#wonderloste

[londonfallen]

CONT : " i felt your absence ... " ( @wonderloste )

a great many arrangements had he offered, just as many, he had watched them take, examine, and disregard : less had they outright destroyed—truly, was there a bitter irony when he kneeled at their side, watched them pluck the petals one by one. watched as what was meant simply as another apology was torn to shreds. he wonders, then, if the pang in his heart is anything similar to what they must have felt, all the way back when. ( he can hardly bear to look at them. a first in it's own right—not from unwillingness, but from the guilt that it brings. ) instead, for a while, he keeps his gaze lowered, hands clenched into fists into his lap. he doesn't know how to explain, if he can explain it at all. guilt haunts him in a great many ways, these days. gnaws at the back of his mind like a parasite, crops up in places unexpected like weeds.

i'm sorry is not enough, and he knows it.

" i — " and they are up on their feet before he realizes it, before he can find the words. he halfway trips over himself, scrambling to his own. it is impossible to mask the sheer panic in his voice, distress a cruel mistress. " of course i missed you! what makes you think i—" an abrupt pause, biting down on his tongue to forcibly bite back vitriol. he's getting too worked up, too defensive. that—he knows—is what led them here to begin with. so he swallows his words, the scraps of his pride, scrambles to gather what flowers remain from his now-mangled plea for forgiveness, and follows after. he isn't sure whether he should rush to their side, or let them keep their distance : ultimately, settling on the former. " i always missed you, mea vita. it— ... it was never the same, without you here. you spoke of loneliness once, do you remember? that is what it was! that awful, creeping feeling, that crawls inside your veins, that feeling you can't simply shake away. i waited up every night for you, hoping, praying, that perhaps you might yet come back to me. is that not missing you? "

[lured-into-wonderland]

Continued from [x] with @wonderloste

She trembles as she hears the voice. Only then realizing that she is not alone.

“Wonderland…Is that how you call this place?” – she hesitates for a moment – “It doesn’t seem to be a fitted name.” – though she is dodging replying to the question. Does Wonderland make her uneasy? It does obviously. She finds herself like being in the wrong place. Even more in the wrong time.

“I was expecting to meet the Cheshire-Cat…” – her lips formulated the reply before her mind is able to stop them – “That is I was not expecting myself to fall down the rabbit hole.” – Nunnally is speaking; she knows the story. Everyone knows the story, right?.

(“I must have hit myself when falling down.”)

She remembers the fall. But she doesn’t remember the rabbit hole. Or what does she remember truly?

“Have you seen me actually falling? So, perhaps you can also tell me how I ended up here…” – she points at the surroundings – “And perhaps you could assist me to get back…through that hole…” – it cannot be too deep, right?

“My name is…” – suddenly she has a problem. She cannot remember what her name is.

[zorkaya-moved]

@wonderloste​

zarina's reaction to specifically valentin's story arc dealing w beatrice is so funny help KJNMREKNHJNM

Zarina knows how it feels to be tortured. And she knows how it feels to torture the one who hurt you and took away all of your control as a teen. So she is delighted to witness her man take reigns back and indulge in that dark satisfaction and show off his fangs as she’ll be calmly smiling through the whole ordeal. Not only that but she’ll probably hear that she just took what Valentin has built up himself and it irks her personally because she built herself from down below into who she is today, so for someone to take everything she’d worked her ass off? She has some personal thing there too. Well, and, of course, this cruel merciless winter lady wants Val to get back what is rightfully his. <3

[galaxiasus-a]

☛ do you think the moon is jealous of how pretty you are? ☚ aleister & travis.

CONTINUE > LOAD FILE // what meme was this

File Name: @wonderloste

Not platonic.

     Ever since that kiss. Ever since that specification ever left his lips- his hands, to be more specific- he was unable to tell if that was a good or bad thing to have done. He remembers back home, when things were more simple, when there would be rumors over who was 'official' and who wasn't. How some would be hoping to make things 'official' with another. He never cared for it. Of course not, it had never applied to him until someone came into the picture. But he was always listening. Always hearing. Even when he told himself to not do so.

