#nimbles

              it’s nights like these she feels the most lonely. her heart does not beat, she is not alive, but genevieve finds herself longing for companionship in a world that has been cruel to her. there are many reasons why she isolates herself in her poppy house, why she became a recluse after rose’s brutal death. she had nothing and no one - except for frederick. where most nights, genevieve would remain at the lounge and brothel, tonight, she needed a friend. a confidant. someone she trusted and knew she didn’t need to be weary of. with the hood of her cloak pulled over her long, raven hair, genevieve traveled in the moonlight to the man’s home, knocking quietly against his door, giving him a furrowed browed stare, her lilac eyes nearly glowing from the night’s illumination.  ‘ i am sorry to disturb you, i know it is late... ’  she slowly removes her hood so he can take a better look at her saddened features.  ‘ i needed someone to talk to, ’      @nimbles.

              ‘ i’m fearful that my family is close to finding me here, ’  genevieve murmurs over the crystal glasses, slumping beside thaddeus on one of the many suade sofas which littered the opium den. golden eyes ran across the wave of humans, envying them and their short life span. perhaps it would be easier to succumb to her parents, allow them to bring her home for her execution. that seemed better than living such a lonely life. geneveieve drinks, licking the red liquid from her lips shortly after.  ‘ perhaps that would not be such a bad thing, ’     @nimbles.