#labelletor

Wanting a change of scenery and a breath of fresh air, Mitsuru decides to check out a book from the library and take it to the cherry blossom trees that bloom on the edge of Cotes Ward, the sight of the pastelled petals quite comforting. While it does remind her of a home she will most likely never return to, it’s nice to know that Spirale shares something with Iwatodai; memories of the trees blooming as school began and the walkway to Gekkoukan High littered with petals nearly distract her from the words on the page, and she shakes her head to -- quite literally -- shake herself out of it. Nostalgia is a double-edged sword, it seems. 

However, now Mitsuru’s attention is diverted; as she looks up she sees a lithe figure gazing up at the trees, flyaway petals getting caught here and there in cascading blonde locks. It’s a beautiful scene playing out before her, almost out of a book like the one resting in her lap -- and it lasts for only a moment longer, before the blonde notices her staring. Though she may be embarrassed Mitsuru doesn’t show it -- and perhaps that’s due to the look in the girl’s blue eyes, more curious than upset. Now that she thinks about it, the sight of cherry blossoms may be foreign to this stranger, as she’s met others that weren’t from Japan here as well...

Dropped for you!

      Francis had always found himself enamored with flowers. Even when he was young, just a territory on his mothers land, he was fond of flowers and beautiful things, the Romans couldn’t change that for him. Nothing could. And even now, he was just as fond of them as ever, even in this strange place.

      You could imagine, he was quite ecstatic when he came across a rose bush, bright and full of life despite the soon turning season, letting the flowers ease his mind and distract him for now. It was lovely, really, and just what his mind needed.

MUSIC MEME. not accepting.

Send “♫” for a song that reminds me of our muses relationship.

    ❝ symphony ❞ — clean bandit feat. zara larsson.

     THIS AGENT OF DEATH, NOW GARBED IN THE SHAPE OF A MAN, haunted the streets without purpose as of late-- before long however, he had been drawn to the sound of song. He found himself in a store, dedicated to musical instruments and their practice, gazing forlornly upon a piano at its heart. It wounded him to see once woken from his nightmare, even with his newfound clarity, for his broken hands could not hope to produce anything so beautiful.

                                                                          ... not anymore, not as he was now.

     His soul wept as he ran a gloved touch along the keys, leather chafing porcelain, and silently, as he took a seat before it, poised, his heart uttered but a word unto his fingers---

                                                     PLAY.

     And so he did, the looming creep of the opening bar calling the attention of everyone present as it reached its peak, crying out. It whispered of sorrows, of tears unshed--- of demons. He played with a fervor, as if losing himself to the moment, to the melody.

i’m dying stop