It's moments like this that bring that similar feelings of questioning. Was it a good idea? What are they now? They are nothing like what they were at the beginning of all this. Two pairs of strangers; a deity and a worshipper who did and still does swear his life to him. Did he want things to be official? He would have never dreamed of it before this. But as days, weeks, (maybe months?) pass it started to feel more and more like the other was starting to get it. It wasn't just simple touches anymore. It was the way he looked at him. The way he 'said' things like this to him.

Sure. It was, in theory, good. All of this coming to the surface. Despite him questioning his intent by it; a simple comment or an actual attempt to reciprocating something more romantic? But at the same time he absolutely hated the embarrassment that came with it. With a pouty huff he turns away from him. He didn't hate the compliment by any means. But the way it bubbles up in his chest along with that longing and pressure-filled ache. By gods was it weird. Pleasant, but weird, and he can feel the heat rise to his cheeks.

     You've gotten bolder. Aleister told him once. So have you. He replied.

He doesn't dare look back at him. He knows what he will find. That soft expression and the pink eyes that are starting to get less rare. They were still a surprising find, but he knew that they were there now. He knows if he looked at them right now then he would stop functioning completely. So he instead gently pokes at the flower that he was staring at a moment before. It looked like a rose. It had it's frills. But that was about it. It was larger and had more of those frills than a normal rose would look like.

It used to be so simple.

     "Back home." He suddenly speaks, though his voice wavers slightly. The more he thinks about it, the more out of nowhere the comment felt. Though that was normal for Aleister, wasn't it? How he had no shame in that mind of his? He shouldn't be caught off guard by it anymore, yet he was.

"We had a small project of sorts. Talking about culture. One of the kids got up and started talking about mythology their culture had relating to some Gods. I didn't pay much attention to it, mostly because I thought it was stupid and fake. I had my own God to believe in, and I was told anything else were false." It was probably not the response he was expecting. What was he expecting? He could still feel Aleister's gaze on him, waiting. He had a point to this, so with a sigh to keep him steady again he kept going.

     "Anyways. There was one that stuck out to me. I don't remember the name of the goddess, but story goes that she controls the moon. Pulls the moon across the sky and rides a chariot to bring in the light that shows in the dark. Says that she was basically an all seeing eye, as the moon is constantly hanging overhead, and you can never run from it."

How familiar that sounds. He leans back, hands resting on the ground so it provides support as he does so. He pauses for a minute before continuing on. "I don't know if you have that kind of thing here. Probably not. Since its you who created all. But if there was.. if she or some other type of moon goddess did exist, I don't think she'd be jealous of me because of my looks. I don't know what you find pretty in me, and I doubt she'd agree on whatever your answer was."

Travis himself doesn't think he is, then again his looks were never a main concern for him. He knew he always looked like hell; a bruised eye, some part of his face bleeding. Whether by a fight or something else. Some injury was part of him, and now there always will be an injury permanent on his face. Last he checked the eye that was got caught in that crossfire was a murky cloudy color. He'd judge Aleister for finding that pretty, but he wasn't one to talk.

Humming, he leans forward, going back to his sitting position so he can continue to stare at the flower in front of him. The other made this.. that's how it goes around here. From the marshes to the flowers, that was all him. He doesn't doubt that someone that was pleasing to the eye such as him created something just as pretty.

     "If she were to be jealous over me.. It would be because I'm in the same space of, and have the attention of, someone beautiful."

He has not looked back towards him once.

[rapturam]

why

why not !!!

[stxrcxller]

@wonderloste​

At this point in her life, she was no stranger to nightmares. However, things had taken an abnormal turn once she was back in Sharlayan from Ultima Thule and reliably back among the living. Being bedridden while she recovered, there wasn’t anything she could do to distract herself. The only thing to do to pass time was one of the things she hated most at this point- sleeping and letting it happen. The first time she woke up bleeding, she brushed it off- reasoning that she had reopened any of her numerous wounds with her tossing and turning. Deep down she knew that was impossible, irrational, by the time she he had woken up, the Scions all assured her that her wounds- external- were healed. So perhaps it was internal again?

