#i think if i get him sculpted and hollowed out this week i’ll have plenty of time to get him dry
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Had mother’s day yesterday and couldn’t handle visiting more today bc my body has decided I’m not done hurting yet, so after finishing some cleaning chores I put 2/4 teapots together and portioned out clay for Bone Eater 2.0 to start sculpting soon. He might not get in this next train kiln but I believe my next class is soda again, so I’ll have a second attempt either way.
#arting#pottery#i’d prefer he go in the train kin in a month tho#i think if i get him sculpted and hollowed out this week i’ll have plenty of time to get him dry#he’s gonna get to sleep in my oven at home for a bit too
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@roseblanche-x
( partie une. ) the ( k i s s ) – he’d meant for it to be a crowning moment, a delicate trinket that symbolized his putative L O V E for her, but it simply wasn’t enough. like trying to ignite an incandescent flame with soused matches, there was n o t h i n g. she wanted to thank him for the intimate recollection of why she needed to abandon their insolent relationship to begin with. zachariah winthrop was not suited for the love she desired; devoid of derision and pride. he just wanted to ( w i n ) and now that he had, what was his prize? he’d only impelled her further away, into an aphotic hollow. if he believed those funereal three years had been empty, he had no idea what he was in for. F R I E N D S ? no, he was a phantom – d e c e a s e d to her. she only hoped for his sake, faith’s ardency could keep him warm in his putrid, brumal grave.
( partie deux. ) tepid pads planed over the milk of her creamed thighs, ripe petals A R D E N T against the aromatic crook of her neck. alex’s sterling laughter permeated the air, ivory crescents curving around the leather seat as she attempted uphold her composure. ❝ stop, we haven’t been out of the house in days. i don’t need another reason to rush back. i need at least two more glasses of champagne, ❞ she implored, lavishly veiled hues addling softly toward her mesmeric date. asher lolled against the opulent leather of the booth, a lucent, wide – toothed grin stretching across his rugged features. perhaps it was the liquor glittering through her bloodstream, the lozenge that ( f r o t h e d ) inside of her whip – tight stomach, or her fractured, drubbing heart by chance, but asher was I N C R E D I B L E and it had only taken her until this evening to acknowledge. he loved her with everything he had and it was rendered for anyone to see. for that, she cherished him. ❝ okay, okay. i’ll leave you alone. it’s just that, ❞ he spilled, delivering a tender kiss beneath her ear, ❝ you look ( a m a z i n g ) in that dress. ❞ she twisted her nose softly, inviting her crystalline flute of pink champagne to her greedy pout. she swilled the bubbling elixir, urging her shoulder toward her diamond – adorned ear. ❝ you know what? no more alcohol for you, ❞ she quipped, dislodging the glass of crown and coke from his able hand & placed it before her. asher soughed tacitly, his cimmerian rondures riveting the expanse of the lux saloon. ❝ hey, ❞ he nudged, lurching inward as his arm wilted behind her against the lounge. ❝ isn’t that zach? ❞ for a moment, her heart rippled; an undisciplined response that she P R A Y E D would dispel over time. alexandra peeked from beneath billowing lashes to acknowledge his presence, a cluster of silver and gold flares decorating the ambit as photographers shuffled to secure the ( m o n e y ) shot. he hadn’t arrived alone, a recognizable, lissome blonde dangling from his arm. she anticipated some sort of throe in her chest, convulsion in her body as he was swathed in affection from another woman right in front of her face, but she was I M P A S S I V E. faith could have him; empty, self – indulgent love wasn’t anything to vaunt. ❝ yeah, it is. ❞ she was curt, opulent sepals pursing together. she was certain they’d made eye contact, but it was blunt and brusque. spitfire had begun to ferment inside of her, ready to flare if he ( t r i e d ) to be slick. alexandra arched her carefully groomed brow, lifting her near empty glass of champagne to him with a sick little smile. ❝ what do you want to do? ❞ asher inquired, sweeping the tips of his fingers atop her shoulder. she could sense his apprehension. he was worried about what zach was capable of, but he had never been acquainted with the R E A L alex. she smirked, slinging back the remnants of her glass. ❝ nothing. nothing at all. we’re friends. ❞
zach slung yet another glass of champagne to the back of his throat, becoming addled with the frothy ( b u b b l e s ) ascending beyond his logic. low-bass heartbeats thumped throughout the vehicle, causing tremors to rumble right beneath their feet. faith’s laugh chimed in his ears. he turned his chin to her, grinning, a weightlessness floating through his body. he was sure he had gotten everything R I G H T this time. faith wasn’t destined to be in his life forever, they were both more than aware of that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t retain and relish in her for now. his game plan was simple – wait patiently for alexandra to recognise that whatever asher did for her wasn’t half of what he could do for her – and then it would all work out. he was certain. and if it didn’t he would invoice