* 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓.

Sigrika   had   never   been   kissed   before   ..   but   despite   that,   she   was   certain   this   was   how   it   was   meant   to   be.   Being   so   intimately   close   ...   with   the   person   she   adored.

And   then   as   they   parted,   she   pouted   slightly,   not   entirely   ready   to   stop   just   yet.

"....I..."   words   paused   on   her   tongue   as   she   took   in   a   soft   breath.   "I...I   really...   really....   like   you   too."   she   murmured   sheepishly...   "I   have   for...   a   long   time...."   with   that   confession   of   her   own,   her   lips   playfully   grazed   his,   a   gentle   tease..

𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑺𝑶 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑳𝒀 𝑬𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑰𝑴 ;  it awakened his competitive spirit and he found his inner psychological world inhabited by her teasing presence, the avowal of her cordial truths occupying every electrified synapse.  externally and internally, they reflected their thereness and emotions in perfect sync.  her shy words were the cause of his confidently loving effect, her muted playfulness only emboldening him to pick up on where she left herself for him.  “ oh  —  you have ?  but what if i liked you for longer, ”  he returned her tease in his own way.  one hand traversing a daring route along the side of her hourglass curve and pressed itself against her back, and as physical consequence, pressed her form against his.  their chests united, their hearts reaching for the other but never touching, akin to birds trapped within their bodies.

@omorrow asked: 💋 well then, it’s night, the mood is right (the mood has always been right), they sit together.  the joints of his curled fingers caress her cheek light as feathers.  softly johan asks “may i kiss you?”  and if she gives her consent, he’ll waste no more nanosecond to close the remaining gap between them.  //  from @fracturs

He   was   always   so   incredibly   patient   with   her   -   gentle,   kind   ....   even   in   the   moments   where   she   could   only   show   weakness   and   distress.   He   didn't   criticize   the   Heliodic   Six   successor's   insecurities   and   fears.   Instead   he   uplifted   her   -   shining   his   radiant   light   upon   her.   It   was   no   wonder   her   feelings   of   friendship   had   transcended   into   something   so   much   more.

"Mm...."   cheek   pressed   against   his   touch,   face   a   rosy   hue.   ".....You   may...."   she   murmured,   heart   fluttering   within   her   chest.

And   then   before   she   could   even   blink,   his   lips   had   pressed   oh   so   sweetly   against   hers.   The   sensation   dizzying   as   her   lithe   arms   wrapped   around   him   --   pulling   him   closer.

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑴𝑨𝒀 , 𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑨𝑰𝑫 , 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝑶𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵 𝑺𝑵𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑫.  closer she pulled him, and his hollow torso filled up with the bloom of gerberas, light, and want.  how it rattled in there, the rapid rhythm she evoked by accepting his attraction, absorbing it, and how that elated him, how that encouraged him to cross the line more, how that made him.  boldly, his fingertips cradled the contour of her fine jaw like a grail and he dared sip the sunlight from her lips.  there was no language quite like kissing.  nice to speak freely like this.  it was all in there sending his message, pressed unrestrained against her soft edges :  be free with me, always.  be brave with me, and hold onto me tighter. 

☆ 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐒 : 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 .... 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ☆

herein lies demises' elegy. a haunting melody creeks within the echos of dust and memory, as immaterial fades and words fall into deaf's ascent. there is a hollowness in the air, and it taste bittersweet. she sees your grief and understood your sorrow — empathy digging daggers within the outline of her throat, her larynx falls silent as if mourning alongside slumped shoulders and aversive gaze. she does not say anything, not at first. instead, she allows you to wallow, digest, and absorb its fallen death cry. your hand over memorable fabric and she understood the inability to let go — the false consolation of their third eye, masquerading death with lingering spirits as if granted another chance. she understood the appeal so diabolically well, that if one allows themselves to fall into such delirium, they too are fated to wither away. and this, right here is a curse that all etro's chosen must bare : to stand with the living, or one day relinquish your life to the sweet wonderland of death.

❝ — i'm sorry, ❞ stella words fade softly now, with more compassion gently intertwine from her breathe. she does not make sudden movements, allowing herself to follow the crescendo to those that surrounds you. spirits of all shapes, of all colors, mourning alongside you for the companion that has now fallen to your grace. now here is the question : what happens when a dead spirit is claimed dead once more? it fades away and returns to the gates above, like fractured glass rising with the wind. she was not like you, no — you were blessed with love that was immaterial, spirits who adore you / who stood by you, when all of humanity cowered before the unseen. even now, as you grieve, you are surrounded with so much compassion from the other-side. pacing herself forward, she kneels alongside you and exhumes your fallen comrade. particles dwindling down to lackluster crystal and fading light, desperately pulsing after the man they acknowledged as kin. ❝ can you get up for me, johan ? ❞

her voice interrupts, head tilts and she blinks almost expectedly — the brightest star to latin's dark has always been known for her polite stature, and peculiar language of both expression and demand. tugging her hand forward, she urges you to acquiescence to her request. posture now rising, she waits for your response before grabbing your wrist and venturing from behind. ❝ i understand you are mourning, but you also know what needs to be done. your friend ... cannot stay here, this one needs to go back to their home now. ❞ there is no malice in her voice, no callous or unfeeling, only the shared knowledge of what comes after a heart looses its meaning in a world that is seen. ❝ i could lead them to the gate but ... i think it will be more meaningful if you do it instead. i can show you how if you let me ? ❞

