→ 𝓛𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗦 : ⌞ INFO. HC TAG. PROMPTS. BLOGROLL. ⌝

[ ... ] ❛ ❛   i apologize if i've brought up a sensitive topic ... i'm admittedly inclined to always err on the side of compassion.   ❜ ❜

a   heart   in   a   cynical   sense   feels   nothing,   it   simply   carries   through   all   the   blood,   all   the   oxygen,   all   the   components   the   other   parts   that   do   feel   need.   an   ugly organ,   misshapen   &   strange   when   held   in   the   palm   of   your   hand.   yet,   it   is   the   centre   of   your   being.   it   is   the   core.   even   when   you   try   to   act   unaffected,   it   is   your   heart   that   gives   you   away,   skipping a beat,   fluttering   in   excitement,   halting   dead   in   terror.   you   have   so   much   of   it   to   give,   you   just   haven’t   learned   to   discern   who   is   &   isn’t   worthy   of   it   yet.   hold   onto   it.   do   not   whittle   it   down,   carve   names   into   the   flesh   that   you   cannot   erase.   remain   patient,   remain   astute,   &   remain loving.

❛ ❛   these   woods   are   strange   ...   it   feels   as   though   the   trees   are   listening, almost   ...   watching.   ❜ ❜   the   words   should   sound   hysterical   &   outlandish   to   a   girl   from   proper   society,   yet   alice   doesn't   so   much   as   flinch   at   them. ( you remain your father's daughter ).   ❛ ❛   yours   is   the   first   soul   i've   come   across   in   many   hours, miss.   ❜ ❜

out   of   breath,   lungs   aching   with   frantic   exertion   [ ... ]   alice   glances   left   &   right,   searching   desperately   for   any   sign   of   the   brilliant   blue   butterfly   she's   chased   from   the   gardens.   with   wendy   left   behind   in   a   sudden   flurry   of   rambled   excusals,   the   blonde   now   stands   in   the   center   of   a   sitting   area   carved   from   flowering   hedge   bushes   —   utterly   alone.   no   wendy,   no   absolem,   no   rabbit   hole.   alice   wants   to   scream   —   wants   to   feel   it   tear   her   throat   raw.   distraught,   she   falls   to   a   seat   upon   one   of   the   benches   [ ... ]   glassy   eyes   staring   off   into   the   distance.   (   you'll   never   make   it   back.   it   was   never   even   real   to   begin   with,   was   it   ?   )   countless   horrid   thoughts,   once   her   only   company   in   the   institute,   now   come   flooding   back   like   a   tidal   wave.   she   doesn't   consciously   hear   wendy   catching   up   to   her,   only   looking   up   when   the   other   woman's   voice   breaks   the   silence.   she's   a   needle's   breadth   away   from   shedding   the   hot tears   that   pool   beneath   beryl   eyes,   gazing   up   at   wendy   with   a   look   of   defeat.   ❛ ❛   i   thought   i   saw   ...   ❜ ❜   eyes   squeeze   shut,   alice   burying   her   head   between   hands   –   fingers   tangling   amidst   blonde   curls.   ❛ ❛   oh,   well,   nevermind   what   i   thought.   it   was   foolish to begin with.   ❜ ❜

❛ ❛   it's   never   the   pretty stories   that   remain   with   you,   is   it ?   ❜ ❜   poses   alice   with   a   distance   to   her   tone   —   always   elsewhere,   rarely   present   in   the   room   her   body   inhabits.   eyes   that   gaze   down   upon   plain   hands   lift   to   find   lestat.   their   presence   is   intimidating,   weighty   ...   like   the   vampire   takes   up   every bit   of   space   he's   owed.   still,   sitting   across   from   lestat   feels   no   more   frightening   than   facing   the   unwieldy   bandersnatch;   each   with   his   own   misunderstood   eyes   &   rows   of   sharp   teeth.   ❛ ❛   trust,   mister   de   lioncourt,   that   i   will   not   shy   from   the   uglier   details   —   if   you   are   inclined   to   share   them.   ❜ ❜