Laurent-Auvel

my dreams are tangled in my hair intertwined with bones and feathers molten into runes and rings a branches nest where the ravens croak and future looks like the past my hidden soul, a fairy light wild and silent - beating with the pulse of the trees captured between grass and fit into fishbones adorning me with amethysts and amber my dreams are breathing in my tangles like a spring breeze and touch of the sea mending my heart - a muscle made of moss

Tiyan’s tired legs were leaving footprints in the thick snow. Muted landscape seemed to laugh from his attempts, yet the boy knew that he can’t return home without even one prey. Hunger was entering his house – and not only his. The whole Vennklan Valley was petrified in time – held head down by eternal winter. It drained them from strength and pushed into desperation. This winter felt harsher, like it wanted to check how long they can live in these conditions without breaking in half. Some were broken. Some still fought. Some, like Tiyan, possessed certain skills, which were helping them survive. Existence became a string of days, which dragged like a wounded moose through the snow, an endless darkness without hope for the better, Maybe only for worse. Tiyan felt as the cold slowly crept under his jacket and he tucked himself even deeper into the layers of scarves. This kind of clothing was slowing him down, but he had no choice. The freezing air liked finding holes in his

he stood near the tree. touched it's coarse bark, which seemed to breathe under his fingers. it's hollows looked like eyes, with darkness hidden deep within - a memory of another life, where it still had limbs and lungs and blood. now it breathed through leaves; bled with resin. the curse she threw on herself still flew through its roots, boiling inside its branches. the wind still carried her name from the valley to the forest and from the forest to the birch groves, where it grew, bathed in sun in summer, covered with snow during winter. when it slept, its dreams spread and the people in the villages nearby couldn't fathom the mystery of a crying woman, scattering flower petals on the hill. he always was coming during solstices. even if he couldn't show his face to humans, even if this would bring them misfortune and madness. mask covering it, a fox mask of black colors, blending with the night. and even if he could have all what the world could offer. he couldn't have her. we

I inhale the elusive fragrance a beautiful scent of your rage my blood becomes thick as liquid iron and hot as fire in your soul we drift between two worlds like haunted shadows, alluring wraiths always two steps from each other always burning like samhain fires my cursed witch, a storm cloud on an innocent sky I would sell my immortality to turn your anger into boiling lust and fill you with darkest dreams

For you, summer is beaming with radiant glory. It warms your skin with ferocious kisses of the sun. All people who I ever knew, loved summer, when crops were growing on the fields, when birds sang and one could spend whole season, without worrying about what to put on a plate, because black soil was giving more than it was taking. The summer was my time as well. With feet deep in the grass, I ran through the meadows, to admire the clear sky. I was filled with life and joy, always, every time. I thought forever. Until the Fae changed that. For you, winter is a time when everything sleeps and dies. Wolves leave their teritories. Frozen chains keep the villages as their captives. If it’s mild, you can only hope it passes quickly, so the spring could start her reign. If it’s harsh… then you fight for life. Fight for one month of existence. In Nells, winters are harsh. I despised winter with all my might. Until the Fae changed that I was chased by the summer and found solace in winter’s

The dark forest closes over me, chill air filling my senses with a scent of pines and glamourous mystery. I know how mystery feels. It's the scent of darkness, enchanted and tempting, for all who embrace the night. For all who are not afraid to tread the unatended paths. I dwell deeper into woody nightshade, my eyes gleaming in the shadows. My memories swirl, ravenous and mourning. You told me that woods were you sacred home. That your soul yearned for nature, it called you, with a silent but urgent voice. For me, every tree has your name engraved on the bark, every bough whispers your name. You were a wild creature, a spark of fire in the darkness. A wolf soul, who in his mind doesn't know boundaries set by this unforgiving world. I see you in these woods, free, untamed, a soul that never was chained by painful reality. A spirit who was tempted by mystery and allure of the night. A heart which was beating for the wilds, which resonated with mine on mystical level - a winter fae

One day. He was his beast from the wilderness, a forest creature that appeased his inner turmoils – and eternal hunger. He was appearing in the midst of twilight to ruffle his feathers and join their foreheads. And nothing else mattered, in fact. Two days. He was a ray of light among his own personal dusk and the only one who has seen deeper. Maybe if others were so close to Thra, they would get closer to perfection. Because he was aware that skekSo considers him almost perfect. His debauched thief. His source of air under deep water. Three days. And a trine. Luscious as pure sin. He was a secret for him and keeper of his secrets. Two souls – so different, with summons so far from each other. But so close at the same time. Only skin could set them apart. As he huffed into skekSo’s collar made of dark feathers, he knew that their scents mingled until end of time, and if he ever finds a creature so keen to separate them, he will give up on the hunt forever. You are made to fill me

look upon the trees they scream - bark drilled with poisonous nightmares dreams of fire and waves crashing against the trunks [ they reach to the crimson sky, touching the core of the laughing gods, a supplication without mercy, a call without an answer ] look upon the sky it looks at you with dead birds' eyes thick fog, a stormcloud without an end [ the goddess tilts the cup to pour acid a rain which glitters with broken glass, burns with stolen flame like moon, which cracks above your head, hungry for the ruby prey ] look at the reflection in this drying pond it's us, bathing is pain; holes in our decaying hearts spreading deep into out marrow; polluting the world with black holes sentencing to death the offspring of tomorrow swallowing the rot, eating it from the golden plate look upon the ocean look upon the land of finished stories where fairytales become tiny horrors with wings of rusty metal and gravel-filled eyes this is the last lullaby the end's glorious form, gods'