labyrnth

[labyrnth]

lysius‌.

     HE  HUMS  BENEATH  HER  TOUCH,   like  the  low  purr  of  a  leopard,  and  it  chases  away  any  other  sensation  he  could  feel.  even  the  self-stitching  hole  in  his  stomach  feels  like  a  dull  ache,  miles  away,  and  it’s  the  sort  of  effect  that  he  might  have  on  others,  but  that  no  one’s  ever  had  on  him  –  until  she  came  along.  she  cups  his  face  with  a  look  that  was  warm,  real  and  unafraid,  and  there’s  a  tightness  in  his  throat,  an  almost  sad  relief  surging  its  way  up  to  a  half-parted  mouth  and  glossed  eyes,  because  he  had  hoped  and  he  had  waited  so  long  to  be  looked  at  like  this,  to  be  looked  at  by  her,  as  if  there  was  no  one  else  and  nothing  else  that  could  matter. 

     IT  WAS  PARALYZING  TO  SEE  HER  LEAN  INTO  HIM,   as  if  his  heart  had  suddenly  stopped.  the  light  touch  of  her  lips  against  his  was  both  a  pulse  of  life  and   a  seal  of  death,  for  the  sanctity  of  her  kiss  was  now  set  into  the  core  of  his  heart,  made  holy  and  vital,  and  to  ever  find  himself  without  it  would  surely  be  his  end.  he  was  clearly  in  want  of  more  when  she  pulled  from  him,  and  the  lilac  pool  that  now  swirled  and  took  over  the  blue  of  his  irises  was  a  testament  to  this,  as  was  the  gentle,  coaxing  touch   of  his  hand  cradling  her  face  when  her  smile  greeted  his  own.    ❛    ariadne…   i–   ❜   his   words  were  deliciously  stolen  from  him,  as  was  his  breath  by  yet  another  kiss,  far  more  exhilarated  than  the  last.  the  taste  of  her  was  honey-sweet  and  addictive,  transcending  anything  or  anyone  his  mouth  had  ever  touched,  and  he  savors  every  second  and  every  soft  exchange  of  her  breath  as  he  deepens  the  kiss  just  enough  to  show  how  ardently  he  loved  her. 

     HE TASTES OF HONEY-WINE, MINGLED WITH SPICES SHE CANNOT  name and could not begin to describe. He tastes like joy and abandon and freedom, things she had never thought to pursue before she had met him. He pulls her deeper with his lips and his tongue and she opens for him, like a flower bending to the sun to drink in its life-giving rays. She wonders how she could have lived without him before this -- she vows to herself to never live without him again, to never deny herself this sensation of falling and rising and leaping and surrendering and everything she would never, never have wanted had she not been by his side, had it not been at his touch.       Her fingers wend their way to his curls and become tangled; with no direction from her, her grip tightens and she kisses him more deeply, with more of herself than she’s ever given anyone. Eyes closed, she thinks only of him, and the way his mouth feels beneath hers.       Ariadne does not know how long they remain locked together like this. She only knows that she feels something slip into place -- a missing piece of herself that has always been beyond her grasp of understanding has been found.       With great effort, she pulls back and looks down at him, a smile that she is sure will never leave affixed upon her.       “Dionysus ---” she breathes. “I ...”       Her throat tightens. She knows what she has to say. She has only said it once, to her brother, and it meant something different, then. And the words had not proven a talisman against harm. They had been the opposite. Fear grips her, and instead of fighting back she lets it wash across her, through her, away from her. How can she be afraid to say such a simple phrase when Dionysus is looking at her like this?      “I love you.” 

#lysius #lysius004 #ic * #im cryin

[labyrnth]

lysius‌.

     HIS  WITS  WERE  NOT  AS  SHARP  AS  THEY  MIGHT  HAVE  BEEN  OTHERWISE,  but  he  was  still  certain  that  if  he  had  been  dead  or  dreaming,  he  would  have  been  aware.  that  didn’t  make  ariadne’s  approach  any  less  ethereal  to  him,  but  he  welcomed  her  just  the  same,  shifting  as  well  as  he  could  to  accommodate  her  without  granting  too  much  space,  if  only  because  he  craved  her  warmth  and  closeness  like  a  sun-starved  heliotrope. 

