DI VOS NON SERVABVNT .

bold what applies .

I . THE FAIRY .     chipped nail polish . glitter highlight . tall trees with smooth bark . tangled hair . the taste of cinnamon sugar . talking too loud and too fast . overgrown flowers in your hair . crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature . flirting . walking home at 3am with no coat .platonic hand-holding . blowing smoke out of your nose . dragonfly wings . chaotic good .freckles . fairy rings . secret meetings . gender nonconformity . leather . smudged eyeliner .forbidden fruit .

II . THE REAPER .     computer errors . a shiver down your spine . haunting beauty . hard liquor . crowns of thorns . shadowed alleyways . decaying plant matter . shattered mirrors and broken glass . corrupted memories . stopped clocks . the scent of stale cigarettes . tattered black hoodies . walking your friends home . the crescent moon . the sea . a graveyard on a foggy day . cold rings on cold fingers . absolution . looking out the window of an airplane .soft kisses .

III . THE WITCH .     graffiti . pretending to know what you’re doing . worn paperback books .growing up too fast . parsley , sage , rosemary , and thyme . lace and combat boots .moth wings . candles on every surface . a weathered deck of cards . turning the music up .fireflies in jars . calloused fingers . drawing on your skin . sunlight filtering through clouds .petrichor . a dying rose in a jar . wearing a crystal pendant . illusions and spells . black cats .mint gum . chapped lips . dirt under your fingernails . the cycle of life and death .

IV . THE WOLF .     murders of crows . frost-bitten leaves . wolves howling at midnight .knocking on your door.  leaving food out for stray animals . the twang of an acoustic guitar .honey . tiny red buds on trees . claw marks on the walls . golden eyes . slightly too long stubble . sharp canines . soft , thick fur. hunger . a small cottage in the middle of the woods .knitted fingerless gloves . sleeping on the forest floor . always finding your way back home.

     @asterites

      “I don’t presume that explosions are relevant to flashy.” She suspects – – — perhaps thinking too much on the matter. She speculates though, for her affinity with class usually dealt with explosions. Living a peaceful existence had given her a new perspective on life, but in honesty she does miss fieldwork. Throughout her escapades, Ashelia developed the tenacity to be amongst her comrades – opposed to sitting upon a throne, despite all the protest. She aided in one mission, she will aid in another. The Queen would always possess a sword in hand – for ally, or for foe.

     Had she been one for flashy – perhaps for entrances ; but breaks? Ashe forfeits, knowing her lose. Though, this defeat only lies with what has been – not daring to touch the inevitability of the future. It is perfect in its nonexistence. It left the Queen to surely thing of opportunities. What will be next?

     “Ahahh--” Ashelia surmises, thoughtful with her rebuttal. “I imagine I shall stick my stellar entrances -- but it couldn’t hurt to leave my, camaraderie, to endure a moment or two of suspense.” She offers a smile, laced with the intent of mischief -- despite her, the Queen does seek a moment to reevaluate herself. 

@esxensio

     – within the face of inevitability, these monarchs had survived theirs odds. Yet, the weight they bear upon their shoulders could not be weighed by modern, trivial trials. Ashe refuses daring with a comparison. She does not know Noctis’ pain – their experiences ever remain an endeavour to understand; regardless of their scars, they had built succor in each other’s presence. Ashe had grown used to being within the King’s company – often engaged in various matters, be modest or meaningful. 

      Noctis imparted ambition-laden words to her – heavy as they were succinct. Ashe took the King’s declaration and weighed it against the thoughts of her heart. Azure hues found themselves lidded as they cascaded to the floor – in her moment of silence, Ashelia adorned a smile, followed by the faintest of laughter. It is not shy from happiness – a simper direct to present an answer, despite the reticent amusement. In truth, she is content. 

     “Not once I had denied your caress, Noctis.” She speaks to him, by name. Her curious eyes are in search of the echoes of truth – locked in similar royal hues. 

      Amiable extremities slink, plucking a battle-worn hand from Noctis’ side; She’s not afraid of the connection they’ve come to build upon. Fingers trace the evidence of age upon his hands – with every flaw in between. Ashe had been acquainted – familiarizing herself with such cicatrice, knowing they held a grandeur of sorrow. It left her, with a lingering inquiry, that her voice could not sate. Only time could bestow an answer. 

     Is her presence enough anodyne for Noctis’ scar-covered heart? 

     “I have little desire to dismiss the declaration you bear; you are not the only one with outstanding feelings, my King.” She makes this moment to confide in her friend -- ally. Like the had once set outside of Insomina’s palace, many moons ago. It’s an acceptance -- no -- an acknowledgement of her own feelings; relieving her heart of the curiosity. “If you, too, desire our connection; I shall want for no other.”