The second time, wounds that had been healed for years were searing with pain and beginning to horribly bruise. The third time, her silent scream was cut off as she coughed up blood- and again she tried to brush it away- she had reopened something inside, she’d just heal it and she’d be fine.

And on, and on, and on. By the time she was hearing whispers of a name not her own, she was beyond paranoid- jumping at every little sound. The Scions had to near force her to sleep, made drowsy with magic as she frantically protested that no- she could not sleep. Bad things happened when she fell asleep- bad things that were somehow worse than her nightmares had been before all of this.

This time she was lucid. Or perhaps she had been the other times and had just forgotten. Hells if she knew at this point. She gripped her staff in a death grip within trembling hands, claws digging into the wood.

it wasn’t long before it grew too dark for her to see, something knocking her off balance and her staff out of her grip. The Miqo’te fumbled blindly in the dark for her staff- or anything she could use to get up as it somehow got even darker. Normally she’d be too prideful to voice her distress, but at the moment all bets were off.

Continuing to clumsily shift about on her knees and feel around for anything she could use for support, she started screaming to those she knew would come at her beck and call. “Fray?! Ardbert?! FRAY!!”

But no one came. No one she could see, at least.

[blotlcss-a]

@wonderloste​​ (Apostol)  from here

They had been taken aback by his honest response. It was all so strange. The blue thread that no one could see except for the two of them.... Her supposed enemy claiming he was her fated person and then dropping everything to stay by her side..... Under normal circumstances Yuu would have easily said this was a trap and too good to be true. 

“I know better, betrayal is no stranger to me. Acts of malice could easily be disguised as kindness. I have even been told that tragedy follows me wherever I go. To believe in my enemy would would be nothing short of idiocy.” And yet perhaps they were truly a fool. Whenever their brilliant ruby eyes meets his ethereal silver they find it harder to focus. Their laugh was so enchanting and smooth it felt as if they were being enthralled by silk in the form of words. 

        BAH! 

               This was so frustrating!!

“Yet.... I believe in you.” Their fingers, so slender and yet calloused, traces over the strange blue thread wrapped around their wrist. “Despite knowing so little about you, I felt at ease from the moment we met.” Their voice is so soft and vulnerable as they admit these things to Apostol. “It doesn’t make any sense to me, and the fact that I don’t mind it is even stranger.... Is this the string’s fault...? Or am I just really weak for pretty men?” It was meant as a joke but they do believe he was beautiful, string of fate or not.

[purewhiteprophet]

@wonderloste continued from “ We share a name and fate.”

The strong grip doesn’t escape White’s notice. It’s comforting, in some ways. But also worrying in some others. He knows the drastic steps Darcy must take to change the fate he has seen. And it takes little to know that Darcy will do whatever means necessary to fulfill his mission. It makes White sad; how many times has he failed? How many times has he experienced the worst heartbreak imaginable? How much sorrow does he carry on these shoulders White is grasping onto?

White sighs into the hug, putting his head on Darcy’s shoulder for a moment before pulling away. “You’ll find that I’m a bit of a worrywart, especially for friends.” Such a bold statement, considering they hadn’t known each other long. But White would like it to be true.

‘Whatever you have seen is wrong’

He’s only known one man to defy the fate given to White with his foresight. If one man can do it, surely another can. White holds onto that one string of hope with all his weight, and prays it doesn’t break. He smiles weakly at Darcy, patting his shoulders. “If anyone can,” White starts, “Then you can.” He knows Darcy is crying, call it a feeling. So he blindly reaches for the man’s face, trying his best to push back the tears he can’t see or hear, but know are there. He’s gentle with his touch, which perhaps is a little too cruel. But he cannot help it. To him. Darcy is a brave but shattered soldier. He has to be careful lest he fall apart under the seer’s touch.

“Rewriting fate is not going to be easy, however. Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help you on this journey?” He asks again, he asks despite it all. He slowly pulls his hands back down to his side once he’s satisfied with brushing the other’s tears away.

“If we’re rewriting fate, and all, then certainly there is more I can do for you. With you.“ White offers. “If we’re going to defy it then to hell with everything you’ve known before, try something new.”