@omorrow asked: “aha, someone’s awake.”  is the first thing sigrika might hear when she enters the kitchen and finds johan cooking their breakfast, and thank goodness it’s sunday and she slept in.  this gave him plenty of time to prepare a few things among the dishes on the table, such as a flower bouquet of orange gerberas. if she were to look she’d find a note placed between the petals which says :  ‘pretty flowers for the prettiest girl in the world.’  apparently the word ‘corny’ does not exist in his vocabulary and he’s elected to spoil her in whichever ways his last few coins permitted.  the other thing is a box of star crackle.  naturally, he had to spend a day borrowing someone else’s kitchen to not get caught red-handed by her in creating them, and it will take a while for him to not smell like sugar anymore but that was a sacrifice he willingly made for his dear siggy.  he then turns his head from stove to her with a big grin.  “happy birthday and good morning.”   //  from @fracturs :)

Unbraided   curls   of   tangerine   cascaded   along   the   royan   girl's   back   and   slightly   upon   the   floor   as   she   walked,   wiping   away   the   sleep   from   the   corners   of   her   eyes   as   she   gave   a   curious   tilt   of   her   head.

"Johan....   what   are   you   ---?"   words   fell   off   her   tongue   when   she   noticed   the   arrangements   around   their   kitchen   table.   Flowers   ...   and   her   favorite   color   too!   Of   course   she   immediately   noticed   that   little   piece   up   paper   ....   it   stood   out   quite   a   lot   among   the   orange   petals.   "....This....   is   for   me?   You....   You   didn't   have   to   do   that..."   she   spoke   with   a   bashful   smile   as   fingers   gingerly   opened   up   the   note.

‘pretty   flowers   for   the   prettiest   girl   in   the   world.’

Sigrika's   apple   cheeks   instantly   blossomed   into   a   crimson   rose,   heart   fluttering   (just   a   tad)   within   her   chest.   Ah.....   why   did   he   always   make   her   feel   all   warm   and   fuzzy   inside??   There   wasn't   any   other   person   in   the   whole   world   that   made   her   feel   that   way   ............

The   presence   of   star   crackle   did   not   go   unnoticed   either....   something   only   those   of   the   roya   tribe   had   a   tendency   to   make.   Something   she   missed   her   Mother   making   for   her.

"...   You   are   so   incredibly   sweet....   thank   you.   I   almost   forgot   it   was   my   own   birthday...   hehe...   silly   of   me,   isn't   it?"

⸺ on soulmates and suffering.

The   successor   had   to   do   better   -   ....   become   more   dependable.   yet..   in   this   moment,   she   wanted   to   inconvenience   Johan   ...   just   a   bit.   A   selfish   desire   ...   but   one   she   couldn't   help   feeling, ....she wanted to be alone with him

After   leaving   the   bustling   noise   of   hearty   festivities,   emerald   gaze   briefly   met   the   twinkling   artificial   stars.   Even   if   they   were   simply   projections   ....   it   was   still   beautiful   ....   especially   with   someone   so   dear   by   her   side.

but   then   he   released   her   and   that   sensation   strangely   made   her   feel....lonesome?   So   much   so   that   she   nearly   pouted.   "I-   um....   wouldn't   mind   keeping   up   with   this...   act,   a   little   longer?"

𝑨 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑫𝑼𝑮 𝑰𝑻𝑺 𝑹𝑶𝑶𝑻𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑻𝑾𝑶 ;  and he found himself with besottedness rushing through the very pulse which possessed him so.  succumbing to the beat and attuning his lineaments to its magical effect.  he set them both up for a dangerous game of mixing sincerity with pretense, blending them together and blurring the separating line.  the likelihood was high the line never existed.  an absent distaste for the concept of performative paramours was proof for this theory to have any merit, and mayhaps the subtle tone of disappointment over their physical parting morphed into an excuse to let their masks temporarily fall.  bizarrely enough, relief replaced the melancholy felt for their distance, a distance shortly to be dismantled.  “ yeah ? well then ... let’s. ”  

nimble digits mindfully reclaimed hers, his egotistical wish full on display, and her own, indulged.  he had taken another quiet step, to gravitate towards her once again, to not tug her too harshly.  there were immeasurable amounts of admiration woven into the act of lifting and drawing eight of her ten fingers to his mouth, kissing them with silent love and closed eyelids, and grinning at her idea of abduction. lovely sigrika, the considerate, self-constrained 'good girl' terrified to disappoint but easily bewitched by rascal behavior, did not quite gauge the superficial reverence he inspired within others, and how fragile his acquaintanceships were.  glass-bone constructions frequently ending in semi-returned devotion and the rotting debts that installed themselves within them, and they shattered so quickly, and so quickly they were buried and abandoned.