#viperwrought

     She can’t help chuckling at the sheer number of adjectives, spoken with such aversion to the concept of the soft comment. “Poetry holds an incredible power of its own.” Alice points out gently.

    “Oh, it’s rare to see these,” he mumbled to himself as he walked into the shop of the so called witch. He had been low on herbs that weren’t found easily in the forests. And even though he did prefer finding it himself, sometimes it was easy to buy dried herbs from someone who knew magic well, as he could easily sense all around the shop. 

Send “✒” and my muse will tell yours the story behind one of their scars.

                                Accepting: You are an Asshole, but you are My asshole. 

                                                              Verse: Wolf Inside

                                                                 @viperwrought

The phrase ‘TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS’ doesn’t exist, sometimes the wound heals but TIME never comes. So you slowly get used to seeing the scars, until one day you are sitting with the person you love laughing and enjoying life, but TIME never came. So your sitting there laughing right and then the air changes, and you feel it coming in your gut like a EARTH QUAKE only you can feel. So you brace your self for it, for the question you knew was going to come one day because TIME didn’t. 

So you’re sitting there bracing your self against a door that should never be opened and you really wanna open it now because why not? TIME never came and it’s like ripping off a god damn bandaid. But you know what TIME does then? TIME is a dick, like that one kid in school that CONSTANTLY bothered you but you didn’t do anything about it because you where nice, yeah TIME is like him, and it stops. TIME stops and stares at you with a wide joker like smirk as if telling you. ‘I never healed your wounds, but I’ll freeze the world to make you feel the knife marks all over again.’ 

So there you are with your love of your life and you sit there, toying with your hair like that is your rosary and you’re not coming out alive. Then you speak, TIME stood still, TIME was a dick, TIME is now going to heal your wounds. 

Or maybe it’s the person in front of you, the soft touch to your arm, like you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want you, but you do, you do so bad that you are white knuckling that rosary and you choke down air like you are dying. So you talk and TIME, god damn tricky TIME act’s like your fucking friend and fast forwards, like that button on your remote. Then it’s over and you feel lighter. TIME was a dick, but it had its purpose in healing your wounds. So you rewind and play it from the part again where you talked, and suddenly, TIME is staring at you with love and so is the person in front of you. And for once you aren’t scared to open that door. 

❛  i-i ... ‘m tired ...  ❜  they’ve been running for god knows how long, and his bare feet are tired, burning, bleeding from their flight against pavement and gravel. the cloak around his shoulders is ragged, but hides the monochromatic stripes of the prison suit; the shackles around his neck and arms, broken and left in his cell, only leave their purpled marks upon caramel skin.   ❛  ... t-they’re not chasing us, anymore ..  ❜  

The smell of old books ambushes Aoko as they enter. Magic && wonder twinkle in their once-sullen eyes,. A wall cloaked with vines calls for their name. Little did Aoko notice someone else interested...right in front of them. Their nose slams into the other’s back. Dust lifts from the ground beneath from the minor collision.  “Eh—” not like Aoko could complain. it’s their fault, after all. Whoever it looks vaguely familiar once they’ve turned around. Huh.