

Esther There is an empire who laid her foundations upon a bed of saffron, weaving its delicate strands into her garments alongside silk, cotton and gold. Walk into any of her cities and you will find the purple-sashed traders who carry the yellow-tipped, scarlet stalks from the crocus fields to the maidens, bakers, artisans and priests. Slip into a quiet back alley and you might find a haggard old man who will persuade you to share a cup of saffron tea, in exchange for a little company for as long as the tea lasts. The wise king anoints his servants with its yellow mark, and the blessed mother washes her newborn child iEsther


StyxElizabeth sang to the lake, wispy vines of mist and fog undulating, creeping past the trees: old trees, young trees, trees stripped bare, charred trees, trees with rotting buds, trees full of maggots and festering meat, trees twisted and gnarled together, locked through decades of growing closer. She stopped her song, her last note taut afraid silent. Bodies hung around her, upside down from the trees. Pale, blue-veined, ethereal; bodies of humans, bodies of people, bodies with names. They had names, they all did. Her hands trembled, cold, the blood inside them colder still, caressing the cheek of the body closest to her, its skStyx
*pounces on Kit*
gotcha.
*wanders off to hunt down more NTWFDeviants*
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Resident Flying Ocelot Clarinetist, Young Fogey, Thesaurus Thrower, Chainsaw Demigoddess, and Deity Ex Machina. But you knew THAT.
I am many things. All of them hypoallergenic.
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"When the voices of doubt plague you, write down what the voices are saying." -AMMI
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"Men without noses are very beautiful, like antique marbles." -Kathleen Scott
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See the depth of my obsession: [link]
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