war torn & battle born

             ❝   WELL ,  ❞    AN  OMINOUS  HARBINGER   of  a  word  declaring  what  to  follow  won’t  be  delightful,  but  what  else  is  to  be  expected  from  a  girl  who  holds  brawls  in  her  fists,  violence  in  her  bones    &   bellicose  in  her  voice  while  the  cicatrices  of  her  knuckles  still  burned  red,  ❝    he  should  request  to  grow  stronger  bones.  ❞   

@auroriisms

A GRAVE OF A GIRL ;   of rot   &  of dirt. one with the grime   &  one with the grunge. it’s scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing with  necrotic acid  to deafen halo mane  &  leak beneath white skin, the color of purity, to take it  &  make it grim.  elbow to table, chin to hand, a knife sharpening words that can never seem quite…kind. 

     ❛    good.   then I can achieve my new found dream of becoming a gymnast, Briar Rose.   ❜

        ❛      yes,  the term useless is synonymous to as vital as your aortic valve. might as well check the ‘do not resuscitate’ box at Mungo’s next time.     ❜

                    ❛    I’ve found it’s more time efficient  to capitalize  on people’s weaknesses  &  incompetencies,  &  in this scenario overwhelm them in an area they’re not equip to refute properly.  but I’m  sure  you  already knew that.  ❜

@auroriisms​

      ❛  REMIND ME to become Minister one day to  e n d  the injustice of apologetic letter writing. Let a middle finger salute you and go about your damn day.  ❜

SISTER

SHE  IS  BATHED  IN  COQUELICOT  &  CRUOR  GALOR.    blood  glissades  as  rivers  wrapped  redolent,  rufuous  agonies   u n d e r l i n i n g   the  further  paling  pallor  of  flesh   (   the  flesh  forged  to  die,  )  forged  to  be  a  punching  bag  of  those   older  –––––––––––––––––––––––––   stronger.  a  lesson  that  lays  wrought  on  skin  first  by  her  father  then  her  mother    &   now  her  brother.  the  word  tastes  bitter.  it  did  not  fit  between  the  sharpness  of  her  teeth  anymore,  it  begs  to  spitted  out    &   renounced.  with  the  excruciating  pain  throbbing  in  leg  ricocheting  up  her  body,  bones  instinctively  compulsively  shaking,  hand  acting  like  armor  feels  the  cruel,  unnatural  curve  of  limb.  she  refused  to  cry.  she  refused  to  be  rendered  weak.   pathetic.   anger  swells   in  chest  filling  the  blank  gaps  between  her  ribs  with  every  labored  breath  beneath  breast,  red  seeping  behind  eyes  comforting  like  a  hug  welcoming  her  home.  her  glare  held  the  rage  of  an  ocean,  daggering  the  outline  of     him   for  the  loss  of  her  leg,  her  speed      &     the  pain  licking  flames  in  her  chest,  tissue  devoured  into  ash.  

are  you  finished,  κόρη ?   &   she  realizes  then  from  peripheral  view  she  hates  the  hue  of  her  hair  now.  she  wanted  to  painted  black.  she  feels   remnants   of  strength  coming  from  her  mother’s  word.  methodically,  meticulously,  monotonously  body  swiveled   &   pirouetted  until  she  could  stand  on  one  foot,  knowing  if  she  applied  pressure  on  the  other,  another  break  would  ensue.  knowing  if  she  applied  pressure,  her  leg  may  not  heal  to  its  original  form.    and   HE   did   that.    she  didn’t  think  it  was  possible  to  despise   another  man  like  she  did  her  father   &   it  felt   right.  fingers  curled  into  fists  carrying  brawls.  

                ❝    ––––––––––––––––––   no.     ❞    she  stops  fighting  when  she  can’t  anymore.   it’s  the  first  time  she  hear  cacophonies  of  screams  thriving  in  the  pit  of  her  throat,  kill  her  !   kill  her  !   as  vermillion  flowed. 

