wisteria --- ( WRITING ) ! P/U: PTERO.

[soyano]

NO IT'S TRUE -cry-

[French Vanilla]

... I believe you non-magical-bush lina. <3333

[soyano]

haha.. heart

[Sylira]

heart heart

[French Vanilla]

Plummy Lovelace

Thank you for accepting ;o; heart heart heart

sobbb because I am broke right now, I need the pure... so 2OOK?

CAN WE LIKE... art-fic trade later/soon?

[SoPikachu]

Grats on people who got a slot O:

Guess I should've fleshed out my prompt a bit more >:'

[j i n n i - y i]

..and i missed it gonk

[SoPikachu]

@jinni -pat pat-

[leafeyon]

*u*

/lurk of LOVE

[French Vanilla]

jinnni don't worry.
I think I've finished plummy's order.

// got all inspired

[j i n n i - y i]

SO FAST, SEKI *A*..

SoPikachu ;v;..

[French Vanilla]

@ pikachu:
sob I AM SORRY PIKACHUUUU.
to be honest, OC really tend to inspire me more. ; O ;
but your prompt would have been fun to do. <3
@ jinni:
let me just go over this really quick for glaring errors and
then am going to post it and beg forgiveness from plummy
for butchering her OCs into unimaginable and wretched sights
before I possibly open the slot. OTL;;

[French Vanilla]

Plummy Lovelace

OH OH OH you're open?!

tense and point-of-view up to you!

Subjects: Anything about these guys? - LedahxSkye or LedahxFasis would be preferred but whatever suits your fancy!
More info can be provided if desired.

Payment: 200k for 500 words or if you'd prefer... Art!

oh god I submit myself to you for execution. I have utterly butchered your OCs I am afraid. went a little overboard in word count to make up for lack of quality.

And I am certain that Skye is about a hundred times a better poet. OTL
PLEASE MAKE THE KILL QUICK AND PAINLESS though I deserve worse.
// hides in a hole somewhere

Sometimes she thinks about him. She catches flickers of his voice in the rustle of trees, in the crunch of forest debris underfoot - she thinks she sees strands of cornsilk as familiar and warm as the sun overhead in the corners of her eyes (but no, it is just a finch, just a bird taking flight). It goes against her very nature, thinking of him, but the memories are always there, always lacing her thoughts with their dark, reaching ivy climbers. Ledah never says a word of it to Fasis, never says a word of it to anyone, not even daring to utter the thoughts in her own mind; this is irrationality in its purest form, distilled from chaos and disorder and born from a well of disquiet that slowly drives her to insanity. She does not know why he has turned from her and for too long and too often she returns to this, holding the moment once more in the palm of her hands, brushing, examining, turning each motion and each step over and over until she is sick of the sentiment and sick of herself. The world does not stand still, not even when her granite heart cracks open, and so she must continue.

There are things waiting for her; things waiting for her to see, to do, to hear and speak. Her destiny is accelerating, rushing under her feet, and she almost thinks that she can feel the innocuous movement of the earth as it turns. She will do it all alone if she has to, but Fasis doesn't let her. He reminds her that sometimes an economy of humans is less than reality, that sometimes humans can rise above the calculations of her logic and show her something miraculous. She leans on him more than she wants to.

The moment she realizes it, she takes care to distance herself, to strike out and be once more the temporal and the corporeal - to be permanent and herself.

And thank the heavens for her meticulous mind, for it categorizes and files and tags things with orders of priority and the moment Skye betrays her, her head is buzzing with sounds and colors, buzzing with the hum of mental notes and recollections flying across her inner rooms, rummaging for that one dark place far beyond the surface to bury it all (all the hurt and all the sorrow, all the things that will cripple her and bring her crashing down).

Into that pit of tar and anger she drops the image of his face upturned in contemplation, surrounded by millions of dust particles set aflame by sunshine as his thoughts wander ( "Look, Ledah. They are like stars, like wishes flashing in and out of sight," ); she drops the image of him grinning at her while he recites the first poem he has the courage to share.



( "if we may be for a moment's grace //
of light and laughter and well earned joy //
i would each precious breath - each draw of air oh! so carelessly spent //
i would this moment last till the cogs of my heart do rust " )


Ledah drops the way his eyes, so dark a grey she had thought she could see a storm of thunder on the horizon, crumple and mourn.

Shapes of guilt and regret and love (oh the love is the worst, is the greatest - is the light that shines too bright and blurs all the lines) stand too stark and too richly from his eyes, too much pain and too much him for her to decipher the countless things he is trying to tell her. Skye is made of his words. He crosses chasms and builds bridges with his words. She used to admire that, secretly, in a girlish, forgotten isle of her soul, but Ledah has never been made for words and words have always failed her when she needed them most.

They fail her again and again until too late and not late enough, her fingertips are skimming strokes of ink so carefully penned she can see how his hand must have shaken as it passed over the surface. How the last curl of her name is so warmly scrawled, with a care that numbs her rationale of ice. There is too much here, invested in the feeble inventions of mortal language, too much risked on the cruelty of chance. Skye is made of words and these words are made of him.

The organ of flesh and blood in her ribcage finds that, finally, words have done what nothing else can.

They have carved a sanctuary of hope for it to rest in.

[leafeyon]

djgjsgjsdbdshhd


SO AMAZING SEKI GOSHHHH

how do you do this

[French Vanilla]

sob lute no.
YOUR mini-paragraphs were gorgeousssssss.
// super envies


and when plummy sees this she will probably demand recompense.
OTL