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[signoraoftheplants]

She had willingly fallen silent. Was there something that Donna could say? Once, the women held unbridled passion, devoted love for the opposite but it had been destroyed, turned into ruins by Mother Miranda and her manipulating ways to find a suitable skin for her fallen daughter.

It was all in the past, a piece of them that had once existed and was erased in means of becoming the women that they now were. To act on ancient emotions, the love that once and ever so obviously still existed between the women was certain doom, seen instantly and unforgivingly as treachery and mutiny to dance to a beat that was not one designed by Mother Miranda, herself.

After all, how could Mother Miranda ensure their loyalty would still exist, remember dedicated and devoted if powerful, potent emotions were to rise once more and create the possibility that in a moment of desperation, a moment of despair that they would choose each other and not protect the dreadful woman.

Desperate. It was the only word that could be used to describe the woman’s eagerness to fall, melt into the palm that rested, cradled carefully against the curve of her cheek beneath the protection of Donna’s faithful garb that was only ever worn from the very moment that both her life and body had been ruined, scarred from the experiment.

It was strange just how tremendous change could be. . . Once, Lady Dimitrescu’s touch had been welcomed, encouraged and ever so blissful. Now? Strangely, it remained as blissful as ever but held bitterness, bitterness that this was something she could not ever have once more, no matter how desperately she’d hope. “It’s quiet. . . Where are those beloved girls of yours, Lady Dimitrescu.”

for she will forever haunt my dreams ; @vampcina

Only now, was regret coursing through her veins like that of potent venom. It had come without warning during her travels, barrelling down upon her similar to that of an excited pet and served only to ever so effortlessly overwhelm. Donna’s tiny body was struck by an unforgiving chill in spite of the weighted coat that clung, draped from her surprisingly sturdy shoulders in means of protection from the earlier winds which had now proven to be merely child’s play when compared to the violent swirls that now surged with a ruthless persistence. Her polished boots continued to trod defiantly through the pristine, white snow that so often covered the vegetation beneath, believing that the distance travelled would be wasted with her strenuous efforts if giving up was to be chosen now.

Besides… Seeing her beloved Countess for even that of a fleeting second Countess was more than enough for such difficult travels to be willingly undertaken.

The noiseless lord was positive that her image appeared to be thoroughly staggered by that of the relentless conditions, thoroughly plagued by fallen snowflakes and left with the beginnings of dampened fabric as those earlier mentioned snowflakes begun to melt. 

If only she had chosen to take an improved mode of transport rather than her current choice of simply walking the mediocre distance between Beneviento Manor and Castle Dimitrescu, such a devastating mess she would no not be captured within and a better sight she would be for her beloved.

It had turned into being, yet another, dreadfully cold, winter day on the edge of the Romanian mountaintop during the middle of her already mentioned travels, far enough that returning to her adobe to change her mode of transportation would be just as fruitless as choosing to solider on. Either way, her already supple, alabaster flesh would be whipped thoroughly by the agonising strikes of the unforgiving wind that managed to seep through her layers, causing it to not only burn and ache but to redden as it begged for relief.

Sweet, sweet Donna Beneviento was huddled over by the time that the elegant doors of Castle Dimitrescu was reached, an failed attempt to conjure the very last of her warmth as she, surprisingly, waited with patience after her delicate but worn fingers used the weighted, and ever so decorous door knocker to announce her presence.

[signoraoftheplants]

“It had only begun to set in during the midst of my travels. . . I couldn’t see the use in returning when I was so close.” In spite of being spoken with the utmost gentleness, her timbre held it’s deep husk that surprised most whenever they were fortunate enough to be heard.

She let her gaze slowly ascend, lifting to settle gently on the opposing woman as that of an invisible lump invaded the base of her throat and paving way to the difficulties that would soon occur when the woman would try to swallow as, once again, the Puppeteer was met with Alcina’s lasting beauty. Her coat served to only be tightened by delicate fingers that were thoroughly worn, expressed that this petite, delicate woman that barely uttered a word to those that were not her beloved Alcina was a fierce, devoted worker.

