𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒 of history pinned to crumbling walls ; traced by fingertips in order to preserve , to prevail in winds strong enough to sweep away ships out to see . there is longing in these bones still - no matter how many monsoons came with the intention to wipe it away . THE HUNGRY WILL PREVAIL . with clever mind and clouded hearts , but by God , prevail they shall . room is dimly lit , flicker of candles enough to make shadows dance among the darkness , yet not enough to properly estimate how much blood there is lingering ‘pon sleeves of the good doctor . blood and dirt have a tendency to seem similar in low light after all .
❝ rigged fight ? or simple unfortunate luck ? ❞ songbird with clipped wings rises from seat in the corner , smiles alike scheming cat / does not delight in the art of twirling skirts like sisters , nothing but a ghost of past dreams and future longing . ETERNAL , EVEN IN TWISTED WORRY . hand outstretched , palm towards the roof above , flex of fingers a silent request to come . ❝ let me clean that up for you , sir . ❞
@pasthauntings / didn’t ask for this but is getting it anyway ( for howell because well now you got me thinking about them ! )