The Ladies weep.

...Rosiel-sama, the Satans of Sheol prey as they would. How is it we... do... NOTHING ?!

Satana, Satana, yours wings dark and frail. Duke, count, miscreant - and the legions.

Satana, conjure thee, Satana, obeyeth the First Word, Satana, spell once bound be broken.

Satans.

...apologies, Rosiel-sama. One takes to the blade but lightly.

If there lay those in need... Lieutenant, Atziluth distinction.

Rosiel-sama will surely agree ( Read more... )

Often, to indiscretion, the eye wanders.

Is betrayal such a Fury?

[ ooc : ...in which Katan is contemplative and his Rosiel-sama might bitchslap him for it >.> ~ ? ]

Ah, but to waken to a gift of blood and roses.

This City sleeps, light as the dead.

...and you...?

[ ooc: called into neither exile, nor service. Poor darling, but he wonders ~ ♥ ]

Cold.

The Nightmare begs. Currying deception, Dream Weavers so stilled.

Atropos would smile the sweeter.

And You, so silent. An Exodus...?

~

[ ooc : such a wretched thing, the fear of having lost favour with dear Rosiel-sama ~ ♥ ~ ah, and... trouble sleeping, perhaps...? Oh, who's to tell, he's ever the oddity. ]

~

Ah, but the white of it.

...if the Void in such starvation.

A guide through this city, or some vague manner of counsel, perhaps? I should not like to wander even further and senselessly astray. The effort not unrewarded.

~

[ ooc : someone likes snow, and... not be unappreciative of a word or ten on what exactly to expect from Vertere. ]

"...Betwixt Ast-Re-a and the Scorpion sign..."

~ a modest scribbling, near the Fountain's edge
"...or all at once; more glory will be won,
Or less be lost..."

~ ingloriously inked on bandage cloth abandoned on a path
"...servily adored
Heaven's lawful Monarch? wherefore, but in hope..."

~ calligraphy in fluid motion, if the blood impure :: a wall ( Read more... )