#* para.

     it began as a possibility.   even less so, the possibility of a possibility.   one day,   she’d remembered the beauty of grass,   or touch,   or warm smells,    and after what seemed a long slumber,    she’d awakened again with the ache of uncomfortable    clothes     and thick-toothed combs to brush her hair.     she didn’t know how long it had been,  human time always slipped right through her fingers, she’d never bothered to learn how it ticked   and ticked   in seconds and minutes and hours and days, weeks, months,    years.   the shoreline of Creation Peaks remained the same.    the salmon-like roads to reach were still the same,   though harder now without the mutual-aiding of her sisters to swim up.

     she’d lurked,  found her cave once again and noted that all her little trinkets remained there    -a surprise,   though she figured either the locals had enough urban legends about touching shiny things in the wild to scare even the biggest of non-believers, or the access to the cave was just...  too much haste.   too deep,  too dark,  too far until reaching that one pocket of   air.    for her,  it was no issue.    there was no moonlight in there,   only able to see by the grace of her still-unchanged eyes.   the cave was beautiful,  and hers alone.    amongst her things,   she found a stone that could be confused for a charcoal still intact,   and smiled. upon closer inspection, it glistened as though something within it was shining, no outer light source to reflect off on.     that,  her one necklace,   silver and long, with a heavy moonstone pendant that hung at her solar plexus.    the mermaid ventured off again into the water,    and when she emerged once again,  she did so to reach the shoreline.

       the process to dry was always long,  tedious,   but at least for the first while,   merida enjoyed it.   at some point,     she saw her scales shed,  glistening under the moonlight,  and her body take the form of the human she’d practically forgotten she could be.     forms in the dark became less detailed,   though not lost just yet,   the webs and claws that made her hands now reabsorbing and retracting to reveal the dewy skin of a maiden forgotten.    a sigh,  clear hues looked up at the moon,   then she stood.   and fell.    of course,   legs.   the cliché existed for something.    the mermaid shook her head,  puffing out her cheeks, then tried again,   her bare body barely even noticed to her as her body   remembered   how to do the    walking   once again.   

        once she’d gotten the gist of it, the mermaid turned her back to the lake and walked,   as she’d arrived to the shoreline,   a sight for   -hopefully-   no human lurker to behold and be beautifully haunted by.        just a few steps in,   of course,   lest she wanted to really venture off into town like some maker had brought her into the world   -   kind of.       the sharp stone was layered, porous,  and the water hadn’t done any favours to it,   nor had time.     putting it inbetween her hands,  she pressed until the shards of glass-like stone drew blood as they dug into her skin, then let it all drizzle down onto the sand, a mixture of blood and ancient stone.     the shadows from the pier were just a couple of steps away.             “    ze-el,   “         her voice came out in a sing-song-esque tone.

    after the wedding reception,  lizze had spent a few days just...   high.   on several substances,  and the landing to reality was proving to be bad.   the blinds were down,  her phone had been dead for at least two days and she wasn’t even sure where it was amidst the mess of her usually neat-kept room.   she’d been able to keep the spinning of her mind at bay with...    well,  too many things.   things she didn’t frequent,  she didn’t make a habit of,  but that she’d found way too comforting.     now,  the world was bland and she was a bad person again.   now,  her life was her own again and her body was her own,  a body that didn’t feel invincible,  but beat down.   the world was bleak,  see.

     laid down on her unmade bed,  hair tangled and makeup that hadn’t been taken off in at least three days,  only re-touched again and again in the small sobriety windows between drug intake and drug intake,  lizze didn’t even react at the first knock.   or the second.   the third granted a small,  annoyed groan,  though she still made no attempts to get up and open the door.   it was only after the prolonged insistence that lizze decided to get up,  that whoever was deadset on annoying her wouldn’t just decide she wasn’t there and leave.           “  yeah!  “          was all she managed to call out,  rubbing her head with her hand as she sat up,  reached for the pack of cigarettes on the floor nearby and lit a cigarette before managing to get up and slowly drag her feet across the room up to the door.   the sight of lola would’ve surprised her on any other day,  but she seemed to be extremely non-reactive,  and only frowned.        “  sup?  “

      @sebastiiens .

