chaosheart13

The frost dusting the ground continued to whirl about as Etia danced among them, sashaying among the leaves while leaving a trail of frost in her wake. Already the ice dancing before her, she felt the wonder and it was oh so nice as she let out wails that shook the soul. The forest, her home, even now, she loved it, haunting it like a ghost as her smoke trailed past her, twisting and intertwining with her sleeve as she continued to twirl and whirl in ecstasy. A graceful dance, do you like it? Even now, her call, do you like it? Her voice echoing into the distance, do you like it? She wanted to dance and dance forever as she continued to fall amongst the shadowed canopies and glimmering lights in the distance. Already, the others, hanging their lamps and praying quietly as they celebrated a holiday falling out of tradition. Already, that advancement, how interesting, to see them stop praying and instead share amongst each other. …It was nice, she loved it. Even now… The sound of a

“Already, a fight? I can sense her fear,” Broken_Bird chuckled as he just floated lazily while staring at Cerberus and Helena, hands holding the back of his head with a serene smile on his face. His tail swished excitedly at the mess as he heard another friend of his chuckle. “Even now, a game? They’re certainly going to have fun, my my, even now, she wants to lash out, no?” Discordant_Harmony giggled while he floated behind Bird and took his hands in his, snuggling against his face, “Even now, you want in. Even now. …Shall we dance~?” “A dance, a dance, oh how I would love to dance!” Haibane crowed as she floated around excitedly, swirling and swirling in place before dropping and glitching out, “Even now, a dance, a dance, let me dance! A broken thing to be poked and picked at, let me dance, let me dance, let me dance!” “I guess I have to be the calm one, no?” Prideful_Marshal giggled as she floated back, keeping a tight hold on her chakram as she twirled it in her hand. Already

A void where one cannot feel Swallowing and swallowing whole What are emotions When you feel nothing but Flatness in an ever expansive space? That flatness The nothingness Already I can point out wonderful words That are fake Sickly sweet fakery Yet somehow true I want to feel These words help me feel Intensity in the chest Too strong, too strong, I cry But this void How right it is The flatness to keep everything in check The unfeeling heart that won’t know what love is What happiness is What sorrow is What anger is Let it hug those that want to understand What it’s like to not feel Alexithymia Come here And let me hug it

A thorny castle in the middle of nowhere, the tower going to the heavens as the queen watches and waits with narrowed eyes. Already those thorns grow ever thicker, the roses scattering their petals and driving out the weeds. Weeds have no place in the garden of thorns and the queen delicately plucks them one by one as she watches and makes concoctions with them. Little rose concoctions, alchemized to sound, the voice speaks and already the roses hum with power. The scattered petals, already reaching out, she sends the concoctions out into the ocean and watches them bob as they go on their way to destinations unknown. Already, those petals, let it scatter more. A man takes it in hand after sending off a bottle and uncorks it, sniffs the concoction, gets taken by its sent as he dreams and dreams of the queen who made the small rose essence. Another man, one without roses in his hood and dancing forever in the twilight, finds in glistening on the beach as he uncorks it and takes a deep

let me turn back time go back go back go back everyone already dying before mine eyes go back go back go back i want to move forward but backward? which way which way do I turn as I turn and turn with the gears of fate go back go back go back i want to go back the gears turning fate moving already the ticking clock it speaks it speaks it speaks i want to go back back to when I was innocent an innocent girl? how stupid how stupid of me to go back and try to fix things this girl this girl who is she to think she’s the world when she’s unknowing of the fates around her? who is she to think she’s the world when she doesn’t even know I am protecting her? I who can do nothing but sing I who can only screech out my pain I who will continue to sing forever the fate turning the world turning let me turn it blood pouring from my mouth while I collapse and die in happiness

The frozen tundra, interesting. Cold, I have never seen snow. …Maybe? I don’t remember, my memories still escape me. Born here, and yet…it wasn’t the snow. Flowers, so many…spring. A wonderful season. Already I want to see them bloom, those dandelions…I want the puffs to soar. Hm, I wonder, in this tundra, who are we going to meet? I was told to keep this journal by Laro…kind, but sad. Already, he’s gazing out, scouting…well, we’ll see how things end up. You continued to stare out into the tundra as the snow danced before your eyes. How beautiful, the snow, it was so fluffy and yet so cold. You had no idea what to make of it as you reached out to touch it. “Mano…” (Cold…) your tongue slipped as you saw the snowflake melt. “Mano maro na more na mo lola na, cara no more no malo mano?” (Cold indeed, do you want to be with me a little?) You turned your head to nod as he wrapped his arms around you. “Mala no maro namo. Mala nor malo namo or malo?" (Not too bad, no? Even now, you want to

She dances and twirls gracefully in the moonlight as she plays a tambourine in hand, a small thing that was not the crashing symphonies in her head. The numbers, they dance, the words, they dance, the people before her, they all dance so beautifully that she wants to laugh and laugh forever. Them, dancing… and falling down in a bloody mess. That kind of dark thing she was not allowed to, wasn’t she? The tambourine rings out and she wants the symphonies to scream like Ashrensels, beings she’s far more comfortable with because humans were hypocrites and she wants them gone. To die, to die, she never did voice she wanted her mother to die. To die, to die, she never did voice she wanted Hera gone too. Caelus was better and she wanted to be with him and Pan. But no, she can’t have either of them, now can she? Her face falls like Pan’s jealousy and she wants to eat it and rip it apart like a bug. Bugs taste better than fried food, after all. The bugs stay away and she loves the fact she’s

He dances about in the moonlight with a tambourine in hand as he sings and sings with a crying face, joyful, tearful, surely this is who he is, right? Joyful and tearful and feeling but not, something that is a fake, he hates being fake, but this is who he is, a false king that should not be with a silent tambourine playing in his mind. That tambourine, a soft sound, the sound of a cry unheard, why does she cry like that? His friend, Riri, she still cries like that, he can hear it, her heartbeat, what is she waiting for? Innocence? Surely she doesn’t need that, what with a broken thing like her turning into the dark like him, just like him, dancing in the moonlight where he’s most comfortable and taking in the light because this is the only kind of light he is allowed to. Lunacy, how divine, he thinks lunacy beautiful, and none more so than Viridi. The anger and darkness she holds as she bottle and bottles like he bottles moonlight in his mind increases day by day, not because of the

She holds her little miracle in her arms as she cradles the newborn egg, just smiling softly as Volto holds her, chattering up a storm while her eyes flicker to Black. Just this, a new life, she’s glad she has her baby in her hands and she’s glad everything’s been good thus far. Just a happy life, where long ago she wasn’t, that vague feeling…she'd rather not think about it. Even now, she keeps thinking of her baby as she sings to the egg day and night, knowing Volto took the day while she took the night. As much as he works late into the night, she can’t understand the fact why Volto prefers singing in the daytime. You can sing at night too, what about lullabies? He just kept saying he preferred singing in the day, more sunny and not so dark. She got the feeling it had to do with his sad gaze as he stared out the window and murmured words to himself, poetic words where he seemed to know what the body of a woman was like. Just those poetic words, how familiar, where had she heard them