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

[leafeyon]

LOL KAMEE |D <33

AND OMG YOUR AV IS HOT TOO OMG WE ARE BURNIN UP BURNIN UP IN HERE BAYBAYYY


And omgg of course I do, sekiii. *u* /OGLES

[Shiro Nishida]

heart

[mogacola]

lute: Careful, we might burn seki's thread~ 8D
And speaking of which, I like this avi so much I'm making something for it. Though with all the commissions, I just hope I won't get bored by the time I finish this. OTL

seki: OF COURSE BB~ I really like the combo of the items and the colors in general. 8DDD

[French Vanilla]

waaa
then we three together should be the ultimate hot-ness team ~ ?
* u *

[peacecrafting]

French Vanilla

is awesome at writing derp

sent you a quick e-mail earlier ~
|D

[French Vanilla]

mister dictator

sent you a quick e-mail earlier ~
|D

I - I DON'T EVEN

sob

my eyes my eyes
I am not even going to touch this one
too many things I could say
//sigh

[peacecrafting]

> ;D
but danger never lewked so gewd

/shot

i just .. felt second hand embarrassment but anyway.
APPARENTLY VIVACE IS OUT OF PRINT SINCE IT WAS RELEASED A YEAR AGO
/checked yesasia
B|
DERP.
need plan b D8

[French Vanilla]

oh god
OH GOD

please don't ; x ;

WAAA out of print ?
maybe some stores still have it in stock?
//crosses fingers sob

[peacecrafting]

well .. derp, i'm just reading her thread for more lulz.
it's just so ........... LOL ;;;
ffff i sent an e-mail again
|D
this amused me a lot more than it should have

YEAH. D: < OUT OF PRINT!
it's only nine hundred and eighty yen .. D:
like eleven bucks, so i was oohhhhhh - oh ... out of print
D: < SHE IS TOO PRETTY FOR HER OWN GOODDDDD

[French Vanilla]

I am.

...

no comment.
// curls up in a corner and dies laughing

[French Vanilla]

// puts on productive music sigh

[French Vanilla]

I FEEL LONELY ARGHAHAA
//DIES

[French Vanilla]

afternoon alice

hello !

wondering if I could order the 50 lines and 800 words for Paru for 260k * u *;; if not both then the latter for 200k *_* I wanted an adventure or maybe romance themed, but I'm also good with dark LOL idk artistic freedom OTL;; I could draw for you tooo 8D

if you accept, I'd be happy to answer all questions about her cause there is very little information on her !!

sob somehow I strayed so far from your theme ;v ;
well I will try to make a lot of the 50 sentences romance & adventure to make up for it?
OTL ;;

i-if you don't like it I can write you another or something I DON'T KNOW
//feels rusty

She is spiderweb dreams and mercurial eyes, all red hair curling like a war banner in the wind and flitting eyes like ocean secrets. And Paru hated her hair once, the fall of fire that frames her face and hides her fear; a dull ache from a dim past, clouded by grains of time and shapeless cries of a little girl lost in the sand. She remembers it with a distant glance, that rootless place filled with need and keening desperation, and casts it aside.

That little girl is long gone, lost in the sand.

Paru moves across the land like a pale, uncertain pool of wax, lit by other people and other passions, flaring bright against the dark years and spiraling through. She grips sword and heart in hand with the flirt of a wrist and fixes her gaze upon the woman she can be. She dances and dances and leaves no footprints behind, the frail kiss of her footsteps falling into the cracks of the world. That is how she dances - with abandon and twilight in her fingers and resignation in her bones. She dances until the flash of her blade is a mere glimmer next to her beauty and then she dances like the charred wick of a short candle. Grey smoke sighing, colorless tears beading in the cold, she burns only on command.

She called them family once, the ragtag assembly of strangers who took her in and walked her through the days. She called them friends once, the laughing, irrepressible performers who would stage puppet shows for a girl finding her way out of a desert. And then she called them neither. Paru stares at her makeshift captors (she knows that there is more than people keeping her here - she imprisons herself with bars of silver fear and the rust of doubt) and fails to ever find a word for the people outside her cage and the broken bent of her wings.

Hate would be easier, but she can't seem to ever have enough room for it in her heart (not when it echoes a voiceless cry and she wanders in a maze searching for herself). The walls of this world are great and unseen, but she feels them press into her skin like bramble, like cotton in the hollow space of her lungs, like air without breath and breath without air.

They pull back the curtains and she dances wildflowers and empty skies, leaps for the violent suns and the violent horizons of a time when her not-mother took her hand and led her out of nothingness. The planes of her face are arranged in a fierce joy, an untouchable, far off exhilaration that thrills and enchants her viewers. Paru sees none of them, holding the illusion of freedom in the fragile turn of her waist and tilt of her chin. Spaces form between her and the ground, springing in place where ever she lifts her limbs in birdsong and supplication. One day, she thinks with a child's hope, One day.

Small and fair, the tips of her fingers rupture the fine surface of a nameless mountain and that little girl is waiting to be found.

The mountain crumbles into gravel when her dainty lies explode and their ashes speed her wakening. Quiet, sightless eyes carry harbor in their grasp, grace in her awe - she raises her head and stares at the sky, darting from one sound to another. There, the crackling bark of lumber breaking, there, the high whine of horses galloping.

Here, the silent voids where men had stood. Thorns are pulling and wax is spilling and she is the drop of fire from a dying star, and it takes pirates to spill her from her box. Here, the air whispers of salt and memory, and flashes through her electric eyes like a shard of lightning seeding itself there. Paru flies on the ghost of their rumbling roars and restless anarchy, chasing these people who have shown her that some rules are meant to be broken. So she chases and she chases, intent upon doing the one thing she has never done. What is the secret, she wants to ask them. What is the secret to happiness.

Hair flying up around her, she never hesitates anymore, bravely, happily crashing into whatever comes her way. Paru discovers that she likes turtles. In fact, she loves them. At a stall where the pirates stop to sell off their ill-gotten gains, hats become her favorite article of clothing. These are things she never knew about herself and she collects each of them as if they were tiny, sparkling diamonds, and places these pieces carefully into a well in her mind, waiting for the click each time. It's an adventure that draws such richness to her life because suddenly Paru can be delighted by the simplest things - a turtle charm bracelet or an oddly patterned chullo.

The secret to happiness, she thinks, is in looking for it.

[French Vanilla]

heart

[French Vanilla]

♥♥♥