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[madamekokinos-ia]

[madamekokinos-ia]

[madamekokinos-ia]

Something in me wants more. I can’t rest.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals   (via devilish-hizumi)

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Queen of Wands. Three of Pentacles. Queen of Swords.

Do not be overcome by logic. Do not focus your energy solely upon the desires of your heart. In order to know peace you must find a balance between both.

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“If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it. Any other form of existence will be yet another dull book in the library of life.”

Charless Bukowski (via naturaekos)

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[madamekokinos-ia]

Cat knows it’s lucky

[madamekokinos-ia]

a series/ krystal x keith haring

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You hid the Sun from me, but I fell in love with the darkness.

Luan (via wnq-writers)

[madamekokinos-ia]

The shop was still, torn apart from a night of paranoia and unrest. Green leaves rustled under the dawn wind, the view espy of a restless oculus from a window; tossed from side to side with the gentle touch of a waking mother cradling her restless child. The smell of wet dew, hugging the underbelly of leaves, was tainted with the smell of dust.

The shop was a peaceful place, one of sustainability and renewal ( unless Doro’s involved ). The possession had brought destruction upon its depths that stunk the place of loss ( because she truly has lost ), and monstrosities left their vulgar footprints in the cracking floorboards.

Gee, mornings such as this were generally reserved for lounging about in solitude, whiling away as much of the day as felt within reason before she deemed herself prepared to step out into the world—or, perhaps more accurately, before she deemed the world prepared for her.

Yet, the prepared comfort Krystal craved wasn't presented for her own greedy hands, and there was only fear as her reward. The acceptance, and strength from the possession, hadn’t taken over and it meant the Voodoo master no longer had true peace. The assertion remained accurate, as a disturbance occurred in the form of a creature, idly standing in front of the shop's entrance. Time transpired perpetually, granting his espial time to explore the interior, before she deemed time’s up. Refuting feet clambered forward, seeking pause just before reaching the door.

A hand accelerated towards the knob — it writhed, door now ajar — gander tottering across the male's semblance, brow hiked, inquisitive, ❝Do you find opening doors exhausting—❞ stridulous voice plodded through the aperture with appeasing connotations, yet Kokinos was certain it did the exact opposite. ❝—or do you need more time observing my shop?❞ 

Suspension of Disbelief || Taeyong & Krystal || Closed

Tae was wandering the streets of Vighulir, curious eyes wide.  The first time he had been there, distraction in the form of a festival had kept him from real exploration.  This second visit once again included a trip to the coffee shop.  He did not rush off, however, but instead to sit in the shop, and to drink it.  But as he sat himself down, he found himself itching to go outside again.  Requesting a to-go cup, he poured over the caffeinated beverage and thanked the clerk.  

Thus prepared, he stepped back out into the warm July sun.  The alien hummed softly, enjoying the way it warmed his pale skin.  The Naum took a long sip of his coffee, savoring the taste before moving off down the street.  He hadn’t really planned this trip, as the last time he had tried that, it had gone quite haywire.  Instead, he decided to allow his feet to do the walking for him.   The streets were not so busy, but there were enough people that it seemed lively. 

Taeyong slipped a thin hand into his pocket and started to wander.  It was nice to enjoy the summer sun after all the work he had managed to get through in the last week.  Relief had washed over the alien the moment he had stepped outside of his dorm room.  That and the social pressures he was discovering now that he no longer avoided contact, were enough to bewilder him.  

The Naum didn’t know how long he had been walking when he came upon a curious shop.  The name on the sign read ‘The Finale Fantasy.’  Fascinated, but nervous to go in, the alien approached the front, searching curiously for some sign of its contents.  It seemed to be a type of fortune telling shop.  The kind of magic that Taeyong would not previously have believed in.  His Naum nature taught him that such things did not contain logic.  However the existence of everything thus far at Insolitus had told him otherwise…

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"The red hair really makes you stand out in a crowd." Bii says noticing the strands sway in the wind like a fire. "It also happens to be my favorite color." He says with a smile, "Is it yours too?"

The avowal elucidated the forthright stares from the populace and the sudden rise in conversation partners. ❝It’s one of many favorites,❞ an impertinent hand ascends, flirting notably with a flittering, red lock. ❝Though, for all the attention it acquires, I do hope it fulfills its purpose.❞ Increase enthusiasm, stimulate energy, encourage action and confidence. 

A fluctuation in her expression, the next bout of words expatiate softly: ❝If we share a common distaste with the color yellow, then I’ll let you touch the hair.❞ A truly considerate reward.

