Though I Thought It Would Fit For This Interaction - Blog Posts

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐃 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐋𝐘.    when the heavens laughed, the hysteria would thrust its cosmic authority underneath the skin like a stubborn malady.  you sought out the moon, coldly engaged in her distant waltz, and like typhon, you sought her out as prey to crack open that which shall entrap you inside its very cells.  this must be a mere star-riddled jest, a divine comedy akin to a dream from which you and her shall waken, but it came closer to a puppet-play rendered by and for one sadistic observer who wanted to see them flail, limp to the ground, and then tried the scenario the other way around.

she flickered like a temporary gleam upon glass, a specter woven of celestial taint, every peeking gaze was a glimpse of yours, a steady mimicry of motion locking symmetrically into you.  where the light shone, therein fell the shadow, and she was one of bleached darkness.  the inverse of death was the birth of something apocalyptic, the fear of it.  the fear of birth was a fear of someone’s arrival.  they repurposed you to an antichrist within messiah flesh, a repetition of history, replay of a replay. a cycle that shan’t ever break in two.  from your ankles she then squirmed loose, asymmetrical fleck struggling across dirtying rock, composing her ragged breaths.  the inverse shadow would still hold onto more shadows, the host urging to get rid of her.

a body could not be without the casting of its contour, so what would occur upon the law-breaking success of such amputation ?  the collapse of an atom ?  the erasure of information which could usually not be erased ?  she did not plan to allow these impossibilities to become phenomena, not without efforts made with blood and tears and sweat.  “ noctis, please, listen to me ! ”  she called upon you when you called upon her.  although she stumbled back up warily, within cyan there sparked some irrational hope, some desperate venture for a dying light. when the heavens laughed, the hysteria stringed two puppets into their play and surrounded them with night-bred daimons who blended their hell into the stage. // @royalarms

WRETCHED ARE THE KINGS THAT SERVE DARKNESS FROM THEIR HAUNTING TONGUES . he's traveled so far on his lonesome , his only company : the ghastly words that cut through his mind & the lead of the snow - white messenger that blinds him in the darkness , the north star that beckons him unto the moon . there is an ever - looming presence of pain that taunts him from his every joint , & every wear at his muscles . it feels heavy , like its seeping through his flesh & corrupting him from the inside , just waiting to reach his veins in crooked efforts toward inevitable possession .

. . . [ luna . ]

he battles these ' thoughts ' on a near - constant basis , beckoning them toward the light of his soul so that they may be washed away with it . the battles are ceaseless , however , & one man can only endure for so long . at times , they have their way with him , all - consumed , & he plays the role of their vessel . a puppet strung to their fucked up marionette .

. . . [ luna . ]

even now , he follows pryna's guide as she warps into something threatening , something evil , & he strives so hard to dismiss the awry transformation , but it the ability to do so seems so far away from him . everything feels so real . this false illusion of existence , a reality warped in the throes of nightfall . their rage lights a flame , crimson , beneath his eyes , irises glowing through the dimness of their surroundings & his only goal [ luna ] distorts into something monstrous .

' i have to get to . . . '

& he looks down to see a girl in white , defending herself . against . . . who ? . . . him ? shit . . . dusk has fallen & his scream tears through the atmosphere .

. . . ❛ LUNA ! ❜

@moonichor