#bhaarga

God vc: what is… hell?

the fact that you have the good and evil alignment while you base the entirety of your purpose on eliminating evil but can’t recognize that you yourself might be held as ‘evil’ for your actions because that’ll lead into a never ending spiral of confusion and destructive impulse because you have nothing to measure yourself by...

♡･ﾟ: *   UNPROMPTED.   ┊   always accepting. ↳   @bhaarga​   has entered the fox den:   ❝ Ahri, ❞ Drifting, feet never touching the ground, he floats near to her side, but not close enough to touch, to feel. Close enough to know he's real. ❝ Is this fame really what you desire? ❞

   TO STAND ENTIRELY BARE IN FRONT OF THE EYES OF ANOTHER, TO BE DEPRIVED OF THE DEFTLY CRAFTED MASK THAT SHE ADORES AND NEEDS IN EQUAL MEASURE, TO BE FORCED TO DIRECTLY FACE THE MOST CRUEL OF TRUTHS   ───   No longer a diva crafted with gold and diamonds, merely a young woman who walks down a path that she never truly chose for herself. His words resonate within the depth of her mind, echo against her ears and then slithers down her proudly arched back  ;  lying to him now would be futile, unfair, utterly foolish as he seems capable of seeing through and past what she wants others to see. 

   There is a fleeting moment of silence, a brief pause in which the flutters of her belligerent heart become almost too violent and fervent to bear. AND SHE THINKS, over and over again, about a coherent response that might manage to vocalize the truth and the false at the same time, with equal strength. And yet, a doubt gnaws and howls in the back of her head: would it really be that tremendous to open up, for once  ?  To outwardly and proudly declare that her desires lay elsewhere, that money and fame mean absolutely nothing to her, that her most intimate dreams are embellished not by the cold and artificial lights of the stage but by blooming flowers and starlit skies  ?  She hesitates, shifts her weight from one foot to the other, recoils her fur-coated appendages into a single mass of silken fur. 

♡･ﾟ: *   HEADCANONS !   ┊   not accepting. ↳   @bhaarga​​    has entered the fox den:   ⭐️⭐️⭐️

⭐️    ───   ON WELCOMING HIM HOME.

Due to the fact that Ahri can never be really certain of when he will come to visit her, she always keeps an extra dose of her favorite herbal teas  (  rose-scented, with a lingering flavor of wild vanilla and honey, sprinkled with cumin and drenched in edible gold  )  so that she always has something warm and soothing and comforting to offer him, a silent and mayhap infantile way to say “welcome back home”. As this has become a sort of unofficial tradition for them, she looks forward to sitting outside of her little hut, beneath the dusk cerulean and ‘pon a large blanket of wool, with a cup of steaming tea in her hands and her cheek comfortably nested on the side of his shoulder. 

⭐️    ───   ON STARS AND FLOWERS. 

One would be surprised by how much fervor Ahri can possess, when it comes to tending to the ones that she cares about. As someone who’s always been accustomed to the beautiful feeling of having colorful blossoms braided into her long and wavy tresses, she has eventually began to ask him to do the same to his hair  ;  at first, her gestures were hesitant and even the choice of the flowers would easily send shivers of anxiety down her proudly arched spine. However, after she has repeated this same little ritual for a few times, she has now become more than eager to run her lithe fingers across his locks, whilst carefully placing little blossoms here and there and, sneakily, pressing fleeting kisses against the back of his head. All the flowers that she picks for him seem to share a common theme: the pentas laceolata, the impala lilies and the hoyas are all shaped like stars, quite fitting for someone who resembles the sometimes unreachable but ever magnificent moon.

⭐️    ───   ON PHYSICAL CONTACT.

TO BE SANCTIFIED IN SPOKEN AND WRITTEN WORDS IS TO NEVER TRULY DIE   ──   Every mistake and every virtue is thus set to stone, a haunting memento of yesterdays and a cruel warning for the morrow. In spite of the all-devouring pride that resides in the very marrow of her bones, there are some rare and fleeting occurrences in which the vulpine vastaya cannot hinder herself from trembling underneath the weight of those WIDESPREAD TALES that depict her as either an ominous beast or as an earthly deity. SHE IS NEITHER, this is what she repeats to herself   /   SHE IS JUST A WILD FOX, nothing more. Lips plucker onwards into the vision of a puerile moue and the she-fox dares to lean against the figure seated right beside her  ;  it’s a still tentative gesture, yet one that momentarily hastens her heartbeat.   ❝  How many tales have been written to honor your name  ?  ❞  

♡･ﾟ: *  UNPROMPTED !   ┊   always accepting.  ↳   @bhaarga​​  has entered the fox den:   Sacred lotus blossoms are held out like an offering, or they would be an offering if they came from anyone else. For him, this God of Absolution - Destruction given flesh, they are a gift, carved from his own thoughts, his mechanical heart. It is hello, it has been so long. It is almost, almost 'I have missed you,' but his heart does not know how to translate the feeling into words. He holds them out and his eyes seek her own. His mouth curls ever so slightly.

THERE IS A PREVIOUSLY UNEQUALLED SONG ECHOING INSIDE HER TIGHT RIBCAGE, a grand  &  hypnotic  &  harmonious melody that fills the vacant spacing betwixt fragile bones and that builds a holy cathedral in the ancient marrow within  ;  it’s a siren song, a merciless string of divinely crafted notes that pulls her closer into the soothing embrace of a something that is entirely foreign to her  (  it feels warm  &  cold at the same time, the KISS OF DEATH  &  THE KISS OF THE MAIDEN conjoined into one  )  . 

For naught but a fleeting moment, the demoness is wholly overwhelmed by sentimental inertia. Her body does not move, not even her fur-coated appendages dare to ruin this instant with their fervent sways   ──   Still she remains, desperately holding her ichorous muscle in her clawed hands with the unique purpose of cruelly hindering it from SINGING, from externalizing all the flutters  &  all the missed beats that are oh so disgustingly uncharacteristic for someone who has long since been known to be a MAN-EATER. But such visceral things cannot be contained by mortal means and they soon begin to flow... Her hostility is vanquished, her cracked soul is completely stripped of its defenses and in the eyes of a god, SHE STANDS BARE. 

LET’S TALK ABOUT DYNAMICS BETWEEN OUR MUSES ! ✿   accepting.💘   ──   friends to lovers.💚   ──   skinny love.💙   ──   slow burn.