#` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth.

[sunlessea]

MR M.IRRORS & MR W.INES ♡

it's my birthday todAAAY AND LOOK WHAT @londonfallen DREW FOR ME 😭😭 I'M SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM I'M SO AVERAGE

#` ✞ mr wines. ⁞ i was more than just a party girl‚ i'm so far gone. #` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth. #` ✞ portraiture. ⁞ the beguiling subjects of london times. #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #BANGS HANDS ON TABLE AAAAAAAAAAAAA #KEJRNHMKJERHMKEJRNHKN

[sunlessea]

"our welcome is overstayed, we are certain. the others will have noticed our absence, in the time that has passed." it huffs, weaving itself from the entanglement of mirrors' body where it moves to sit up abruptly, pulling at mussed locks of red to hurriedly push them up into something of a ponytail, until it can cover itself. its cloak is abandoned elsewhere, and it's sure too would what's left of its clothing be... "we ... should go."

@londonfallen / mr mirrors.

#here u go smth less feral #make it sap gay michael i believe in u #londonfallen #` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth. #` ✞ mr wines. ⁞ i was more than just a party girl‚ i'm so far gone.

[sunlessea]

there's never anything good to come from it, when it shows up in place of another master. it hardly steps out of its niche, content to play the role of debauched and pretty and desirable and nothing more than that. all its hoarded wineries kept to itself and each intricately lecherous relationship it'd built up with its peers among the masters were enough to satiate it's waning interest in even being alive ... so when the master of wines makes a willing appearance, it is hardly something to celebrate, despite what the improper populace of london itself may believe. this is such a case where its appearance is even more confusing, and every bit more a threat.

whatever its intentions, they certainly aren't so sweet as the scent of strawberries and honey that follow in its wake. it hums as it looks at the chains and barely recognizable husk of an ally once betrayed attached to them, reaching up to peel the hood of its silken cloaks from its head. fluffed ears twitched with the disgust of the sight. how the mighty have fallen! it's a sight a touch too familiar.

"mr mirrors! how scandalous, it has been sooo long." there's distinct mockery in its chipper tone, as if its appearance alone weren't indicative enough that this is not a pleasant social call. it is the first master to seek out their lost comrade since its imprisonment, it's sure. what a sorry sight it finds mirrors in, ragged on the floor like a broken corpse. its own fall hadn't even been this pathetic. its heels click 'gainst the floor as it approaches it against the haze, bare legs decorated with red stockings peeking out 'neath the cloak's fabric with each step. it, for its part, had not changed at all. beautiful, lewd, an absolute dream, with a nightmare heart deludedly beating underneath it all. what a difference it makes, to be able to play pretend. "aww, sweetheart. you look positively vile."

@londonfallen / mr mirrors

#` ✞ mr wines. ⁞ i was more than just a party girl‚ i'm so far gone. #` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth. #londonfallen #` ✞ queue. ⁞ you are not the reckoning.

[sunlessea]

have you noticed the way i stare at you? — mirrorswines

inbox cleaning / @londonfallen

if the masters held a form of blasphemy in their beliefs such as the kine often do, then it would be in the very ideology of their joining : any two of them, specifically. beyond matters of sensual indulgence, they do not cross boundaries of attachment to one-another, and it is for the best that this stance is taken, whether what pages hails to be true of their hearts (or lack thereof) were honest or damnable. they all had witnessed, after all, what had happened when those boundaries were crossed 'tween their kind, now buried deep 'neath uneasy waters, far beyond even the sun's reach...

mirrors' claw seeks its own in a gesture so hushed that even had they the attention of anyone among the revelry, they'd not likely have been noticed. their cloaks fall over their hands just as well as the rest of their figure, and 'neath the silken red fabric, mirrors presses to lace its fingers through its own. wines pretends not to notice, slouched back 'gainst dainty seating with its head tilted up towards the ceiling. it almost concedes to make quite a lewd comment, well wishes that it were sneaking its hand 'tween its thighs rather than its fingers. but they both know that even if the sentiment were true to some degree, it's also just a mask, no matter how much it enjoys clouding its head with lust to forget its own miseries.

"we've not the slightest clue what you are talking about," they murmur in shockingly coherent response. they'd been slurring and stumbling only moments before among dancing, sinning ladies of the night in their bright red stockings prior to resting in its company. it is either remarkably quick at its recovery, or it had been feigning. "were you watching us dance, mr mirrors?" their head lulls to the side, eyes glinting bright where they peak out 'neath its cloaked hood. it only allows itself be seen, because it knows precisely who is looking back. a dangerous affair, this. pages would rip their throats from their necks, if it noticed 'the way mirrors stares at it'. what a romantic way that would be, to die. "are you jealous, little song?"

