β€³Β Β @mahdinateβββ,Β Β π’ππͺπ’ π’π΅π³π¦πͺπ₯π¦π΄,Β Β asked: Β Β βΉ there is no peace without blood, and so it shall be. βΊ
historically, the sentiment is sound, but it spurs a strange sensation of dread that originates in a very deep recess of alice's chest, and in a cheap attempt at levity she forces herself to smile. a warm, gentle thing which she presses comfortingly into her knees, arms wrapped tightly to hug her legs in towards her chest. it appears in part as though she embraces herself so as not to let it escape her, as if, frightful, it might run off from her. an itch can be felt just behind her left temple, a growing discomfort: it would do to claw out her own eyes. she considers it a blessing that alia proves a blind spot for her, finding the future eluding her ββ though its inability to focus is aided by her own unwillingness to see, a cautious and meticulous effort being put into staving off the itch at her temple, gaze clouding and sharpening in a single moment's time. πππ ππππ πππ π πππ ππ ππππ€ πππ ππππ π πππ πππ. however it does, it cannot end well. no apollonian burden was required to see tragedy etched in the sincerity of alia's countenance.
β well. ... your resolve makes it sound simple. almost easy. but certainly decided. β she still wears her smile, a peculiar intermingling of horror and admiration in her expression, awkwardly contrasting and supporting the gentle shakiness in her tone. β you'd go to war for this ( Λ’α΅α΅α΅α΅βΏ α΅Λ’ α΅ α΅ α΅α΅Λ’α΅αΆ¦α΅βΏ ββ α΅αΆαΆα΅α΅α΅α΅βΏαΆ¦α΅α΅ α΅ΚΈ α΅ α΅α΅βΏα΅Λ‘α΅ αΆ α΅Κ³Κ³α΅Κ· α΅αΆ Κ°α΅Κ³ α΅Κ³α΅Κ· ) ββ you will, won't you? β
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