hxphaestus
“Sweetheart, come sit.” She pats the spare seat next to her, tucking into the slice of toast made moments earlier. “You need something to eat, you look like you ain’t eaten in days. Let your Ma make you breakfast.”
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hxphaestus
“Sweetheart, come sit.” She pats the spare seat next to her, tucking into the slice of toast made moments earlier. “You need something to eat, you look like you ain’t eaten in days. Let your Ma make you breakfast.”

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MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Yes baby momma’s here
I did some art. I’ve been wanted to increase my face variations in my profiles and using your muses was just the ticket. i hope these aren’t to bad ;w;
xxthekinginyellowxx
hxphaestus
herbertofarkham
ghoulishundertakings
bogisms
manxrslave
dreamsofdrowning
intellectandwill
The Dance is a Epicureanism
hxphaestus
He watches the rain fall down on this low, dark, lonely city. it is over grown with people, like a garden over flowing with a population of weeds as if the city was under kept by a poor owner who simply grew tired of his hobby then moved onto other things. The city needed a cleansing, a plague, but no, this was not his doing. He had not brought such a dark fate down onto this appalling accumulation of corruption.
He had stood back and simply watched, though his followers grew little and few. many had stopped visiting the markers around the city, left for him in his name. Beautiful yellow spirals carved into stone walls under bridges deep within a sewer or in a cold deep basement, they always out of sight and out of the public eye. Perhaps the plague had taken those precious followers, or gave them fear of leaving the assumed safety that were their homes. Homes no more, they were trapped, or dying, consumed by the city.
Now the man in the neatly kept suit, with a yellow broach walked down the hallway, there was a dance to attend to after all. It was amusing, like a slow funeral. How could the hierarchy have such a lavish display of power in times of crisis such as this when the poor suffered by the thousands? He carries himself high, with pride but not above those below him, and so many here are indeed below him.