Post by nikita kasparian on Aug 18, 2018 6:10:53 GMT
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[PTabbedContent][PTab=BASIC][attr="class","appicon"]  | [attr="class","lvappname"] NIKITA KASPARIAN [attr="class","appdivider"] [attr="class","appname2"]leviathan |
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before sleep, strange memories bubble up beneath your skin -- on a buzzing cicada-strong night you push onward, pacing low to the ground, air thick with the scent of rotted wood and animal hair. you aren't exactly sure what brings you here. [break][break]
deidre is there too, her shadow curled around her feet, gold eyes unblinking. the winds curl the frayed edges of a white cotton dress, cools the edge of a scarlet-stained blade. your sister watches, your sister waits. she knows you better than you know yourself, and she tells you, patience, my dear, wait.[break][break]
the night reigns silent, until it does not -- until the earth shifts beneath your feet, bucking and roiling like the open sea. your blood runs cold, turns silver daggers in your veins. you hear it rushing in your ears, and above, the stars spin and streak across the vast empty sky. the world falls away, until there is nought but a weight upon your chest and a dagger in your hand, its hilt plunged deep into a blood rosetta-ed chest. you feel a mirrored pain above your sternum. the girl bleeds. the girl does not flinch.[break][break]
first blood, you whisper, and it is your own voice that answers you, in a rush between bone-bright wings and glittering gold eyes. [break][break]
history repeats itself. someone says this.[break]
history throws its shadow over beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters.[break]
history is the little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of.[break]
i know history. there are many names in history[break]
― richard siken, "crush"
history throws its shadow over beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters.[break]
history is the little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of.[break]
i know history. there are many names in history[break]
but none of them are ours.
[break][break]― richard siken, "crush"
before sleep, strange memories bubble up beneath your skin -- on a buzzing cicada-strong night you push onward, pacing low to the ground, air thick with the scent of rotted wood and animal hair. you aren't exactly sure what brings you here. [break][break]
your mind comes alive in the dark, a circus of sound, blood-stained teeth and dark satin flanks. your gaze catches a reflective pool and there you see yourself, unfamiliar.[break][break]
( intruder )[break][break]
a wild animal watches you through your own eyes.[break][break]
( intruder )[break][break]
a wild animal watches you through your own eyes.[break][break]
deidre is there too, her shadow curled around her feet, gold eyes unblinking. the winds curl the frayed edges of a white cotton dress, cools the edge of a scarlet-stained blade. your sister watches, your sister waits. she knows you better than you know yourself, and she tells you, patience, my dear, wait.[break][break]
the night reigns silent, until it does not -- until the earth shifts beneath your feet, bucking and roiling like the open sea. your blood runs cold, turns silver daggers in your veins. you hear it rushing in your ears, and above, the stars spin and streak across the vast empty sky. the world falls away, until there is nought but a weight upon your chest and a dagger in your hand, its hilt plunged deep into a blood rosetta-ed chest. you feel a mirrored pain above your sternum. the girl bleeds. the girl does not flinch.[break][break]
first blood, you whisper, and it is your own voice that answers you, in a rush between bone-bright wings and glittering gold eyes. [break][break]
well played.
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[attr="class","lvappoocbasic"] ageyou already know pronounsshe/they time zoneGMT+10 i moved yall where did you come from?hell, probably | [attr="class","appbasic4"]
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