#londonfallen #` ✞ mr wines. ⁞ i was more than just a party girl‚ i'm so far gone. #` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth.

[sunlessea]

🎁 + 29 for mirrorswines ??? :')

in the cover of london's false night, where gaslights only dim and never darken, wines has done more than enough to set alert the suspicions of its fellow masters of the bazaar. they've been glaring at it more pointedly, asking in hushed hiss where it would be going with business meetings and soiree's cut short, each more egregious than the last : veils and hearts and fires and spices, all gnawing at its heel in equal parts wariness and offense. half it had spurned the advances of before their hearts had been turned elsewhere, some still actively yet.

the truth would set ablaze their tempers, it knows. its fingers sprawl 'cross the collar of a master most heinously forgotten where it pushes them down, slowly, to lay on its back under it. wines shifts itself so its knees press on either side of its ribs after, settling to sit atop its chest. devoid of its cloak, only adorned in the elaborate lingerie and stockings its clan oft preferred to practical dress, it can feel where mirrors' fingers brush excitedly up its thighs.

wines thinks it might just enjoy the closeness, whether it be chaste or suggestive or otherwise.

its lips quirk.

"oh, iubirea mea..." it purrs, letting its hand trail down from the other bat's chest in favor of moving up theirs. "we shall let you feed again today if you want us." it reaches for the clasp 'tween its breasts, holding its bralette together, and unsnaps it. it does not slide it off just yet, however, and so immodest an image does it make. it's inherently risqué in presentation ... but it truly doesn't want blood on its finer clothes. "if you desire it, we will light a candle for you as well, before we present our blood. do you desire this, vasilicâ? it has been long since you last blushed..."

@londonfallen / spotify wrapped starters, war of hearts.

#londonfallen #write mirrorswines w/o it being incredibly suggestive challenge except i can't bc it's wines and mirrors #iKLJMREHLKJEMRHKJM #WHATEVER #suggestive ― #not n.//s///f/w/ tho ! #just u know ! wines being wines #i went w vibes over literal lyrics #` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth. #` ✞ mr wines. ⁞ i was more than just a party girl‚ i'm so far gone.

[sunlessea]

ship tag drops for threads oml /

#` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth. #` ✞ fires & elysium. ⁞ the bitterness of winter and the sweetness of spring‚ we are poets and our story is our masterpiece. #` ✞ abel & pages. ⁞ your darkness will be rewritten into a work of fiction‚ as you pull on every ribbon. #` ✞ candles & odette. ⁞ i brought you daffodils in a pretty string‚ but they won't flower like they did last spring. #` ✞ shrouds & moriarty. ⁞ like a river flows surely to the zee‚ so it goes‚ some things are meant to be. #` ✞ hearts & witness. ⁞ why have you been fearing an aching that will fade? must the sun have reason to make the seasons change? #` ✞ malachite & mare. ⁞ i dream of love as time runs through my hands‚ these dreams that tie two hearts that will never die. #` ✞ applebright & aristos. ⁞ they warned him‚ don't go there‚ there's godless creatures who would lure him into the dark.

[sunlessea]

it is melancholy. cold. distant. nothing like it was in parabola, at least not always, not when it stops pretending. mr wines, the belle of london's ball, truly is the most morose of bazaarian masters, with its mascara and blood stained cheeks, smudged lipstick and drugged blood. it keeps even the one which seeks its dead, delusional heart at arm's length, or rather leg's, where its delicate foot is pressed 'gainst mirrors' chest to stop it from crawling on top of it. it'd noticed, the moment its bedfellow had made move to climb on top of it for reasons far less scandalous than wines' reputation would suggest. they want to comfort it. it does not wish for their comfort.

"we dream of dying, and of our relief," its arm falls over the edge of its mussed bed, ashes falling like ember from its lit pipe. nothing at all like the party girl london adored it for, all wit and charm, even at its worst. its pain runs deep, and beyond what the other masters can understand. they would not care, even if they could. the weight of a universe, on its shoulders. not one thriving, but one lost. "we think we should have taken HIS place. we should have volunteered."

it is so very tired. exhausted. heartless, soulless, just like the kindred kine rumor them to be. empty.

"we want to go somewhere that none of you can follow. not even HIM."

@londonfallen / mr mirrors

#just bc this blog is open 2 the public doesn't mean i won't torture u 24/7 #londonfallen #then i'll finish cultists & londoners #` ✞ mr wines. ⁞ i was more than just a party girl‚ i'm so far gone. #` ✞ mirrors & wines. ⁞ i'm your little scarlet‚ harlot‚ singin' in the garden‚ kiss me on my open mouth. #drugs tw — #suicide tw —