@bii-ia

[madamekokinos-ia]

[❝ The Fool's Journey — Krystal & Rónán

The pungent mildew scent did nothing to distract from the patterned nips. One in, one out; the prick would bite down on the stale air as viciously as the worn (fake?) leather. The tense thread gave a demure whine as it slid through the upholstery, only to be once again whipped by the prick of an out-drawing needle. Doro found enjoyment in scouting naive scuffles, embittering the souls of Vighulir’s residents - males the preponderance. Burlap appendages always at the ready for a lady’s blanket support, or ready to be a jubilant relationship’s separator, while the empty chassis was an alter of all things fun; until foreign hands prowl in enraged retaliation, lacerating his stitchings 'til he’s a pile of whimpering repentance that Krystal has to sweep up. Tedious.

While all the load-bearing and joy-having features still held true, the sensitive rips were gaping holes in the making that would not meet the chaotic fort standard that is Doro Pachis. Krystal zipped the needle tenderly between every inch of fray, giving the same tug as she would her own bewildering flesh. Doro’s stitches slouched and flex with the sway of a steady wrist, until the window inside his leather was no longer a sight. The same hand ran down the even lacing, holding the back section all together again. Doro grumpily deplored at the tactility, pouting:    ❝Play nice, babe,❞ behavior most typical (almost stereotypical) of a scorned child.

A lithe finger cut through his black marble eyes to poke right at the mound they called a brain. His had clearly gone missing. ❝I'll show you how I play, babe.❞ Spoken peril almost revitalized, a joyous chime ( why had she installed that thing? ) of the shop's aperture guaranteed Doro’s safety. Miffed espial swiveled towards the intruder — a delicate, muliebrous creature. Doro erupted into deep, hearty giggles, every bit was a thick concoction of unrestrained thrill to have the unfamiliar habitué in his home…and a hint of nervousness at the annoyance Krystal permeated. Both had the doll hiding his hysterical grin, lowering his towering height to be nuzzling his face into Kokinos’ shoulder.

A dip in her head's disoriented angle indicated towards the woman’s lissome form, ❝I'll be with you in a moment.❞ Doro's forfeiture would have to come later, then. 

[  ❈ — @ronan-ia

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[madamekokinos-ia]

😓 - acknowledging mistakes🎺 - playing an instrument🎁 - making gifts✊ - keeping promises

[ 😓 - acknowledging mistakes ] 

Though quite adept at mistakes herself, she’s notefully vigilant - extensive mistakes are inescapable and are locked away in that vault of a mind, one vastly riddled with copious senseless speculations. But, don’t fret ! Although faults are recorded, she finds publicly pointing them out way too tedious, unless being deceitful is a priority at the time.  Doro, on the other hand…

[ 🎺 - playing an instrument ]

Before, to be Kokinos was to dance until her limbs gave or to laugh heartily at her own failed singing voice, yet, enjoyment is not found in either, now. She’s not musically inclined nor is she seeking to be. Instead, time is better spent whiling away, scrubbing vials and sweeping her shop’s floor. 

[ 🎁 - making gifts ] 

Kokinos possesses astounding domestic skills, falling into the category of baking and sewing, while additionally having the ability to craft marionettes/dolls. If all fall under reasonable gifts, then, yes; she’s quite skilled at making gifts! 

[ ✊ - keeping promises ]

Gaining one’s trust  is a valiant goal for Kokinos, yet finding the time seems to be a low personal priority. Not while she remains a husk. If trust is acquired, promises are made, then those promises will be kept. Securely. Watch out for, Doro, however! If jealous, he will find entertainment in ravelling the trust and promises. 

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☂

[ ☂ —  YOUR MUSE SHIELDING MY MUSE FROM RAIN ]

Her saturated form sauntered in the turbid downpour, gusting winds lugging riotous rain droplets in avid vortices. Beads of precipitation scurried alight exposed skin, disheveled locks tamed by submerged raindrops; posture hunched, own arms wrapped themselves around her drenched torso — a deplorable shelter. The notion was superfluous, as a cloak suddenly wavered above her person, rain gradually fading. A gratuitous glance at the shielding fabric’s proprietor, she huffs, words clipped: 

 ❝It’s unfortunate that the rain found me first,❞ a lull as she inches closer to the male’s flapping coat, ❝I owe you, though.❞

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❂❂

❝ Why do the bad guys always get the unhappy ending? ❞ Words percolated flagrantly from pouting lips, fidgety hands flirting anxiously with a loose chain swaying from her diadem. The bemoan had spurred from her being on the disastrous side of unfortunate events. 

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🍻 - tolerating alcohol

 [ 🍻 - tolerating alcohol ]

When Kokinos is free, time reserved for inebriation is scarce!  She doesn’t normally consume alcohol, so her tolerance for alcohol is comparatively low. When intoxicated, she’s quite an atrocious sight! Overbearingly emotional, even.