“It’s Friday.” Simply spoken, as if Alcina should know better. “We. . . It’s our afternoon.” It was rare for them to spend time together, time that wasn’t invaded by the watchful eyes of Mother Miranda and that brute, Karl. “I wouldn’t miss our time together for anything.” Now those, those words were whispered ever so delicately, barely even being heard by herself or the doll that was hidden beneath her coat. Brought often for the Dimitrescu daughters entertainment, a means to expel energy in an manner that would not leave Alcina’s home in ruins.

for she will forever haunt my dreams ; @vampcina

Only now, was regret coursing through her veins like that of potent venom. It had come without warning during her travels, barrelling down upon her similar to that of an excited pet and served only to ever so effortlessly overwhelm. Donna’s tiny body was struck by an unforgiving chill in spite of the weighted coat that clung, draped from her surprisingly sturdy shoulders in means of protection from the earlier winds which had now proven to be merely child’s play when compared to the violent swirls that now surged with a ruthless persistence. Her polished boots continued to trod defiantly through the pristine, white snow that so often covered the vegetation beneath, believing that the distance travelled would be wasted with her strenuous efforts if giving up was to be chosen now.

Besides… Seeing her beloved Countess for even that of a fleeting second Countess was more than enough for such difficult travels to be willingly undertaken.

The noiseless lord was positive that her image appeared to be thoroughly staggered by that of the relentless conditions, thoroughly plagued by fallen snowflakes and left with the beginnings of dampened fabric as those earlier mentioned snowflakes begun to melt. 

If only she had chosen to take an improved mode of transport rather than her current choice of simply walking the mediocre distance between Beneviento Manor and Castle Dimitrescu, such a devastating mess she would no not be captured within and a better sight she would be for her beloved.

It had turned into being, yet another, dreadfully cold, winter day on the edge of the Romanian mountaintop during the middle of her already mentioned travels, far enough that returning to her adobe to change her mode of transportation would be just as fruitless as choosing to solider on. Either way, her already supple, alabaster flesh would be whipped thoroughly by the agonising strikes of the unforgiving wind that managed to seep through her layers, causing it to not only burn and ache but to redden as it begged for relief.

Sweet, sweet Donna Beneviento was huddled over by the time that the elegant doors of Castle Dimitrescu was reached, an failed attempt to conjure the very last of her warmth as she, surprisingly, waited with patience after her delicate but worn fingers used the weighted, and ever so decorous door knocker to announce her presence.

[signoraoftheplants]

Of late, it truly did seem as if the already challenging period of winter was lasting longer than it had previously across the decades. Once, a seemingly peaceful looking landscape flushed with vibrant colours of greens was now dulled, left with that of browns, dark greens and muddled whites, a sight that was, admittedly, beautiful but simply didn’t hold the same splendour that opposing seasons offered.

It was that of a tormenting thought to think of such a challenging period of time extending even further. It was enough to leave the woman, momentarily, drained of her energy. Who wanted to remain indoors for such prolonged periods? Whilst timid, Donna truly did find solace and joy in her time spent beneath the sun, hands buried in the soil whilst she tends to her beloved gardens or enjoying a cup of tea whilst simply enjoying a sight that wasn’t paint-peeled walls. Forcing those to remain indoors without the ability to tend to their joys was devastating in it’s own right. For Donna, the lack of ability to tend to all of her plants with loving, devoted hands was treacherous, agonising and didn’t gift her that fulfilment she lived for.

