all of me is damned. From earliest beginnings, my fate has been solitude- elegant solitude, elegant loneliness. I let it walk into me like a cathedral, down its isle- wedding bells sound in the secret place of my heart.
Phizarae had always been someone who scrutinized profoundly into those around her, endeavoring to get to the essence of what they survived for, who they persisted for, and even where their lines would eventually be drawn. This was because, from early youth, the porcelain girl found that there was always more than met the eye. Once you inclined closer to someone, their eternal torment, vulnerability, and tenderness lingered conspicuously like floral sweetness in the air they exhaled.
As a stranger advanced towards her, she queried wordlessly if he would attempt to decode her while she concurrently did the same with him. Mostly, Phizarae only emitted crisp composure, leaving fervor barred behind her projection of ice-clad control; the chilling hybrid of who she was and who she wanted to be.
Politely setting her alcohol down, she cultivated a deepening awareness of the fact that, despite visibly seeing how alone she was, the stranger had the decency to ask her if his company was at all desired. And as he gestured to the unoccupied seat, she probed: "Do I appear so lonely?"
For all her rime, she was a turbulent chimera, a construct of all who had conceived and shattered her. Did anyone truly anticipate blatant kindness?
The suggestion of a smile caressed her lips as she ultimately declared, "the seat is yours if you'd like it."
As a stranger advanced towards her, she queried wordlessly if he would attempt to decode her while she concurrently did the same with him. Mostly, Phizarae only emitted crisp composure, leaving fervor barred behind her projection of ice-clad control; the chilling hybrid of who she was and who she wanted to be.
Politely setting her alcohol down, she cultivated a deepening awareness of the fact that, despite visibly seeing how alone she was, the stranger had the decency to ask her if his company was at all desired. And as he gestured to the unoccupied seat, she probed: "Do I appear so lonely?"
For all her rime, she was a turbulent chimera, a construct of all who had conceived and shattered her. Did anyone truly anticipate blatant kindness?
The suggestion of a smile caressed her lips as she ultimately declared, "the seat is yours if you'd like it."
"."
Phizarae
the winteress