     HANDS  ENTWINED AND THE  START  OF  A  SMILE  PLAYING  UPON  HIS LIPS,  it  was  a  comfortable  silence  that  fell  between  them,  but  then  she  caressed  his whole  frame  with  a  gaze  too  complex  for  him  to  define,  mellowed  and  burning  all  at  once,  though  it  was  not  the  sort  of  heat  that  could  be  blamed  on  the  ardent  lash  of  more  carnal  desires. ;  it  was  something  else  entirely,  and  he  flushed  at  the  chance  to  name  it,  but  would  never  dare  to  try. 

     BESIDES, COULD HE EVEN SAY HE’D RECOGNIZE LOVE IN ITS PUREST FORM IF HE SAW IT  when  every  lover  who  had  taken  him  was  nothing  more  than  a  by-product  of  an  enchanted  arrow,  a  ploy  to  deter  his  mission,  or  simply  a  casual  affair  filled  with  transient  sweet  nothings ?  oh,  but  he  was  certain  that  he  felt  it  with  her,  and  even  if  he  had  never  truly  seen  it  nestled  in  another’s  eyes,  looking  at  him plainly  and  unadorned,  there  were  moments  when  he  thought  he’d  caught  its  contours  lurking  behind  hers. 

     HE  COULDN’T  HAVE  BEEN  SURE  THOUGH,  and  after  she  had  retreated  from  him  that  night  when  they’d  first  kissed,  he  made  a  point  not  pry  into  the  padlocked  chambers  of  her  heart  any  further ;  he  wanted  to  be  let  in  willfully  when  she  was  ready,  and  he  wonders,  as  a  warm  kiss  sinks  into  his  skin  and  sends  his  soul  alight,  if  this  was  her  way  of  beckoning  him.  

     FEAR  SEEMED  TO  SNAG  HER  BACK  BEHIND  ITS  WALL,  but  in  her  confession  he  pieced  what  she  truly  meant  to  say,  and  his  grip  on  her  hand  gently  tightened.   ❛    well,  you  can  be  sure  that  i’m  not  leaving  this  world  anytime  soon.  not  so  long  as  you’re  still  in  it,   ❜    he  murmured,    ❛  …  i  can  promise  you  that  and  be  true  to  my  word.  ❜    – –  even  if  they  couldn’t.   

     HIS GRIP TIGHTENS, AND HER BREATH CATCHES;   he is calling her bluff. That foolish kiss she’d just given him, a gift she’s been agonizing over for weeks now, wondering and dreaming and fretting over the placement, the timing, the moment. And all those careful plans had flown from her mind when she’d seen him laying there, in pain, bleeding. And she had acted on instinct (still, even still, she cannot divorce her brain from the action, but there had been more feeling than thought in the action -- there was more of his influence in the action).      But now that she’s given the kiss, now that she’s let her guard slip, it is tempting to let it down entirely. She glances up and meets his eyes, and knows that if there is anyone who she might possibly consider letting into her heart, it is him.       Ariadne hums in acknowledgment of his words. She has a choice. He is waiting for her to make it, she can see that patient desire in his eyes, and she is grateful. She has kept him waiting long enough. It is time to stop thinking.      She pulls her hand from his and reaches up to run her fingers through his curls, down the side of his head, to rest her palm against his cheek. There is another pause, not one of fear or consternation, but only for her to drink him in and catalogue every flicker of emotion and thought that crosses his dear, dear face.      Then there is nothing left to look for, for she has seen in his face all she needs to know that he is hers, and she his.      She wastes no more time. She leans down and presses her lips to his. The first kiss is chaste, a test. She pulls back just far enough to look at his eyes, still careful not to jostle his wound, and then smiles widely, fully, wholly. Her hand slides down his cheek, the side of his neck, alone the curve of his shoulder, and she leans down to kiss him again, this time with certainty.

#lysius #lysius004 #ic *

[labyrnth]

ALL     PEOPLE     are   driven   to   the   point   of   eating   their   gods   after   a   time     ——-     it’s   the   old   greed ,     for   a  plateful   of   outer   space ,     that   craving   for   darkness ,    THE   LUST   to   feel   what   it   does   to   you ,     when   your   teeth   meet   the   divinity ,     in   the   flesh ,     when   you   swallow   it   down .     (     the   unseelie   king ,     by   ashy     )

#promo * #here'S the DeaL I adORE asH

[labyrnth]

You have my permission not to love me. I am a cathedral of dead bolts & I’d rather burn myself down than change the locks.

