(Untitled)

[enparis]

Comments

[enparis]

questions, queries, self-igniting molotov cocktails?

[enparis]

allison & erica. everybody wants to be in your hair, under your skin and in those clothes, on those lips. but me.

[magisterequitum]

Lydia, don't go out tonight, it's bound to take your life, there's a bad moon on the rise

[timewaslost]

watch me fall apart ; t
lydia with some lydia/peter

It itches beneath her skin like a disease.

The moon.

She can feel it in her blood, climbing its way through her body, coursing, burning.

She feels boxed up, all of her impacted so that she's covered with wolf and she can't get out, she can't breathe.

You can know everything, Peter breathes in her hair. And she wants it, wants to feel the knowledge living through her, wants it in her fingerprints.

But it, he, Peter, the wolf, makes her feel boxed in, repressed, like she's going to implode into nothingness.

And nothing, nothing has ever quite felt as bad as that. As bad as disappearing.

She looks at herself in the mirror and tries to see red hair and pale skin and green eyes, but all she sees is the moon, beneath her skin.

It howls at her, and she pulls, digs, scrapes at it.

The wolf laughs.

[enparis]

lydia. this body can only cry for so long.

[conningtons]

victoria argent, mother of a soldier, a tree in a forest up in flames