( SUGAR | witchsmark )

  • Witchsmark's disappearance had taken the small third tier by surprise. He was bizarre and absolutely the most annoying tom she'd ever met. But there was something about him that drew her to him, as much as she hated to admit it. She'd walked the borders of the Kingdoms a few times in his absence, but today would definitely be the last time, she decided. There were plenty of other boys (men, really) that she had her paw wrapped around, so she should stop being so pathetic. Was she pathetic for looking for him? No, right? He was just an annoying acquaintance, she would do the same for anyone. But she wouldn't be caught dead doing so.

    Tonight she found herself walking the border of the Kingdom, whiskers twitching at its putrid scent. She had a lot to think about with Ver renouncing her membership to the Ruins and drawing out her family to choose a side. It made her tail lash just thinking about it: home or family? These were things she'd never really thought of contrasting, the Ruins had always been her family's home. She even though she might miss them, but pushed away the thought. Ultimately, it was up to her to decide or balance both.

    The shadowy feline padded the border, stress rolling off her in waves as pale red orbs clouded in thought.


    a lighter when you wanna get high

    tormenta-million - sanguine ruins - third tier - tags - ic opinions

    and mess around 'til you get numb

  • songs of greek tragedies sang deep within veins of golden ichor now boiling with brimstone and hellfire. new day, new scorn towards those ghosts of day's past and the unholy memories of torturous misery brought forth. hatred. it had been a wicked beast to nestle deep within a chaotic mind ever trying to process and figure out what happened despite long days and nights having passed by. he cannot recall such intense emotions at one point within woeful reminders and nightmarish dreams. but he knows too well of the sick desire of wishing complete, utter damnation upon those inflicting injustices upon him. where small cracks web across perfect porcelain, threatening to shatter a well put together masterpiece into messy shards of restrained composure. composure. it's foreign atop silk tongue, bitter yet sweet within a deep gulp of air. yet he knows well enough of collecting himself, retain that of sophisticated regality he crafted so carefully over tumultuous months. don't let them know, don't let them see. for they mustn't hear cries of trauma ripped open from honeyed throat rattled raw and rough.

    but he cannot hide such disorderly feeling brewing deep inside. not when a sun-forged man of devious smiles and cordial notes flies around face and ears like a pestering gnat. where shared sensations flow between them. unwanted. alien. privacy invading. flashes of another's memories bright and crystal clear in random moments of the day. teasing pokes that invade whirlwind thoughts, forcing full stop in tracks and combating with quick retorts in return. tiresome. troublesome. there is creature upon this green world more meddlesome and prying than churchgrim.

    faint is the quiver of playful pride that rides through him, slight indication of the man noting the vague thought of him inside witchsmark's mind. annoyance trickles down the bond in return before ignoring oncoming droplets of heavy amusement. it doesn't help when he recalls an specific jest towards him.

    "are you going to see your favored mortal?"

    favored mortal. favored mortal— it brings forth deep flustered moments in an unsavory sensation. tighten of ivories together and heated cheeks. truly, church knew the right buttons to push. but he dwells no longer on the direhound, rather putting all focus on the wandering fragrance unique to arya. truth be told, surprise had been coursing through stardust filled veins when arriving back home in recent days, noticing the ruiner's scent mingled with those of solaris kingdom. roaming the border for several days, he'd been able to decipher with ease. and he's slow within approach towards the woman of night's cruel darkness, eyes of golden evergreens studying her frame in acute intensity.

    pain claws at him, violent reminders of the healing laceration and gashes obtained by those nasty beasts of a dying ideology. yet he pushes forth, grave in wake as he draws closer, closer, and closer still. for the first time does subtle concern drape over weary shoulders at the curling claws of lingering distraction keep arya within its grasp.

    and so the creature of gilded elven beauty glows beneath moon's gentle light, bathed in perfect tragedy as he stands amidst the cold sands of a beloved desert home. "penny for your thoughts?" faintest of utterances to filter through pearl lips.

  • Finally, the man she's searching for comes into her view, automatically causing her placid expression to form into annoyance. The corners of her lips turned downwards, eyebrows scrunching together and ears flicking at the sight of the pristinely white young man, a short and agitated huff coming out of her. His appearance tantalized her, the shine of the moon on his fur reflecting as if he were the moon itself and she the night sky. Something deep within her stirred awake, whether it be lust or romantic interest she doesn't know, but it's too hard to push it aside. Arya wishes she had drugs right now; they were much better at numbing her feelings than her own mind.

    Penny for your thoughts? His melodic voice echoes in her mind and so she sits back, suddenly feeling dizzy at his presence. Her tail curls tightly around her paws, tail tip twitching in a clear sign of her own discomfort (from him or from the way he makes her feel?) as pale red orbs scrutinize him.

    "Where have you been?" The words tumble out, accusatory and irritated, but they weren't the words she meant to say. It should have been something smoother, like telling him she was on a walk and that he should leave her alone, but instead there's an inkling of hurt in her tone, though she may not realize it.

    a lighter when you wanna get high

    tormenta-million - sanguine ruins - third tier - tags - ic opinions

    and mess around 'til you get numb