— Rachel McKibbens, from “letter from my brain to my heart,” blud

#aesthetic *

[labyrnth]

lysius‌.

     WITH EACH WRAP OF THE BANDAGE, HE BREATHES SLOW AND DEEP,         riding out the oscillating waves of pain,     which get easier each time as the herbs do their best to cleanse and numb his wound.         the whole ordeal humbles him,     if only by a morsel,     but it’s ariadne’s diligent care,     her voice of reason which truly brings him out from the haze of heightened emotions and illogical regrets.

    BENEATH HER FINGERTIPS HE FINALLY SETTLES,         his limbs feeling incredibly heavy sinking into the cushions,     and the abated aching grants him the sense to acknowledge his lack of tact.         here he was nearly a century her senior,     and yet he’d let a single failure render him into a carping child,     blinded to the implications of his demise,     not only on his followers,     but evidently,     her as well.         she need not say it for it to be understood.         even in his agony he couldn’t fail to notice her usually precise fingers tremble before grounding themselves again,     or how her sound words were still laced in fret. 

    ❛    YOU’RE RIGHT.   THE ADRENALINE OF WAR MAKES ME FOOLISH,  and my losses even more so,    ❜        he admits softly.     his hand reaches for hers then,     a weak grasp with an even lighter stroke of a thumb across her knuckles.       ❛    thank you for helping me,     ariadne …      those should have been my first and only words to you,     forgive me.   ❜  

     NOW THAT HE BEGINS TO SETTLE, SHE FEELS THE TENSION  in her shoulders relax. Not entirely, she still is ready to jump up and go to work at a moment’s notice or at a flinch of pain from her dear patient, but all the same ---- that calming aura he so often carries with him sinks into her skin and loosens those muscles which had tensed as soon as she’d caught word of his injury.       “It is all right,” she assures him now, her eyes falling to their clasped hands. She gently squeezes his fingers and carefully adjusts herself so that she can recline next to him without jostling him, still holding his hand.. Once she has found a semi-comfortable position, on her side with her head propped up on the heel of her unoccupied hand, she watches him. Every once in a while their eyes meet and she can feel a mixture of heat rising in her cheeks and a crinkling of her eyes at the edges, but then she moves on in her desire to take in every part of him.       She does not eye him hungrily, or worshipfully, not now. She is not a maenad, sharing a couch with her god, nor a stranger, wary & untrusting of such generosity & kindness -- they are between those points, floating absently in empty space with sparks of light & life & feeling to guide them.       They have shared moments of connection, yes, and she has always been too frightened to follow through. But today, when she had seen his wound & been confronted with his mortality, that had frightened her even more. And now in the wake of all those myriad fears, she feels unutterably foolish to have let such minor ones distract her from greater ones.      How could she have thought that cutting herself off from loving him as she wished to would benefit either of them?      With deliberate care, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to his bare shoulder, lingering there for a moment before pulling away. The action, not spontaneous but also uncharacteristic, feels strange and somehow perfect. Though even now those fears she’s harbored for so long threaten her with embarrassment, so she avoids his gaze, instead focusing on their hands, still interlocked.       “I am very glad that you are not more seriously injured.” 

#lysius #lysius004 #ic *

[labyrnth]

i’ve just gotta face up to the fact that i only log onto this blog to reply to @lysius

#i adore paula & i adore our kids & honestly????? THAT'S ENOUGH

[labyrnth]

lysius‌.

      HIS BROW KNOTTED TOGETHER AND PROTESTS WERE SILENCED        for a moment by the sting of herbs and the lady’s command.      how easily she tames the lord of lions,      whether with a smile,      a touch,      or even a harsh word,      she could never be denied for long,      but as much as dionysus tried to relax,      every muscle tensed with pain and an undying restlessness.       ❛   you don’t understand.       ate’s attack was no accident,    ❜       he finally huffed,      but did not dare to move and interrupt ariadne’s tender work.       eyes the color of amethysts avoided her gaze and focused instead on the basin of muddled water,   the sight only adding to his frustration and shame.       ❛   letting the greeks see me suffer like a man is exactly what hera wants.      how do you think it looks when the rest are fighting and not their god ?   ❜ 

