( In which I just might kill her. )

( In which a soiled dove enjoys her favorite pastime: violence. )

((Idle Hands is doing a Death Prompt exercise in writing a way you could see your character dying. Skrimps and I RP'ed out Viletta's and this is the log! Collin is Skrimps. :) ))

( Back here, NSFW )

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             Though tears flow freely from her eyes the letter in the girl’s hands is held almost reverently. Somehow, through her tears and quiet sobs, she manages to read it again and again. Each line is important. Every word so meaningful she wonders if some of it is flying by her as she devours every bit with her eyes. Slower. ( Read more... )

Dear Journal,

What do I even write here? I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Raoul. Light, what would I even say? A lot of things that I’m sure he’d just turn back on me or misunderstand.

I’m not crazy. I have to believe I’m not crazy or I very well could be. How could he call me that? How could my sunshine make me feel so pathetic and ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

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A forgotten, half empty glass of wine held the papers down. The crinkles and sharp lines in them evidence of the harsh attention they had received. On the couch, the plush fabric the color of the most creamy coffee one could make, their author slept fitfully. Without a blanket her dress was the only thing to keep the girl warm and ( Read more... )

The writing is incredibly messy compared to her neat, precise letters. Droplets of ink splatter the page and random, unfinished doodles litter the margins. Most are hearts, or what look to be the start of them, journals, quills, and broken lanterns. A poorly sketched fox is in the bottom corner of the page, only identifiable by the bushy tail and ( Read more... )

Hello Journal,

I’m sorry I’ve only been filling your pages with nonsense and not very interesting nonsense at that. These pages are to hold reminders of my youth when I’m far from it and I highly doubt I will look back with a thankful mind to read some of this. Perhaps in the future I’ll laugh at my silliness. I hope I look back on it with ( Read more... )

Dear Journal, De Book Fuck it.
Why does it matter how I address a book? It’s an inanimate object that hasn’t feelings or regards for mine. Without a polite greeting will its pages shrivel in depression?

I’d like to see that.

I’d like to see a lot of things.

One of them is Raoul behaving. The Archmage told me when he “gifted” me with Raoul’s hand ( Read more... )