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they say the wicked grow thorns but so do the cunning her smile was entrapment it was poisoned honey
long live the queen | a.m (via ginnys)

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( @judithknox )
“I feel inclined to warn you–” Nahuatl began, painting her lips a bright, cherry red. It was not the preferred style of the average lady, but she could appreciate the intimidation of a sanguine pout. “–whatever you are about to tell me will not be taken in confidence.” Royal advisors may not share court gossip or national secrets, but they did build their house of cards on their skeletons. Whatever she learned, Nahuatl shared with her monarchs. “But please go on, I do so love the SPOILS of a silver tongue.” As she perfected the line of her plump lips, Nahuatl rested her delicate chin on a smooth hand–decidedly a hand of status, not one made for physical toil–she grinned with attention.
∘⡊♚ ˚⊹ ares riddle.
The dark figure intrigued him, he couldn’t really recognize if it was a man or a woman. But he was sure that it belonged to a human, another interesting story hidden behind the veil of the night. Usually, there was no one here. That’s why he admired the place; it offered him a chance to think without interferences. However, he didn’t mind sharing it – there was enough place for two lonely souls. The voices of his parents echoed in his head, telling him that the stranger might bring danger. He should attack the figure before it had the chance to realize his intentions. Sadly, the fake morals with which his parents fed him weren’t strong enough to overcome his curiosity and his desire to befriend. He came closer to the figure , allowing it to see his face. “ Are you lost ?”
“Not lost.” No, Nahuatl was made in shadows. Wars were born and died within the space between lines scrawled on parchment and she was there to make the HISTORY that was lost between them. The darkness was not safe for a woman of her status; it was not a place for the ROYAL ADVISORS of lesser kingdoms to play subterfuge in and yet--for a woman of pestis no place could be closer to perfection. “Are you offering to find the way or simply hoping aloud that I don’t know it?” Smug query from a gentle tongue; Nahuatl was practiced at the dry humor of court. “I am simply enjoying the comforting silence of night, which I presume is not such a far cry from what brings you out at such a devilish hour.”
My whole being calls for an act of violence, but I still use velvet gloves.
Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary; 1939-1947 (via violentwavesofemotion)

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…but the truth is I am terribly weak. And I crave the balm of beautiful and soft things.
Anaïs Nin, from a diary entry featured in Linotte: The Early Diary Of Anaïs Nin (1914-1920)

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