              for third time in the year ,        the king and queen had shipped agnes off to luxembourg ,      in hopes of what ?               she wasn’t sure .                she had no choice more than to      obey .               still ,      it was never a boring time when she was there ,     considering it gave her the possibility to know other nightlives and make ties that’d sure prove to be fruitful for her ...               project .                  so now ,     agnes knew how it was going to go down :           once dinner was done ,      they’d all move to the drawing room on the west side of the castle ,      and chatter .            she’d be offered some brandy ,      the king would half scold her for taking it ,      half hint that would she want more ,     she was welcome to it ,            and then they’d play some cards .              the king and queen would retire mid - game ,       most would go to bed ,      and agnes would be left alone with the second son ,     sebastien .                then it was chess ,     or quiet reading in eachother’s company .

             however ,       things unfolded differently and as soon as dinner was done with ,      the king managed to excuse himself and his wife ,      and everyone else followed because if the parents weren’t there ,        there was no point in pretending .                    looking at the time ,      agnes sighed and looked across the table to sebastien .

                         ‘       ---------- i have some time to kill .            chess ?     ‘

@rlanaparrilla ;; ||

Bellamy had made a point of being the one to drive out to Lana’s place specifically; she was going to get a handle on the ins and outs of Royal if it was the last thing she did. For time’s sake, she did allow herself to use the GPS; had she not had any restrictions, she might’ve opted to go on nothing but some light directions (and not just because she was hopeless when it came to technology). The trip was worth it - there was no denying that once she finally came to pass into Bayou d’Or. A scenic drive by the water was something she told herself she was going to have to do again. 

@remindvr !

        to say lizze felt like a damn idiot was an understatement.  for the past three months, she’d been talking herself into forgetting all about ezra, with all the complications that entailed being that they still worked together.  he’d been a shit person to her, sure, but...  all’s fair in war and love, and there was this part of her that just...  didn’t find the means to say no to him.  not the means nor the desire to.  if she were to say no to him, it’d be solely out of an attempt at retaining -or re-acquiring- some bit of her dignity, not based on a genuine desire.  still, after months of denying him in presence and thoughts, here she was, throwing an oversized sweater over her, putting on her sneakers and grabbing the vape, wallet and weed.   clouds of smoke lifted above her and she wished it was an actual cigarette instead of synthetic grape-flavored smoke. 

       night was warm, silent for the most part.  stopping at a kiosk on the way to his place, she bought a pack of marlboros and a lighter.  the first drag made her cough.  four months no smoke, to hell.  finally, the door to his apartment complex appeared in sight, heartbeat drumming in her ears like an annoying suspense music, like her heart was trying to warn her or fuel her with enough anxiety that she’d take off running elsewhere.  she didn’t do such thing.  flicking the ash from the cig, the blonde leaned against the building’s wall, texting a short:    downstairs.    and putting her phone in the back pocket of her shorts again.

       when night came and everyone retired to their bedrooms ,      the halls fell silent and there was only the light tremor of each fireplace burning behind each of the doors .              it was ,      perhaps ,      the most calm agnes felt during her stay in buckingham :         her long ,      stiletto - clad strides guided her swiftly and uninterruptedly down the palace’s stairs ,      through empty and quiet halls ,        nodding in recognition to a few maids and butlers ,     nothing major .             it was beautiful ,     truly ,     a giant of stone and tapestry to behold when the dust that only comes with age and marvel came down from the ceilings and attempted to settle before anyone else disrupted its peace .             agnes ,     though aware ,      was in a rush to        get out .                  she had her rented motorbike a few blocks away from the palace and had to get to god - knows - what party under some god - knows - what bridge .                 then she had to go to a deadend bar to coddle with the big fish ,       get high and do a couple of lines on marble tables ,       flirt with the biggest fish of them all and wrap him around her pinky finger like she had to every one .              by the end of the night ,      he’d be handing her wads of cash like it was nobody’s business         ( but her own ) . 

         through the kitchen she wanders down a narrow hall and to the boiler room ,       then slips out through the backdoor that lands her ,      perfect ,      at the gardens .                  empty ,     all of it as she walks unfolds with wonder .             the cold air reddens her nose readily ,     she breathes in and feels it puncture her insides with a certain delight .                empty ,     empty ,      finally alone  -------  or nearly .             a figure ahead of her catches her attention ,      the silhoutette a cutout of darkness in the light that pours down from a lamplight .              and yet she knows who it is .              the feeling of her stomach ,      her whole body trembling ,      the previous day has agnes walking more decidedly in his direction .                  he is ,     at the very least ,      inbetween      her      and the door .                 nearly soundlessly except for the gravel ground rattling softly beneath her every step ,       agnes falls into step with howell .                               ‘       it’s not very       princely       to sneak out in the dead of night ,           liefje1 .       ‘