     SHE CAN ADDRESS HIS CONCERNS, OR SHE CAN FOCUS  on her work -- she chooses the latter; not having been trained since childhood in the arts of healing, she has since learned what she can from others in the thiasos and from whatever scraps of knowledge they’d been able to scrounge up in the interim. She knows the basics, but she is not a physician. And he is not quite a man, either.      Silence stretches between them as she finishes cleaning and dressing his wound, securing the bandages and making sure they are not too tight, not too loose. Fidgeting fingers fly over the edge of cloth and skin again and again, and she wishes she had some healing touch that might instantly cure him. She’d give her own life’s blood to see him well. But that is not a thing to say out loud, for she knows he will not thank her for the sentiment.       Finally, she leans back on her heels, using the other damp cloth she’d thought to prepare beforehand to wipe her hands off. She studies him for a moment, then reaches forward to brush a curl back from his eyes.       “And how do you think it would look to your followers when their god succumbs to mortal wounds? When he falls on the battlefield and does not get back up? I think they would all prefer your brief absence to your death.”      I would, as well, she doesn’t say. 

#lysius #lysius004 #ic * #:D wow this is FINE :D

[labyrnth]

lysius‌.

       SWEAT BEADED ABOVE THE GOD’S BROW,   a clear sign of his feverish agony,       and yet for the entirety of the journey back to camp,       dionysus refused to be tended.       the maenads knew there was only one person his stubbornness would give way to,       and brought him straight to ariadne.        by then,       the coagulated slices that littered his arms and chest were already stitching themselves together,       but the cause for concern had been the gaping wound in his abdomen,       where ate’s sword had impaled him right through,      and was taking its grueling time to heal. 

       ❛   THIS  REALLY  ISN’T  NECESSARY ,   ❜    he protested with a shaky breath,        even after they had gone and left him lying on the cushions,       earthly red mixed with heavenly gold still leaking from his core.       ❛    all we’re doing is staining your sheets.       let me get akratos.        he’ll change these for you.   ❜ 

     SHE COULD BARELY HEAR ABOVE THE  rapid beating of her heart, thundering in her ears. But it would not have been evident by the look on her face; the firm twist of her mouth, the stern cast of her eyes. She was only betrayed by the slight shaking of her hands as she reached toward the basin of warm water, infused with healing herbs, and wrung out the towel.       “Be quiet, Dionysus,” she cut him off with a harsh word, but her touch was soft as she applied the towel to the wound. “You are not speaking sense, and I shall prove it to you. Firstly, these are not my sheets -- they are yours. I am only borrowing them. Secondly, this is necessary. You are hurt, and no matter whose blood runs in your veins, you must take the time to heal. You are not immortal yet.” 

#lysius #lysius004 #ic * #:'))

[labyrnth]

lola kirke as hailey rutledge in season 3 of mozart in the jungle

#these are LOOKS #lady of the labyrinth * #modern *

[labyrnth]

just figured this out w/ @lysius but modern ari is an architect who co-owns a lot of vineyards with her husband & she’s still very much a goddess &  her fc is  lola kirke    ;)) 

#ooc *

[labyrnth]

like this  if u wanna offer honey & flowers to the goddess or if u wanna plot 

#ooc *

[labyrnth]

one day  i’m gonna actually write up a small bio & put it on my info doc but until then some salient points about my take on ariadne …