her his car repair bills. the couple pulled up outside the apprised cocktail lounge and emerged to a squall of flashing lights, shielding the mouths curling around their names, shouting to look here, smile this way, and do you have any comment on the photos from the bbmas after party? amanda must have tipped them off – there had been solicitude surrounding his name the past two weeks after his great DISAPPEARING act and accounts sighting him drunk and disorderly, or just plain disorderly, in more than one location. faith had followed suit and hastily gone into hiding until his team had reigned him back under their control – their anxieties simmered, but it was known among them, ( although unspoken ), that zach did what he wanted, and it was their job to cover his tracks. but to amanda’s relief he returned as though nothing had happened at all, and she knew better than to grill him. leaking his whereabouts to the press didn’t bother him – in fact, it lulled him into a faux entrapment that his life had settled into a comfortable M E D I A N. inside, garish lights swathed the surface of his sun-deepened rind until he appeared to be natant in rippling colour. the paparazzi subsided, leaving only the underlying thrum of music and slurs ghosting the rims of cocktail glasses. ❝ i’ll never get tired of having the thing everyone in the room is gawking at on my arm, ❞ faith drawled, redolent syllables pronounced upon the shell of his ear. he tosses an idle smirk over his shoulder. ❝ did you just call me a THING? and also imply that you own me? faith coleman. . . ❞ he mocked, leaning across the bar to open a tab. ❝ people don’t own me, i own everything. ❞ he murmured, emerging his lips upon hers. she perches upon a barstool looking like some perverted fantasy – with her hips stretched like a wooden Christ, lips painted dark as blood and even hair so golden it could have only been the result of some somber presage. he stood at her back, his hand cradling the exposed base of her embowed spine. zach wilts around her, balancing the unopened phial of moët & chandon dom perignon in a greedy palm. they share the exorbitant elixir between them until the bottle is almost drained and he feels dizzily inebriated – the kind that doesn’t leave his memory with boring holes the next morning – and he had taken a seat at the plush barstool beside her. ❝ i’m drunk, ❞ he garbles merrily, tipping his flute toward her. she raises a sculpted eyebrow. ❝ as am i. are we lowering the cachet of this place? ❞ zach laughs. ❝ obviously not. we’re the coolest people here. ❞ he is jeering, but faith allows her misted gaze to dance over the crowds of people adorning the lounge as if searching for a worthy contender to their ‘coolness’. and then she freezes on the space hanging right above his shoulder. he doesn’t notice. ❝ zach, i think alex is here. ❞ his heart gyres, but he keeps his eyes steady upon faith’s defined features, hand on her knee. ❝ yeah? ❞ he goads. he could have laughed aloud. she disappears, positively UNTRACEABLE for three years, and suddenly, she’s everywhere. she’s all over him like some kind of terminal ( r a s h ). not that he particularly minded. perhaps this would be fun, he mused. ❝ that B I T C H, ❞ she seethes, stunning zach for a moment. but then he remembers the lies he had spun her. whoops. ❝ i should go over there and say something. i want to. i want to say something to her, see how brave she is then. ❞ a clean row of ivory sinks into his plush lower lip, biting back a laugh. he takes her chin in his fingers, re-directing her gaze to him. ❝ i promise you i’m telling you this for your own good, ❞ he cautions. ❝ faith, that girl will eat you A L I V E. ❞ faith physically deflates in her seat, a pout protruding her bee-sting lips. ❝ no sulking, ❞ he instructs, standing and holding her hand to guide her. ❝ we can do this the easy way... who knows? maybe you’ll even become friends. ❞ zach grins at her reassuringly, turning on his heel. and there she f u c k i n g is. clinquant and glowering at him like some kind of scorned norse goddess. he smiles obliviously, ear to diamond-adorned ear. he almost doesn’t see that pathetic excuse of a clone practically clasped around her like she was his life-source at her side. ❝ alexandra! and C O. ❞ zach doesn’t even offer asher a glance – his eyes entirely transfixed on a woman he would never, E V E R, be able to fucking shake. he takes the liberty of seating himself at the private booth, tugging faith’s arm lightly to join him. he wasn’t sure what he was feeling – hysterical, maybe? he was too giddily drunk to care. he was teetering somewhere between outrageously jealous, realising he had no right to be as the FRIENDS proposal was entirely his idea, and amusement in its purest form. ❝ well isn’t this just a merry fuckin’ coincidence! ❞ he squeezes faith’s thigh encouragingly, then glances to her. she smiles, and then he does too, because she’s fucking gorgeous and all four of them know it. and it was sort of SEXY that she had the confidence to put a brave face on. stupid and asking to be buried six feet beneath alex’s louboutins, but sexy regardless. ❝ hi, ❞ she coos sweetly, curling a possesive claw around zach’s bicep. ❝ you must be alex. i’ve heard plenty about you. i’m faith. coleman. and you..? ❞ she turns to asher, raking honeyed hues over him as painfully slowly as she could manage.
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