“Amore mio. . ." She was trying to prevent the desire to let her teeth chatter from coming to life, delicate hands remaining steadfast across her waist out of mere instinct to keep herself somewhat warm as the rest of her body burned beneath the freezing, frigidness that had settled in. “It appears that yet another storm has fallen upon us.” Distaste was heard on her tongue as her petite body ever so effortlessly leant into that of the Countess’s more than capable palm.

for she will forever haunt my dreams ; @vampcina

Only now, was regret coursing through her veins like that of potent venom. It had come without warning during her travels, barrelling down upon her similar to that of an excited pet and served only to ever so effortlessly overwhelm. Donna’s tiny body was struck by an unforgiving chill in spite of the weighted coat that clung, draped from her surprisingly sturdy shoulders in means of protection from the earlier winds which had now proven to be merely child’s play when compared to the violent swirls that now surged with a ruthless persistence. Her polished boots continued to trod defiantly through the pristine, white snow that so often covered the vegetation beneath, believing that the distance travelled would be wasted with her strenuous efforts if giving up was to be chosen now.

Besides… Seeing her beloved Countess for even that of a fleeting second Countess was more than enough for such difficult travels to be willingly undertaken.

The noiseless lord was positive that her image appeared to be thoroughly staggered by that of the relentless conditions, thoroughly plagued by fallen snowflakes and left with the beginnings of dampened fabric as those earlier mentioned snowflakes begun to melt. 

If only she had chosen to take an improved mode of transport rather than her current choice of simply walking the mediocre distance between Beneviento Manor and Castle Dimitrescu, such a devastating mess she would no not be captured within and a better sight she would be for her beloved.

It had turned into being, yet another, dreadfully cold, winter day on the edge of the Romanian mountaintop during the middle of her already mentioned travels, far enough that returning to her adobe to change her mode of transportation would be just as fruitless as choosing to solider on. Either way, her already supple, alabaster flesh would be whipped thoroughly by the agonising strikes of the unforgiving wind that managed to seep through her layers, causing it to not only burn and ache but to redden as it begged for relief.

Sweet, sweet Donna Beneviento was huddled over by the time that the elegant doors of Castle Dimitrescu was reached, an failed attempt to conjure the very last of her warmth as she, surprisingly, waited with patience after her delicate but worn fingers used the weighted, and ever so decorous door knocker to announce her presence.

[signoraoftheplants]

for she will forever haunt my dreams ; @vampcina

Only now, was regret coursing through her veins like that of potent venom. It had come without warning during her travels, barrelling down upon her similar to that of an excited pet and served only to ever so effortlessly overwhelm. Donna’s tiny body was struck by an unforgiving chill in spite of the weighted coat that clung, draped from her surprisingly sturdy shoulders in means of protection from the earlier winds which had now proven to be merely child’s play when compared to the violent swirls that now surged with a ruthless persistence. Her polished boots continued to trod defiantly through the pristine, white snow that so often covered the vegetation beneath, believing that the distance travelled would be wasted with her strenuous efforts if giving up was to be chosen now.

Besides. . . Seeing her beloved Countess for even that of a fleeting second Countess was more than enough for such difficult travels to be willingly undertaken.

The noiseless lord was positive that her image appeared to be thoroughly staggered by that of the relentless conditions, thoroughly plagued by fallen snowflakes and left with the beginnings of dampened fabric as those earlier mentioned snowflakes begun to melt. 

If only she had chosen to take an improved mode of transport rather than her current choice of simply walking the mediocre distance between Beneviento Manor and Castle Dimitrescu, such a devastating mess she would no not be captured within and a better sight she would be for her beloved.

It had turned into being, yet another, dreadfully cold, winter day on the edge of the Romanian mountaintop during the middle of her already mentioned travels, far enough that returning to her adobe to change her mode of transportation would be just as fruitless as choosing to solider on. Either way, her already supple, alabaster flesh would be whipped thoroughly by the agonising strikes of the unforgiving wind that managed to seep through her layers, causing it to not only burn and ache but to redden as it begged for relief.

Sweet, sweet Donna Beneviento was huddled over by the time that the elegant doors of Castle Dimitrescu was reached, an failed attempt to conjure the very last of her warmth as she, surprisingly, waited with patience after her delicate but worn fingers used the weighted, and ever so decorous door knocker to announce her presence.