TWIN PEAKS / CURRENTLY ACCEPTING.
the high halls of the little palace sleep as the witching hour writhes closer. most of the second army has retired for the night. the premises of the architecture succumb to nocturnal shadows, which are ever living ━ they clamber there, and slumber there, in the dark chamber that is she, beating with her blood’s beat, and moving with her heart’s heat. she looks to the major general; it is just them amidst the silent library, and the deep dark as their audience. the beginnings of a grin tug at painted lips as the other woman speaks, and she leans back against the divan she occupies, frail glass of imported vino sitting neatly in one hand, a heavy tome in the other.
@volchiytsa says: at least we know what we sought in the beginning.
❝ there is much, still, that you all don’t know. ❞ she states, nonchalantly ━ the book is laid atop the old oak table with a neat little thud, awakening the dust. there is no urgency in her to know the darkling’s schemes: she, the dark, will feast either way. she does not care for their war. but as her voice rings ‘round the empty room once more, she’s intrigued nonetheless, ❝ this sun summoner might not be the answer he believes she is. ❞