                 BATTLE IS HER ART       & destruction her weapon of choice.         even now predatory eyes    d a n c e    over wounded leg & marvel at the elegance, the  poetry                             how better to take down an opponent than to make it so they cannot flee ??   her precious, ruthless son                        she sees in him none of the INFERNO but the  quiet devastation  so oft forgotten in history       (      yet no less LETHAL     ).          his future stretches before timeless eyes,       the mosaic of tales long past and yet to come    w e a v i n g     together in pattern she believes knows will follow  ::        battle-born boy turned conquering crusader.         THOUSANDS will bend at his command           (              and millions more will FALL          ).        a war churns on the horizon                      the work of tireless sister bending the world to her whim                    and her son shall lead this world to ruin.      she sees it. she tastes it. she knows it.           damn that meddlesome mortal who would dare attempt to twist her spawn to another fate                          bloodshed sees this time that she is the victor in cold cruelty cast in son’s eyes. 

                      &    don’t forget her dear, glorious, IRREPRESSIBLE daughter.      her sweet deadly κόρη.         so eager to please,              so desperate for APPROVAL.            she wishes to see her taken apart piece by piece and put back precisely to bloodshed’s preferences.      she craves the sight of those rebellious,        awful bones    s n a p p e d    into bits and molded back together ::         something new ;; something BETTER.         oh but she has plans for precious daughter         (       so kind of uncle dearest to keep bringing her back to play           )

                     carmine lips part to reveal BESTIAL FANGS,            saccharine purr turning to vehement snarl. 

                    ❛            FINISH HER.           ❜    

             WAR TORN & BATTLE BORN ;;       bloodshed bred brumal boy    ;;     FURY forged fighter.     no part of his life remains unstained in   cruor   ;;            the earth beneath him becomes   crimson mire.      fight ! fight ! fight !              his blood sings ceaselessly,         heart pounding in cage of chest demanding                        perfusing him eternal with BLOODLUST and  devastation.         all he sees he wishes to destroy            all he touches he with ruins.         finish her !     honored mother commands and soldier shifts to obey.

              no ! no ! no !           the man screams,   staying hand.           no ! no ! no !         the mortal cries,          SCARLET stains streaming down pallid cheeks as corpses scream within the PYRE.       never before has he hesitated.    never before has he WAVERED.        never before has he  disobeyed.         and yet                       no !      the cry         e c h o e s ,    but now he knows who speaks.         from the fires of his birthright rises shade.          gran       he breathes with shaky gasp, feeling heart stutter in staccato ::      the first break in perpetual drumbeat driving him to war.               no !         she cries again        and in her eyes he sees what he has done, what he could yet do         (            what he could yet become         ).       no !            comes the cry again, this time a command        & man moves to obey.                   NO ! NO ! NO !         he commands.          he cannot                      he  will  not        (      not this time       ). 

               grip grinds,              fingers flex,               & weapon       c l a t t e r s            to earthen ground.       eyes shift from struggling girl         (       opponent           sister        DORCAS           )           to       BLOODSHED   herself,              gazing upon throne with defiance unbeknownst to him before this moment.           NO ! NO ! NO !

       Blah, blah, blah. The lid of her coffee came up to kiss her lips and the scorching drink scorched its way down her throat, and a long leg kicked his thigh to gather the attention that she did not know if she lost or not. More than likely, the title of constantly being a nuisance is one that will proudly caress her still beating heart. 

                   ❛  Stop lyin’ ta yourself. Aneurisms are just the spout                             of happiness ya feel when ya talk to me because all that                              coffee has dull your senses so everything just buzz. ❜

                    BROW ARCHES      and matching mug is brought to lips                to remain there for several long moments ::              a pointed, unnecessarily  long  sip of coffee # unknown of the day.       pesky nuisance of a girl              (         even his thought cannot curb fondness            ).         irksome kick is met with matching tap against knee that elicits kicking reflex ;;            he hides his amused smirk behind rim of coffee when booted foot clangs against table leg.       

                      ❛            OPPONENT INCAPACITATED.       no further action required.       ❜       tone holds NOTHING ::          no concern, no warmth, no AFFECTION.             soldier peers upon competitor with naught but brisk assessment analyzing posture, expression, proximity to weapon.    

misandrybear:

people reducing a character to a single trait and exaggerating it

when said character happens to be your favorite

When its not even a canon trait but something fanon pulled out their ass