is crooning, indulgent. A broad hand offers itself towards them in patient invitation.

“In brief...we are alike enough for me to believe we are of some use to one another.”