- as granddaughter of the titan helios, she has a small degree of prophetic powers, not enough to be considered a prophet or an oracle, but she inherited premonitions which aid her in her inventing / strategizing; she also inherits some of helios’ abilities with growing things, which are not fully realized until she becomes a goddess - as a daughter of a powerful king, she was expected to grow into a demure maiden who could be used as a political bargaining tool … she did not follow expectations – ari was too headstrong, too curious, too rational by far, as a child she always wished to know how things worked, and spent much of her toddling days out in the courtyard playing with clay & twigs, creating little models of the palace or the forts on the shore, and as she grew she spent more & more time watching daedalus in his workshop (who treated her more kindly than her father ever had) - daedalus took her under his wing at an early age and she became something of an apprentice; he taught her about mathematics (geometry, physics, etc.) and about design, and soon enough she was helping him with his work and adding in her own ideas here & there, and once daedalus was tasked with the building of the labyrinth, ari was a key part of its design and development – she knew it nearly as well as its architect - when her brother asterion (also known as the minotaur) was born, she was the only person who felt any sort of bond with him - she loved him dearly, and was with him as often as possible as he grew; she was able to speak to him and calm him, and became his staunchest ally; she was heartbroken when she learned of her father’s plan to shut her brother away in the labyrinth, and she tried to stop it but was unable to - ari visited the labyrinth every day, and as the cult of the minotaur grew upon crete, she became the de facto priestess, delivering the cretans sacrifices of olive oil and honey, lambs, gifts – once her reputation grew, her father minos officially named her high priestess, and she was now safe from a marriage due to the fact that she was consecrated to the labyrinth and its god - when theseus arrived on crete, she immediately sensed a clever mind and a potential ally – she made a deal with him, if he helped her rescue her brother from the labyrinth and guaranteed them both passage off of crete, she would give him all her knowledge on how to escape and whatever she knew of crete’s military might would be his, as well - ari entered the labyrinth alongside theseus in order to find, calm, and lead out her brother asterion - however, in the darkness and confusion and fear, theseus slew asterion, who died in ariadne’s arms - she fled crete, in shock, and was marooned on naxos by theseus - she joins dionysus’ thiasos on naxos and they fall in love, get married, it’s cute okay

#still important ... still need to add it to my google doc ..... let me live

[labyrnth]

lysius‌.

     THE INTENT WAS TO EASE HER TENSION,     but dionysus hadn’t thought of what ariadne’s touch would evoke in him.     mellow pinpricks danced over his skin,     marble turned gooseflesh,     a celestial body elevated by a mortal palm,     so easily molded into his.     then she smiled,     and he felt himself falling,     falling endlessly. 

     ❛     THEN LET ME BE THE FOOL     who shows you.    it’ll be a pleasurable errand for us both,     i can guarantee it.   ❜      the effervescent skip in his heart had him reeling her deeper into the cavern,     hands clasped together like garlands.   he brought her to the brim of the cenote,     wavelets gently reflected moonbeams,     pouring in from eroded cavities on the cavern vault.     ❛    i want you to close yours eyes.     imagine yourself floating in a stagnant pool,     weightless as a feather,    ❜      he crooned,     lifting both her hands to hover just above her waistline.     then the lyre started to play again,     a dulcet sound,     struck with the delicate touch of skipping stones. 

     ❛   EVERY  NOTE  YOU  HEAR  IS  A  RIPPLE  IN  THAT  POOL,      and as it moves,     so do you,     in the same pace,     the same shape.    ❜     he guided her hands to sway her body in mimetic motion,     following the underlying beat.      ❛   —-   can you feel it ?   ❜

     THE LOOK IN HIS EYES WHEN SHE TOOK HIS HAND  made her heart skip. Again, she was flustered by the sensations he evoked, being so near, looking as he did in the moonlight. The knowledge that they were alone did not frighten her as it had in the beginning, when she’d first joined his band of revelers and rebels. Then, she’d never quite been able to let go of that small voice which reminded her that he was a god and she a mortal maiden, and that being alone with him would spell doom. Now, she craved his presence. Just being beside him filled her heart with such all-encompassing joy that she could barely stand to live without it.       And to touch him? Even as casually as this? She felt her chest fluttering and fanning into flames.       But she contained herself, tamping down those feelings before they could escape through her eyes and make her look foolish.      He led her to the edge of pool, and she followed willingly, though not exactly meekly. She gave him a skeptical look, not losing the smile but not retaining it fully, either. And when he asked her to close her eyes, she pursed her lips and was on the verge of denying him, but then thought better of it.       She’d just told him that she trusted him. Of course, she could let that sentiment last more than two minutes.      “All right,” she allowed, letting her eyes drift shut. He lifted her hands just above her waist and she did her best to do as he asked. She envisioned that pool beside them, quiet and calm, and herself floating in the center of it. Drifting to the left, to the right, to the left, to the right, as his words echoed in her mind and guided her gently downward.      The notes from the lyre accompanied his words, and soon they filled her head. She hummed along, though she didn’t know the tune, and felt her heartbeat slow to keep time with the melody.       “I feel it,” she answered. “And now what, Dionysus?” 

#lysius #lysius003 #ic * #i toLD U i'd reply to dAY aND I DID and it's SOFT

[labyrnth]

Margaret Atwood, Morning in the Burned House

#aesthetic *

[labyrnth]

Dior | Spring/Summer 2020 Couture

#aesthetic * #goddess of Snakes babEY

[labyrnth]

lysius‌.

