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Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens except you can hear it inexplicably playing - by a whole orchestra no less - while lost in the forest at night. You have a gut feeling that you shouldn’t, but following the music seems like your best bet at no longer being lost. Nevermind that you keep hearing footsteps around you that aren’t yours - there’s no one there, no matter how many times you check. 

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Mother, i have pasts inside me i did not bury properly. Some nights, your daughter tears herself apart yet heals in the morning.

Ijeoma Umebinyuo  (via athleisurebinch)

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Just praying a little.

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Reset. ph. C.Jeanblanc & Kitten

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“It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.”

— Sylvia Plath

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“When I discover who I am, I’ll be free.”

— Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man (via books-n-quotes)

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The demoness suffocated her master on purpose? Now that was a story that Endora truly wanted to hear about, but in much better detail. 

Regardless of their situation, the woman knew that where they were wasn’t the time nor place for such a conversation to happen. The elf didn’t want to pry too much for the reasoning behind such a gruesome tale, so it was in the hands of time she placed the matter- even if she remained quite curious. “You see, having two heels would be fine and dandy, but I will not be wearing them again.” Down below feet covered by flip flops were shaken, as if trying to remind the other of the lovely gift bestowed upon the elf.

“Currently these will do,” with a firm grasp on the heel, the delicate woman began to pull the base away from the stiletto stem. “Something was hidden inside, something very valuable to myself and could be used right about now.” It was no good, the thing was locked in place and the clay already started to hardened. That’s when Endora looked to Dar’thea, crimson lips widely spread into a smile. “Think you could be a dear and tear this apart? Inside the sole, there is a small bag of white powder.”

That was all the information she would give on that though.

The mentioning of the village earned a shrug, contemplating on the idea though. “You know, we could do that or I might have a way to grant us access elsewhere. How would you feel if I invited you back into my lovely, demon safe, home?” 

..Oh Light, what did the Sin’dorei have in mind now?

@darthea-the-demon

Red Clay and Shattered Lands

Dar’thea stands at the edge of a ridge at the heart of the Blasted Lands, far away from any of the places in Azeroth she would consider calling home at the moment.  There is one small advantage though, to this trip to the exhaustingly warm and crushed landscape around the Dark Portal, and it’s that few mortals bother to make this trip these days.

It affords the comfort of being in her natural form, where magnificent if now slightly tattered wings can stretch and spread behind her.  Where she can feel the crush of earth and clay beneath her hooves as it’s meant to be.  There’s a glance over her shoulder briefly at the looming portal in the distance, but it’s not her destination, not today.

Instead the Demoness treks across the cracked and shattered ground away from it to the west, towards the places where the mountains rise between this land and Stranglethorn beyond, to an area that was once woods and forest before the destruction this area suffered during the wars that took place around the formation of the portal.  

She’s dressed comfortably, in a loose fitting tunic without sleeves of dark grey material, long enough to hit her at mid thigh, and a snug pair of pants beneath, fitted close to her form, tail swaying behind her as she walks from beneath the hem of her top.  A messenger bag is slung cross body, the strap between her wings at her back, and neatly manicured hand with razor sharp nails clings to it like it’s the most precious thing on Azeroth.

Hooves carry her up a rise towards a small hilloc, or what once might have been before being blasted to little more than a lump of sand, and she comes to stand at the top of it, clutching her bag, scanning the area with glowing eyes.  One other odd detail about the succubus, out here alone and far from most.  Her arms are covered from wrist up in tightly wrapped gauze and bandages.  A bit of it can be seen about her upper body too where the tunic hangs open with its first few buttons undone.

(Starter written for @endora-bloodveil, and an opportunity for ‘Thea to visit somewhere on Azeroth she hasn’t been in a very long time that has a lot of meaning to her.)

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Ateez- Hala Hala inspired outfit

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“There is something bleeding to death inside me but I don’t know what it is.”

— Ingeborg Bachmann, from Three Paths to the Lake; “Eyes to Wonder,”