#devotiune

"Your effort has not gone on unappreciated."

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devotiune replied to your post: oh great. dads here.

“(whips out knife) where where the fuck is he”

        At the angel’s words, the marble statue came alive and revealed herself to be a woman. She turned her head to face him, sorrowful eyes fluttering. She idly wondered how long he had been observing her but supposed it didn’t really matter. Creatures like them had all the time in the world. 

  devotiune            Crawls...

honestly? gabe would like that.

            Crawls out of the ocean, fingers...

pushes him back in.

          DRAVEN LAUGHS . — It’s a boisterous and almost infuriating sound, and the fact that he had the incentive to add the back of his hand to his forehead in dramatic flair spoke volumes of his identity ( at least on the surface ). The executioner has an axe practically buried into the ground beside him, and he’s leaning on it, balancing just enough so he could do so. Of all the angels that appeared to him, GABRIEL had to be one of his favorites. He looked like such a delicate thing, something people like DRAVEN could just eat up, and yet the angel had such fight to him. It was delicious.

        The former queen had been stalking the halls of her childhood home after all the tourists had left. She knew not why she decided to keep coming back. Those weathered stone walls could talk for ages about the death and pain they had witnessed. And yet, she supposed there had been life, too. The shuffling of tiny feet. Laughter. The twangs produced by unexperienced hands on the lyre. Her children were the first, and last, humans she had ever truly loved. 

She paused in front of a restored portrait of her past life. It was a present from her parents-in-law. It surprised Snow how normal they made her look. She was still pale, but not ghostly. Her lips were still red, but not vampiric. They even managed to morph her countenance into one that displayed sincere happiness, even though she distinctly remembered feeling anything but on her wedding day. 

Her husband, however, looked entirely too stern. The painter changed his appearance, as well. In reality, he had walked about with a smug smirk, triumphing in claiming her as his own. 

Her hands instinctively rose to pull her hood over her face once a voice interrupted her thoughts. However, when she caught sight of the stranger in her peripheral vision, she relaxed. She feared humans more than angels. 

“Yes, and my stomach, too. It was a mistake binding myself to him, but I was still a naïve child then. I thought that if I sacrificed all for the good of my people then they might come to love me.” A wry smile. “As it turns out, that tart face gained their affections more easily than I ever could.”