#chantillystained

IF ONLY FORGIVENESS WAS EASY.  if   only  .   if   it   was   that   easy  ,   her   nights   would   not   be   full   of   terrors  ,   her   shoulders   would   not   feel   so    ——   heavy  .    a   crushing   weight   rest   upon   petite   shoulders  ,   her   redemption   was   dead   by   her   hand  . 

“   it’s   not   that   easy  ,  ”    her   thoughts   take   voice   as   brows   furrow  ,   gently  .    “   you   can’t   forgive   me   for   all   my   sins  ,   you   don’t   know   what   i   …  ”    what   did   you   do  ,   dear   girl  ?   what   sins   haunt   you   still  ?   dark   eyes   become   full   of   grief  ,   windows   to   the   soul   and   she   was   letting   him   see   her   soul   :   it   was   dark  ,   it   was   dangerous   because   her   soul   shatters   every   day   she   wakes   up   and   this   isn’t   a   nightmare  . 

such   a   childish   hope   yet   rose   dreams   of   waking   up   from   this   life  ,   she   dreams   of   going   back   to   that   seventeen   year   old   with   no   blood   staining   her   hands  .   she   was   probably   in   the   infirmary  ,   about   to   wake   up   any   second   and   see   those   dark   eyes   she   misses   so   deeply  . 

her   jaw   clenches  ,   tears   spring   to   her   eyes  .   “    you   can’t   fix   me  ,   no   one   can  .  ”    her   voice   is   fierce  ,   yet   there’s   a   softness   to   it   because   she   can’t   be   cruel   to   him  .   he   wasn’t   the   first  ,   he   wouldn’t   be   the   last   either  .   many   had   tried  ,   none   had   succeeded   in   fixing   what   was   broken   in   her   and   in   the   end  ,   she  leaves   them   in   pain  .

“   i   ruin   myself  ,   don’t   let   me   ruin   you  .   ”       (     run   boy  ,   run   fast  ,   run   far   !     )   

he   was   human  ,   he   wasn’t   a   moroi   however   she   put   him   first  ,   just   like   she   had   been   taught   her   entire   life  ,   THEY COME FIRST  /  ONLY   THEY   MATTER  .  the   only   difference   was   …   the   threat   wasn’t   a   strigoi  ,   the   threat   to   him   was   her  .   a   strigoi   might   have   been   kinder  ,   she   thinks   silently  . 

she’s   dangerous   because   she   aches   for   touch  ,   she’s   dangerous   because   touch   is   all   she   can   give   ——   her   heart   belongs   to   a   dead   man  .   how   could   she   love   another  ?   it   would   be   like   spitting   on   the   love   they   shared ,   a   love   that   left   her   aching   for   the   impossible  . 

“   we’re   done  ,   ”    from   a   young   age  ,   she   was    made   to   be   hard  ,   keep   her  emotions   in   check  .   she   leans   on   that   as   her   eyes   become   cold  ,   voluptuous   lips   part   as   a   sigh   slips   through  them  .   “   whatever   this   is  ,   it’s   done  .  ”     

              Daphne welcomes the soft stroke of the sun’s rays like a familiar LOVER waking her with wandering hands, its brightness shedding romantic light against the necklace of aggressive kisses so passionately displayed against her neck. It tilts back as a murmur of a sleep-thick groan vibrates along that smooth column of skin, swan-white and feathered in shades of red. 

This morning however, she’s in a room sunk in shadows, her feminine display of splayed limbs and exposed skin wasted on the darkness –– but not on him. 

“ I still have to persuade you to stay? ” She poses the question with the twitch of her elfish ears –– light outside the Seelie court hurts her sensitive eyes, and she’d rather rely on her hearing and her mouth, than fall back on simple sight. Besides, Daphne already knows quite well the BEAUTY of the man ( once a man? ) who shared his bed with her. 

Sitting up, bed sheets held to Daphne’s chest as a suggestion, though not a need, she finally opens her eyes to find Astor further than what pleases her. “ Aren’t you hungry? ” The intent is OBVIOUS between her lilting words. “ Stay for breakfast. I taste DELICIOUS in the morning. ” 

         “ Hey, Edgar Allen. ” Lollipop swathed by the pink of her tongue, the sticky-tips of her fingers pull it away so it leaves her lips shiny –– isn’t it somethin’ how a girl ( who is not really a girl ) can look so sweet, and be the very OPPOSITE? Like a cotton-candy machine, she’s enchanting until you decide to touch. “ Now, now, don’t look at me like that. I come with a white flag –– CROSS MY HEART! ” She winks something ominous, like the flap of a crow’s wings. 

it was late by the time she finally stepped outside of the bar, the pitch black sky above her making for a somewhat eerie scenario. while it was nothing brooke wasn’t already used to, she certainly wasn’t immune to the mind tricks the darkness could play on her. cold shivers ran up her body as she fumbled inside her bag to find the bar keys. her mind went to derek for a moment, wondering if he was already asleep, or if she’d be lucky enough to spend some time with him when she got home      the former was more likely, she knew. brooke may be content with her job for the most part, but it certainly came with its downsides.

the sudden sound of footsteps caught her off guard, dark locks bouncing as she jerked her head back to check for its source. whatever she expected to find, it certainly wasn’t a complete stranger with bloody features, looking like the outcome of something brooke did not want to know. “jesus fuck!” she shouted in surprise, jumping in place as she instantly dropped her keys in the process.

okay but is it just me or did the entire LOOK ( the makeup more than anything ) he had going on there & the aesthetic of the ball he was throwing seem very david bowie/goblin king in the labyrinth-esque?