repost, don’t reblog!

animal - arctic fox

colour(s) - shades of purple and blue

month - december

song - writing on the wall (blackmore's night)

number - five

time of day - night

plant - purple heather

scent - old books

crystal - white opal

season - winter

place -  a forgotten library

astrological sign - capricorn

astrological house - tenth

astrological planet - saturn

element - water

musical genre - classical

@dangaer 🎼 &. 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Well, maybe it wasn't good idea to come at the shimmering light in the middle of the forest? Especially in Eridia, but, because she lost the count of the time, and ended up staying late, till the darkness almost fell down the sky, now she had no other option.

«...U-uh. I-Is it okay?»

Alice was risking to be eaten by the Soulles(but at least she had found the flowers she needed), or encountering any other creature she have no idea about the origin of. Moreover, she was cold, so at least she could warm up a bit, maybe?

She wasn't certain since there's countless monsters in this town, and the stranger seemed to be one of them. Though, something about his aura felt different from others (not exactly like Leander felt, however). All of them seemed unique in one way or another.

«...Thank you for the offer. I'll just...sit here for a few minutes to warm up a bit, okay? »

Alice watched him from under lowered eyelashes, not wishing for the stranger to notice her staring, but saw everything she needed: even in the growing darkness the man's eyes glowing red, and his whole body made of muscles. In any other scenario it could have excited her, but now it actually scared her.

I hope you all had a wonderful and safe time. ^.^ I can't @ everyone because dumblr is being... well, dumblr. But thank you all to everyone tagged below in the tags.

Unprompted Gordon starter for @dangaer

This  whole  ‘exchange  student’  nonsense,  or  whatever  they  insisted  on  calling  it,  was  insulting.  If  you  asked  Gordon,  that  is. 

Angels  of  their  standing  being  forced  to  fraternize  with  demons.  It  was  disgraceful,  utterly  disgraceful.  Honestly,  what  on  Earth  was  Michael  hoping  to  accomplish  with  such  a  frivolous  endeavor?  Not  only  was  it  degrading  on  it's  own,  but  it  was  also  a  colossal  waste  of  time.  But  alas,  as  much  as  he'd  made  his  displeasure  known,  it  was  still  Michael  who  ultimately  had  the  final  say  in  the  matter.   

For  the  most  part,  Gordon  had  been  able  to  bite  his  tongue  (  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  remain  civil  with  these  fiends  ),  but  his  patience  was  wearing  thin…  Granted,  patience  was  never  his  domain  to  begin  with.  Unlike  some  of  his  colleagues,  had  better  things  to  do  than  play  nice  with  demons.

He  would  concede  that  some  of  his  classmates  were  easier  to  get  along  with  than  others.  The  ones  with  manners  were  at  least  tolerable,  even  if  it  was  usually  just  above  the  bare  minimum  level  of  decorum.  To  say  he  was  still  a  bit  on  edge  would  be  an  understatement,  to  put  it  mildly.

"time's pretty precious, even to me - though i know you have a lot to spare as you're here using my head as a prop. "

if he were half as petty as his brother, he might have just used his wings to smack out right then and there for solomon to receive a mouthful of feathers. barbatos wasn't the only demon who kept time, though they both worked with it differently and saw it differently. where barbatos could tamper with time - and sometimes did, ipos didn't. he kept record of it, much like the orbs and bubbles that floated aimlessly in his study.

he tilts his head a bit, then, eyebrow raised as though to read her expression before he leans down closer, closing the distance between the two of them with nothing short of a pleased hum. it's a little forward, for one, yet countered by how gently his lips press against her cheek, a pleasant affair before the sorcerer pulls away with a smile, inevitably turning their positions with nothing to hint as to why. ❛  i'd be happy to help you too, i suppose ... though the price might be rather high! ❜ a joke, he'd digress, more than aware that even she could walk out with one mere step in his general direction.

The lights, the scents, the tastes, the atmosphere of (playful) happiness. She always liked the season, although it wasn’t as it used to be. She still remembers the long dresses, the corsets, and the…balls! Oh, she loved the balls; the beautiful sounds of waltzes. Beautiful men and women all united when the music was playing. Fans and high heels. Christmas trees and Christmas crackers. She’s deep in her thoughts. In missing (and yearning for) the times of her childhood; of her first outings. Of the times that are long lost and will never be back.

It’s not that she doesn’t like the modern Christmas. They’re perhaps less glittering, less enchanted (at least for her), but they seemed more relaxed. More for everyone and not only for those privileged in the society (though she didn't see it back then). The season might be missing the past charm (or its luxury), but it’s not that it doesn't make Nunnally happy. And her mood light and cheerful.

The demon girl is deep in her thoughts letting the snowflakes fall gently on her open palm. Almost instantly melting. Is Christmas going to be white?

Nunnally's so happy in her little world that she doesn’t hear him coming; it’s only when his arm gets wrapped around her shoulders (well, the words he spoke earlier only now are being recognized as directed to her). Nunnally didn’t expect such an intimate gesture (were they so close after all), but it isn’t that the gesture isn’t welcomed. That she doesn’t enjoy it. The demon girl turns her face towards the magician and nods in agreement: --

 “The lights…this is what I like most. In the evening when some parts of the city looks like being a different realm…”

“And skating rinks…although that’s more winter than specifically holiday related…” - skating was almost the only outdoor activity she was allowed back then.

She doesn’t look at Solomon anymore. Instead, she looks at the landscape of the fair painted in front of their eyes. She doesn’t notice as the sorcerer’s attention is brought to that very plant.

( “What do you mean?” ); she intends to ask, but is not given a chance before his lips are pressed (playfully?) against her cheek. Only then - when she again turns to him - she notices the plant.

“Oh, the mistletoe.” – she smiles; his kiss feels nice. But something she wouldn’t expect from the sorcerer. Again. Though she doesn’t know his younger demons that hide in that diary of his – “It’ now everywhere but in the old times it was not deemed appropriate for many.” – ‘for me’ is what Nunnally truly thinks when she recalls the years, and that epoch, that are long lost in the past. Her past. The world's past.

“If you take a step towards me…” – she jokes – “…I might be able to return the favour…”