#featherins

𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒     tear over the tenebrous land,   corpses of the night demons litter the ground at his feet.     He stabs the Jade of Yasakani into another snarling monster,   twists and then pulls the blade from still - warm body fallen to the cold ground with a grunt.     Lustrous gold eyes sweeps over the scene of  mindless carnage,   a sea of night demons covering the earth without rhyme or reason to their formation   —     an observation tumbles from parted lips,     ❛   These demons…   do they have no minds of their own  ?   ❜     Naught a word was uttered in reply to his remark but animalistic growls.     The kijin clicks his tongue.     ❛   This is a  waste of time.   ❜     Every second a treasure he couldn’t afford to lose in vain.

SEND ME A ♬ AND A NUMBER BETWEEN 1-10 AND I’LL PUT MY ITUNES ON SHUFFLE AND SKIP TO THAT NUMBER AND WRITE A STARTER WITH MY FAVORITE LYRIC FROM THAT SONG. [accepting]

@featherins​ said:  ♬ + 6 !!

song result: Once Upon A December - David Newman

Dancing bears Painted wings Things I almost remember. And a song someone sings Once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm. Horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.

In the stillness, she listens, her hands moving like water as they dance along to the music that the goddess plays. She doesn’t move much beyond that, too utterly focused in her memories.

They are not her own, or perhaps, they were, once. Inherited from years and years of celestial upbringing, glowing like embers beneath her skin. For awhile, the wolf just lets her mind wander.

Within those images, she can see the artwork she or another had crafted, of bears who danced with yokai of all sorts, of wings painted along the backs of maidens who descended from the Celestial Plane. Someone sings to her, a melody she had known once, the melody so much like the nursery rhyme her mother would comfort her with as a child. Except, the words have changed.

It’s sadder. Melancholic. A lifetime of memories come and go, of a family who had loved her before she was made an orphan and left at the statue of Amaterasu 20 years ago.

unprompted ask // always accepting !! strums her most annoying, most high - pitched, most obnoxious melody in his vicinity ; this one has neither healing nor protective properties, for it has solely been composed to screech against the ears of the unfortunate one.  ( @featherins​​ )

tranquillity    was    not    a    permanent    guarantee,    not    a    granted    necessity    and    even    less    an    attainable    relic    when    she    was    around    ⸻    it    mattered    not    how    fundamental    it    was    to    him    and    to    those    around    who,    unfortunately,    had    to    endure    the    most    agonizing    moments,    experience    the    most    exasperating    hours    solely    because    she    woke    up    with    the    desire    to    cause    trouble.    golden    spheres,    once    in    repose    and    savouring    the    few    minutes    of    bona    fide    peace,    opened    widely    whilst    muscular    body    tranquillized    by    the    first    seconds    of    deep    sleep,    tensed    ferociously.    he    raised    from    the    mantle    of    grass    [    humid    and    fresh,    albeit    appreciated    for    a    body    naturally    heated    ]    with    ire    boiling    from    within,    gritted    teeth    pinpointing    exactly    what    occurred    inside,    behind    the    bars    of    his    ribcage.    even    his    heartbeat    was    accelerated    by    the    chaotic    performance.

her    name    was    roared:    a    guttural    sound    that    caused    barbarous    earthquakes,    made    trees    quiver    in    fear    and    lean    into    each    other    as    if    they    were    naught    but    lovers    seeking    solace    and    the    opportunity    to    say    their    final    goodbyes.    it    was    then    that    he    slunk    as    if    he    was    part    of    the    shadowy    realm,    heart    cold    and    mind    with    no    room    for    pity    ⸻    he    dined    on    the    fear    of    those    who    witnessed    him    passing    by,    on    the    cold    breeze    that    tried,    in    an    effortless    attempt,    to    cool    his    searing    complexion.    nothing    mattered,    but    the    one    whose    purpose    was    to    ruin    even    the    quietest    nights    given    to    him.