#also those verses were so lovelyyy

[tenebriiis-archived]

@vixtionary​ 

 ~ Carrying the faintest dusting of rust over each epaulet, the General’s coat falls loosely over petite shoulders. Clearly cut out for a much broader back, and yet it is undoubtedly comfortable & warm. The thick fabric lining insulates from the night breeze’s wrath; it has soaked in hints of Jericho’s perfume. One of the many secret pockets woven on the inside seems particularly stuffed; within, several pieces of wrinkled paper have been discarded. How unlike a man as outwardly neat as the Grand General, to have trash left in his coat’s pockets. Unless….? ~

   Solitary fall   Around the corners, hungry cold stone grieves

   Over the years I hunt        The perfect chance   Did your grace offer it freely? Or did I take it for myself?

    You slip between my fingertips   Swiftly as the first kiss mist rain of spring    A fleeting thought

  It leaves the mind swimming in the mist    Scalds the earth on which I yearn                           your touch cut

{ ⟡ } — There’s no lie to offer to her saccharine soul & the tremble of her heart as she curls inside the coat; far too long for the petite silhouette but equally adored in her silent privacy. She’s tenderness & possessiveness intertwined, caressing the fabric as if it was a treasure & losing herself in the scents that conform him  — there are words & ideals she hasn’t told him, for Emilia feels she’s dancing too close to giving him all of her, far beyond what regards merely impassionate nights & playful conversations, shared grounds in their cease of fire & aid offered until the greater devils are taken care of…

With dainty fingertips caressing where Cupid’s arrow had left a wound, she allows herself to breath deeply & memorize it. Selfishly, possessively, endearingly, loving…  —She is profoundly fearing, for only someone had stolen her heart with such precision, long time ago, when she was still a Nymph… the last one touching her iridescent & pearlescent wings before those would become withered petals of a thorned rose…

But she forgets of all melancholy that could dare approach her, as her fingers take the envelopes & carefully assures her body to be covered  —Does she miss his arms surrounding her, shielding her from the freezing winds’ might entering through her balcony? Or does she miss the embrace capable to subtle the maelstrom of her soul, replacing it for his own?

Emilia tries not to give much thought as falling in the comfortable duvets of one of her many rooms of the many states belonging to different identities she had disguised herself as & she feels as a young maiden dreaming with idyllic scenarios that adulthood would eventually destroy… 

A hum of genuine curiosity fills her when the bundle of paper in the inner pocket finds her attention & as her nature was upon finding treasures & retrieving relics, she was now adoring the ideal of stealing one idea or two, or frustrating one of his plans that could be scribbled in the papers since it was ever a saturnine fun to still waltz in this playful manner of rivals turned lovers & still holding the poisoned daggers close, metaphorical or literally speaking,    —yet the words written left her breathless as a rosy hue crowns her porcelain cheeks.

— Poetry; what truly makes life worth living for; & sets fire in her veins —

How she especially adored his poetry, since the endearing game of appearing on his windowsill as an ebony feline, sitting & watching the young lord writing & scribbling verses of his own for the fantasy of a Rose Maiden. The Cat had stopped coming of course; eventually leaving & yet still asking herself if he had continue writing even after becoming the Grand General. A smile does break her facades of serenity up to fleeting glee to know he still did in a way… & that was still directed towards her { despite how much of a prideful & greedy thought it could be } ; it was almost just reassuring to know a man on his situation would still enjoy the pleasure of delicate creation…

🙶 You are just talented as you used to be back then, has your Soul truly yearned me all this time? All those years chasing the mirage? 🙷 Carefully, her fingertips caress the dried ink were words sit, & her mind travels on ideas, attempting to imagine the whole setting in which he had entwined those emotions into beautiful little verses  —Had he written poetry in his office between paperwork in a spark of inspiration, or had it been an attempt in the privacy of his chambers? Tired eyes from work & exhaustion; or perhaps the gaze of a lover? 

— & would his heart; nesting comfortably among the devilish plumage, had beaten so fast, achingly strong & dreamy, as hers does now? —  

🙶 Oh Mon Corbeau, now you have given me yet another reason to invade your office more frequently. What secrets are you still hiding from me~? 🙷 There’s a bit of mischief simply moved by glowing narcissism & an excited heart. There’s nothing she would want to take this time, not even important paperwork & plans scribbled, but the unadulterated desire to know if more of those secret verses could be hidden somewhere & if his talent has still been honed

… Maybe she could also leave rhymes for him in rose-scented stationary, ornamented with gold ink; hidden on his favorite romance novel~

Eventually she would have to return his coat after all { or he would come after it, whatever happened first } ; & the exchange could be done  — but for now, as enjoying more & more of the cozy pleasant sensation of the heavy fabric, that was an endeavor that could still wait until his perfume fades away entirely… for only then she may deemed necessary to give it back.

Solely for her to steal it again once his presence would attach to the strings and cuts once more, enough for her to dream & fall in the fantasy he was there too, silently, as she also yearned his touch cut.

#Sorry for the huge delay on this one too aaaah ;; v ;; #but there ♥ #he would have to either go for his coat or wait an awfully long period until she decides to give it back /only to steal it again later #warm & cozy hidden place with poetry pampering her ego & adoration? ; he may had bought more time without assassination schemes UvU #also those verses were so lovelyyy #thank you for sending this ask UvU ; even if I only hoarded it for long sowwy apdjaopda #Vixtionary #submission