u ready for this comeback?

ic | oh i've got that pretty privilege.

bond: angel (eshire) | i'll make you sing like it's a concert!

bond: delun | i'll be lucifer so you be my lilith.

bond: nefeloma | rule the world with eyeliner like blades.

aesthetic | sugar sugar oh gimme the sugar crash!

thoughts | dollar store remedies and homegrown demons.

self promo | may the birds ever fly.

promotion | little big boy is going to see how big he really is.

canon | i want to believe you're somebody's unholy hoax.

visage | appearances can be so appealing; so deceiving!

spirit: c | an urge you can't ignore

castle town | you're not alone this is your home.

bond: amarin | a fish inside a birdcage.

@wcyfarer &&. said... "You're so pretty..." As if this were a new discovery. Sometimes, when the light hits just right, greyish blue eyes, red liner... even his cheekbones, nose and lips were beautiful. "... until you start talking."

pretty.  breathtaking.  gorgeous.  every  other  word  in  a  similar  vein  —  he's  heard  them  all  more  times  than  he  cares  to  recall.  whispered  with  the  reverence  of  a  believer  paying  tribute  to  their  god.  muttered  beneath  hushed  breaths,  intent  in  every  syllable.  ren  knows  he's  attractive.  an  ethereal  being  crafted  by  literal  hands  of  the  DIVINE  —  much  like  a  living  work  of  art.  (  the  wanderer  supposes  he  is,  in  a  way.  )  it's  a  bit  like  how  the  most  poisonous  things  in  nature  cloak  themselves  in  the  brightest  colors  —  concealing  danger  beneath  an  appealing  visage. no matter how dark his thoughts might go, no matter how twisted his intent, the face they hide behind is nothing less than BEAUTIFUL in every way.

... he's never taken pride in how he looks.

the  most  ren  can  say  in  its  favor  is  its  use  as  yet  another  TOOL  in  his  arsenal.  a  few  honeyed  words  become  all  the  more  potent  when  spoken  from  alluring  lips.  this  face,  this  form,  these  damnable  eyes  —  all  were  brought  into  the  world  by  her  will.  it  leaves  a  SOUR  taste  resting on his tongue,  that  the  most  unambiguously  desirable  thing  about  him  is  something  entirely  beyond  his  control.

a  laugh  bubbles  forth  from  that  pretty  mouth  of  his  —  its  cruel  edge  coming  in  sharp  contrast. the dichotomy is as staggering as ever.  ❝  good.  ❞  ren  says,  sounding  genuinely  DELIGHTED.  his  personality  is  an  acquired  taste  few  can  claim  to  tolerate,  and  he  wouldn't  have  it  any  other  way.  (  it's  his.  like  his  name.  unlike  his  face.  )   ❝  oh traveler, hasn't  anyone  ever  told  you  appearances  can  be  deceiving?  ❞ the smile he wears has no right to be so innocent; such an unfair world this is!

@ladyferros

→ The man before her is intriguing, if anything, though more than that, he is cold and blank. It much reminds Camille of herself, if anything, or at least the impression which she strives to give to the world- she learned long ago that to put on an icy visage was much more beneficial to give the illusion of softness and comfort. To be feared was much more beneficial than to be seen as accessible. And, it was just as well for Lady Ferros, for she was neither kind, nor generous. She would do what was best for her family, and her city, and such was something that the townspeople best be aware of.

   The spoon stirring a sugar cube into her teacup clicks lightly against the side, porcelain rattling just briefly in the saucer before the Piltoven puts a stop to it with the touch of her index finger. She brings the drink to her lips and sips with a short hum of response, hugging the cup between her hands and swallowing as she looks up to the man before her.

         – “Mm. Perhaps that’s true, though I like to emphasize what death does for          politics. After all, what sort of thing can turn the tables as sharply as a          killing? Not negotiations, that is for certain.” –

   Though her slight shift in the conversation isn’t for naught, and Camille pauses to look over the man sitting across from her. While they’d been able to make idle, pleasant conversation over the course of their meeting, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was really after, and why he’d appeared in her city. This was her greater concern- he didn’t seem especially dangerous, though the woman knew all too well that looks could be deceiving. And some piece of him alerted her that he wasn’t only what he seemed- though this could be her unfamiliarity speaking on her behalf. The fan of her eyelashes cast a dull shadow against her colourless cheekbones as she blinked once, then spoke again, voice even.

         – “Tell me, what are you looking for? I doubt that you’re here simply on a          pleasurable visit.” –

COLD AND BLANK, those are two adjectives that make for perfect slates for no man’s assumption. give them little and they’ll assume all the wrong things in all the wrong angles. he’s learned how to be so through the years, the image of solemn indifference. the reaper, they called him, the wraith, neither of which held true, but made his purpose in his homeland earlier. he was an enforcer, the looming shadow of the government so many feared. it served him right, to be feared. it served him right to be an unfathomable concept. bringing his own cup to his lips, he drinks his beverage quietly, single purple eye settled upon the curious figure of lady ferros.

two anomalies, the both of them. she doesn’t feel like the other folks of the city of progress he’s met prior, nor does she look like most of them.

a soft chuckle at her response, more courteous than amused, he places the cup back down. they did share similar views on politics. to him, death had been a tool, time and time again, and somehow, quaintly, death decides to ignore him when his turn came. it didn’t matter in the long run, the poetry of it, as pragmatism was far more appealing.

“negotiations have its place, but so does death. it suppose one could call the latter the greatest remedy to failed negotiations,” and there’s a smile to his face, but it still remains hollow, lacking any warmth. he had often been witness to the weight of what he spoke --- not only witness, but maker of it as well. her question comes in its due place and he hums, gently. “i was waiting for you to ask so, milady. i am seeking for a perilous individual, one that could likely jeopardize your city. she’s a wanted fellow back at home, you see? i doubt one would enjoy having her loitering about by their own home, all things considered.”