#demonmaxwell

                              🌹  Welcome to the Gallery!🌹

       The girl gently lifts her bangs and stares at her eyes on the hand mirror, she drops the hand lifting her bangs and places the mirror at her side. She notices a figure at the corner of her eye, without even confirming who the person is, she whispers.

Lafcadio Boone DS-style portrait commission for @demonmaxwell​!

Below are the perks and stats written by demonmaxwell for Laffy:

           “Hating this world and Leaving it; in doing so, it remains, foolishly lost in memories.”

So, this was dying, huh?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this...

+10 Afraid

Elodie had done all she could to to be a good daughter and a good princess. She coughed in pain, allowing the salty ocean water to enter her lungs in defeat. In addition to her magic, she had been reading about managing the military. And so, Elodie had tried to lead her nation to victory.

She had ridden the front lines, like in days of old. And her magic was so mighty she was able to sink several ships on her own!

But it wasn’t enough. And now, how many Novanians were dead because of her? It was only fitting she joined them in death. It was what she deserved, and she would not defy the destiny fate had decreed for her.

+10 Yielding

Mama, can you see me? Elodie thought to herself. I tried really hard mama. I swear I did, Elodie thought to herself, her tears mixing with the cold ocean water around her. Why couldn’t we say goodbye? she thought. I love you, mama. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I wanna be with you. I want you to hug me again, Elodie thought desperately, smiling as she sunk deeper into the water.

At last, the nightmare was coming to an end. Surrounded by only the corpses of soldiers everything would finally come to an end.

+10 Lonely

Alone, as it should have been. She was always alone, even with papa by her side. One by one they had all turned on her: Lucille, Arisse, Banion, her former friends, everyone and everything had left her on her own to face these horrific events. She didn’t want to be in the cold water anymore. She wanted to be warm and dry. Wherever her mother was, and she could not wait any longer.

I’m coming home, mama.

+10 Depressed

But something happened.

What is this...? Something was pulling her from the water. She struggled briefly, before realizing that whatever it was, it was a chance for life. Elodie had abandoned the notion of surviving this, yet she was being given a choice?

Something primordial awoke in her. The feeling of being alive, the feeling of life coursing through her. The natural instinct of all animals to survive, or something else?

Get me... get me out of here!

If the world wants me dead, then it’ll have to try harder! She swam towards the force, her mood changing. The longing of death and surrender filled instead by endless determination. The world had kicked her down at every opportunity, so once given the chance, she discarded all prior emotions to survive.

To survive.

That’s all she had done these past 36 weeks, but now a new desire filled her. Not to survive, but to live.

+20 Willful +20 Angry

I WILL LIVE!

@demonmaxwell

Webber hasn’t been here for long. He would say that it’s been little over a month, but he’s lost count. 

The sun is bright, and it’s a rarity where the boy actually feels at ease. The night is gone, and as such, so are the monstrous oddities that lurk within it. A hand slips into the opening of his backpack, mildly torn and worn out, and exits with a green mushroom, cooked and still warm to the touch. Eight eyes squint, spare hand resting on his forehead to soothe his headache. Sharp teeth bite a chunk of the chewy fungus, and swallow. His head feels better. 

“We need to get things done today,” he reminds himself under his breath. His attention is drawn to a statue up ahead, and it looks disgustingly familiar. He approaches with reluctance, only to find it to be a towering interpretation of Him in all his glory. His backpack falls to the floor with a thud. 

“Y-You... you tricked us, you-!” he doesn’t want to finish the sentence. Mother had lectured him about bad words... oh well. A foot knocks the backpack over and its items spill out, only for the spider to grasp the wooden end of his pickaxe. He knows what he’s doing. 

“W-We trusted you, we thought you could help!” he grits his teeth and with a loud clink, the axe swings and chips of the statue fall to the floor. “Liar... liar, you’re a monster!” he continues to swing. No, Webber, you’re a monster, his conscious says, and he only begins swinging faster with more and more boiled despair.