hello! can i place a reserve for abe no seimei from onmyoji? today is 9/27 and you can either find me here @vitiae or my discord 拍手!!!#9278
Reserved for you!
– mod maia
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hello! can i place a reserve for abe no seimei from onmyoji? today is 9/27 and you can either find me here @vitiae or my discord 拍手!!!#9278
Reserved for you!
– mod maia

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-ˏˋ @vitiae / sc
She was lost, in a strange country. In a place that was not her home. She had traveled here over the water; it had taken weeks but Peach was eager to explore. She had received strange looks from the natives of this land but it didn’t entirely bother her. She would have stared at someone if they looked different from her too.
The forest was dense, twigs tore at her dress. She didn’t know where she was or where the nearest town was and she was beginning to feel frightened. A sound and alarm filled the princess.
❛ Is someone there ? ❜ Her Japanese was shaky at best but she was understandable.
wash !!!!
[ NONVERBAL MEME ]: @vitiae.
fickle is how her attention shifts. something that dresses her skin up pretty, a wide ranged whisper heard in breaths. & she’s not so much a terrible thing as she is a thing made by all else. / a creature crafted by the hands of nature : anything but unnatural. a smile, crossed vexation that becomes mischievous vibrancy. & under the fiery bile, there is a too -- sweetness filling the back of her throat, a bite of laughter that seems just as vague as her underlying purpose. mother’s hands, father’s guilt, a brother’s responsibility --- one of these things CANNOT be the others, & what interrupts this discourse is the huffing of atmosphere that creates in her lungs. it lingers in her breath, a corpse hanging in the shade : what is she to the rest of the world ? ( but a feminine mystery, veiled in suspicion that comes with the coated giggles gripping at her tongue, pulling from parted lips ; it becomes her. / the otherworldly -- ness. ). her hands reach, & they rest just before him before thumb presses to the tainted skin. ❛ you’ve made your face dirty. ❜
it is never a scold. never has anything so firm formed from her lips --- it’d be more accurate to call her an essence that person ( the host becomes the hosted : the hosted becomes nothing : & she ? she becomes all else. ). her hands do not make quick work, but they are quick enough. tips of fair flesh but a flickering starlight, & she tsks in her own example, rubbing the dirt that transfers from his skin onto hers ; & she is making a fuss of nothing, any would think. for there is none of annoyance, agitation unable crossing her face --- she’s smiling ! what of amusement caresses her flesh, a mastery of fondness favorited biting at her expression. & SHE IS A TERRIBLE THING. she means to be, without purpose is the horribleness in the way she finds point of blankness, an existence calling her. ❛ do you do this to simply charm me ? ❜ kittenishly holding in breath in carried exaltation, eyes just a thing not feral & not tamed. her hands on your face seem like a dream : you, stuck frozen under her touch, an entertainment. her, a creature made to entertain herself.
❛ because even i’m not quite sure if it works well enough. ❜ this statement is implied enough to find laughter that doesn’t leave her. a damped cloth, her own hands, & she’s cleansing the dirt from another creature --- she finds her own goal.