starter for @unlovc .
absolute and desolate , a silent blanket hovering outside as temperatures had long dropped below zero –– seoul’s winters were unforgivingly harsh and despite the pretty sparkle of eternal quietude , cancelling out all noise beneath it –– did he despise the cold ! always had he found the stark contrast terrible , perhaps mere the only type of beauty he will watch out of a distance , leave it where it is be –– no matter how badly he wanted to stretch holy luminosity over own skin alike dazzling diamonds glow , stand the pain ; if it meant to capture its beauty for just the shutter of the moment . he does nothing of the sort , fantasises , yes ! movement he catches out of the corner of his eye as prior hues must have lost themselves with no particular focus at all ––– what could ever be more satisfying than catching , indulging in beauty ; in anything that he deemed immaculate enough in all of the ways possible . much more than a keeper of gates to an introduction into hedonistic world was he –– a lover of preserving anything that would withstand to crumble within his grip . gaze will drift , watch them move –– he’s still mesmerised by the glimmer that laid there , right in front of them ! temporary illusion , something slipping his imagination , “ anything in pureness that collides with its counterpart – looks so , so wrong . destroys the harmony of the picture , does it not ? wakes demons you would never want to wake . “ , who is the devil to fool –– how often has he quietly , joyfully watched lines of red soaking white masses into their vividly colour , painted a blank canvas with an image of one of its kind ! any of said horrendous creatures to wake long present , a dance of anything macabre ; who said beauty in sin was not the utmost holy to lay gaze on ? who said it was not the trigger to explosive lust of attending such crime ? he does not play with the possible imagination , no , he yearns to experience it again . absolutely in the right is anyone , keeping themselves as farther in distance as physically possible from the red devil and rightfully so , does behind sickly charming , dripping veil hide –– something monstrous , of grand lack of sanity and affinity to anything that may could have been proclaimed hubris ; if male criminal would not actually live up to the cruel , infamous name , an ace of spades in the underworld of crime and even above its surface , well known under the circles of gamblers who played for much more than merely pretty stacks of won bills , to be cautious absolutely mandatory .
hues will yank themselves off the mesmerising landscape and he will yearn to catch the other’s -- seemingly a stranger having joined the ranks in front of the framed depiction with him in quietude and gaze will deviate for a second until returning to the canvas , “ i’m talking about the painting . brügel is famous for his renaissance depictions . ‘ the fall of the rebel angels ‘ -- is it not , indeed rather tragic than triumphant to witness ? i prefer the italian art style much more ! more gracious , grand even ! “ , truly does it pain the saint clad in holiest sin to confess to -- was he not in possession of similar agonising remembrances clouding a rushing mind ? naught to hide nor regret except for the gradual bitterness to be swallowed before poisoning one’s tongue -- sunken had he , in their proclaimed halls of prayer and worship , in deepest resentment between their golden crested pillars in his memory . their grand light of holy rays to spill upon concrete to tremble beneath the feet of a deity . yearned had he -- to become part of such ! to ascend onto a throne worthy of his -- no more ! and within the absence of god -- fearless and in the might of his limitations -- painfully aware and yet , had no place felt and called more for his presence , no energy to match within the spirit of an entity , knowing neither limits nor wordly values of little worth . no ; whom who calls for him , desperate in their mortal wishes and pleas ; there lies no other opposing being as his -- n the halls of past glimmering splendour and submission . he wanders within another realm ; by the constellation of empyrean , neither to echo nor to hold his presence within -- banished , punished with his curse ! much smaller is the frame stood next to him -- a stranger and yet perhaps a companion of empathy , in the hour of sentimental nostalgia to wash over the redhead gradually , tug at his silhouette alike the abyss to follow in the corner of simmering hues to burn and blister . the irony in witnessed symbolism -- and within the male’s very own descriptions remain merely his to stretch simper across features -- veiled within the deceit of all painful , so awfully within the parallels just drawn ! “ in fact -- do i possess a rather famous artwork of said time period ! salvador mundi -- remains in my casino . private , that is ! much more mesmerising -- if you ask me ! “ , simper long stretched into a flashing smile of ivory to gleam within the soft light above both their heads , as the clad sinner swallows a quiet laughter -- curved hand shielding heart - shaped lips as if a confidential , humorous confession shared between him and the stranger of a lady next to him .