     ❛   AN ILL-EQUIPPED VESSEL ?  IS THAT WHAT THEY TOLD YOU ?    ❜      it saddened him and angered him all at once to think how severely her father and his surrounding court must have conditioned her to be still,     to be quiet,     to be anything other than what she wanted to be.     he knew shame and guilt lodged themselves inside the hearts of scourged women like parasites,     and most would never realize how often that parasite dictated everything that they did.     the proof was there,     in the way ariadne wanted to reach for him,     and then immediately retreated     as if she had been burned.      no one was here to mock her,     punish her,     nor tell her what to do,     and yet she still couldn’t stand out of her own way.

    ❛   IT’S COMPLETE NONSENSE,  YOU KNOW.   everything we do requires movement,      and every instinct propels us to move in accordance to what we’re sensing.      that’s why dancing isn’t something you learn …  ❜        a knuckle gently lifted her chin,     coaxing her to look up at him again,     as if the words that followed would be the most important thing she’d ever hear.      ❛   it’s something you let back in –  an innate desire to marry your spirit and body again and let it mirror what you hear and feel,     move how it wishes to move,     say what it wishes to say.      you need only learn to ignore all else,     and i can show you how.   ❜        again,      the god offered her his open palm,     tinged with the subtle glow of ataraxia,      a calming breath before a cliff dive encompassed into a single touch.        ❛   do you trust me ?   ❜

     SHE WANTED TO BLUSH AGAIN AT THE QUESTION  he posed, the insinuation that the idea she was not meant for such things as dancing, or reveling, or any such activities that might befit other princesses, less strange daughters of kings and titans. She knew what she was -- and she had no illusions about her own strengths. Her weaknesses. Her faults. If her father had looked sternly at her when she tried to act out, or if her mother had warned her to stay still, be quiet, when she had tried to join in the Cretan festivities as a child, it was not their fault that now, as an adult, she still did not take part. It was a woman’s reasoning, a woman’s logic, that led her to keep her distance.       She knew what she was.       But he kept on talking, and when he lifted her face she found herself caught by the look in his eyes. It was a look that gazed upon her more kindly than any she’d known besides the Inventor’s, besides her brother’s, and there was something else there, too. Something that made her heart skip and her breath catch. She did not even feel the loss of his hand, her eyes were so trained upon his.       The words he spun for her were tempting. Ariadne wanted desperately to accept the offer, but the guardhouse of her mind was keeping her in check. It was only when he asked the simple question of trust that she felt her guard slip.       She looked down at his hand, and noticed the glow of something godly. What was he offering her? The madness of the Maenads? The ecstasy of the thiasos?       Her eyes met his again, and she knew that he would not do such a thing to her. She knew that Dionysus had learned her, as much of her as she’d let him see, and she knew his kindness. He would not pull her into a frenzy when she did not wish it. But this was something less structured than she was used to. It was an offer of release.       “I do trust you,” she answered softly, and took his hand.       The glow seeped into her skin, ran up her arm, suffused her body with the familiar warmth of the sun on a spring day. Calming, lovely, beautiful light. She breathed deeply and felt her muscles relax, her mind loosen just a touch.      Ariadne smiled at him.      “I still do not know how to dance,” she said with the hint of a laugh. “I still think this is a fool’s errand.” 

#lysius #lysius003 #ic * #im sCReaMING

[labyrnth]

zireeael‌.

   “     and   then                the   spell   will   be   broken.      the  princess  will  walk  out  of  the  tower.   everything  will  be  okay.   i  know  it  will.   ”

     ARIADNE SMILED AT THE GIRL, AND HANDED  her the large woven blanket with a gentle hum of acknowledgement. It was not unheard of to receive young visitors to their camps, for often the young would run away from home, and this war-torn land made many orphans. But there had been something about this child which had drawn Ariadne to her, compelled Ariadne to grant her special care.       A gift that was in her blood, these premonitions, these hints to the twists of fate, were important. She tried not to ignore them.      “It is a mighty princess who can break such a spell on her own,” Ariadne said in reply, sitting down next to the girl and pulling a few pillows up around her to continue building this makeshift next. “Even princesses need help, don’t they?”

#zireeael #zireeael001 #ic * #witcher verse * #hey ily