#Beauty perishes in life but is immortal in art ;; LeBlanc IC

[angelicxlly]

{ LeBlanc's Tag Dump: }

• Beauty perishes in life but is immortal in art ;; LeBlanc IC • Truths & Roses have Thorns about them ;; LeBlanc Aesthetics • Persephone was mourning a Sea of Memories ;; LeBlanc Headcanons • Fragrant Petals between Grimoire Pages ;; LeBlanc Musings

[angelicxlly]

❀ (twins moment)

𝒜 𝒮𝓎𝓂𝒷𝑜𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝑀𝓊𝓈𝑒’𝓈 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 // 𝒜𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ❀ - Pulling them into a tight embrace whilst crying.

{ ♫ }

{ ⟡ } ———After lifting the velvety veil covering the portal & upon crossing through the Looking Glass, it would had seem as if the finely adorned mirror serving as welcoming door would had been changed places...

This was not the inviting & perfumed Rosarium with the buzzing flutter of thousands of whimsical critter, there wasn’t laughter coming from petite lungs nor crystal bells voices proclaiming greetings to receive her. There was no the chit-chatter of teacups nor the breeze whispering the secrets of birds.

Instead, what reigned there was overwhelming solitude & sadness across intangible trees, despite the sweetened scenery. It was all a melancholic illusion, as phantasmagorical blossoms of lustrous gold would take root everywhere, conquering every old furniture that seemed to be lost to time. The roaming of foxes, squirrels & ravens that weren’t really there across the dancing grass, peppered of wild flowers. The canopies of leaves gently rustling as the branches seemed to touch the skies, filtering sunlight down to the long path…

& suddenly the images of half a dozen of women dressed in delicate silks, dancing & singing in languages so ancient that could never be translated to any current human tongue. All of them wearing crowns of golden roses, with several little trinkets braided among ebony locks. Faeric & iridiscent, wings would flutter on occasion on their backs, if not resting as if those were a fine cape, all in harmonic glee when even more people would join them in their melodies as if a festivity would be held in this dream space… ...& yet the prevalent emotion that could be caught untangling would be tortuous nostalgia, as standing while giving her back to her, would be her Twin, watching them all dance & sing without intervening.

“You may probably call me a fool, & maybe I am.” Her voice betray no emotion, but it was a mere facade. A lie to Herself, knowing full well perhaps the closer they were, the tighter the bond. All that leaked from her were emotions of pure, unadulterated, sadness despite the faux giggle that dared to pass through her simper. “But I love to indulge a little bit… Dreams of the Garden, Memories of the Forest…”

There was familiarity to all of the faces from both the Nymphs whose features indubitably looked related to the Enchantress, as the many mages, druids, & common folk also celebrating. Music was played, with some missteps that the illusions seemed to not care for. “I apologize, I may be Immortal & can remember many old things, but for some symphonies I’m not able to replicate fully. My First Coven loved to add melody to their enchantments, & the Spring Equinox was always deemed sacred by our kind… I wonder if fate would had been kinder, if all would had ever meet, would had been this blissful as Earth would awake, as Roses would bloom once more?”

She would turn around to look at her twin, black tears staining across porcelain cheeks. Oh, her heart ached so terribly, & for a minute she felt concerned. If her ‘Sister’ could feel anything as strongly as she had done during their last conversation, the tale making her soul ache devastatingly & her own eyes to tear up ever so slightly at certain points where loss could not only be shared in the spawn of second, but also with terrible acknowledgment…

It was impossible to Emilia to wonder if her Twin feeling her pain would be crueler after the effrontery she had displayed just a couple of days prior. Suddenly her mask of tranquility, despite the ink falling freely upon her skin, would start to shatter.

“Emilia, I— " An apology caught on her throat as her Twin had come towards her & pulling her into an embrace oh-so tightly it let her breathless out of deep sentiment...

Silence reigned then, as if time had stopped & even the fantasy had loss the continuity out of a conscious mind. Only fake sunlight filtering through the trees, colored with hues of dusk. Only the subtle scent of wildflowers among their feet that weren’t previously there & differently from the blooms of the fantasy, those could be felt gently brushing against silks & skin. Oh, how her heart broke & shattered in a single second, yet it felt aided as she eagerly returned the embrace to her Twin, silently shedding her tears against her shoulder…

Grief was all-consuming, flowing through her veins within the boiling power stolen from the images of people dancing, now stopped in time as it all was a piltovian film. It was all sadness, as the songs would stop, as the laugher would be no more. It was all silent agony as she would allow the dream space to slowly melt. Grass & flowers withered away, critters disappearing with the people as the single mirage they were… all in a couple of blinks was replaced by what could be recognized as place among the catacombs of the Cabal… … All the Secrets of a Garden, ever hidden underground.

Only the dim light of candles would eventually return. Warm & real as the flames decorated the golden holders shaped as flowers. Many steps away, at the end of the stance that seemed to be a vast & secluded library from they truly were, was the Looking Glass, some Pixies sitting near & others resting among the many dark roses at the vases in the room.

“My apologies that you had to see me like this… or fall into one of my self deceptions & fabrications, I tend to fall into loops of remembrance, before I notice it, I’m lost to time…” Her Sisters, Her Coven, The Forest Incarnate… she wouldn’t lie if asked, & perhaps the bond allowed more than she may give it credit for, but their conversation may had opened her own wounds to the horrible truths of Loss, parsimoniously awakening the grasp of never-ending mourning upon the frail organ inside her chest…

She may not say it aloud neither, but the fact the Looking Glass had been brought in this personal space from its spot at the Rosarium, albeit covered from the other end & without any manner of communication, it had been an almost unconscious need of seeking company from someone she had chosen to deem as ‘family’ once more, after so so long.

Her arms tightened around her twin tighter, as more tears would be shed from her closing eyes, allowing herself a moment of weakness, a moment of sheer & genuine solace.

@blackrosesmatron ♥

[angelicxlly]

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉. — { @heredis-sanguinis }

{ ⟡ } ——— The endearment in the sweet nickname & how softly he had kissed her lips would deem her entirely silent. It was the tenderness of his hold & concerns, it was the sweetness & care poured upon her broken, powerless, form. The words calling upon her beauty, albeit if at first she had jested to lighten the mood & perhaps bait a compliment or two to feed her ego, had now moved her heart upon the sincerity in his voice. —& with every brush of his thumbs, it would be as if calling forth crimson & life to her otherwise sickly visage… & it wasn’t caused by no magic more than the one bonding their beating hearts together through centuries. The audacity~

“You truly look at me with Cupid’s Arrow painfully piercing through you, don’t you, Mon Amour?” Her tired voice would joke, yet find delight in the comforting & intimate gestures.

She had to consciously refrain herself from following more into his caresses & let go an undignified capricious plea out of her when his hands would move away from her face, yet immediately soothed by the contact remaining across on her arms. Albeit it made her flinch at the wounds & marks, as the poison in her body would reject any attempt to heal the damaged flesh, instead taking & drinking more & more as a greedy creature…

After all, her own nature perhaps would even play against his attempts, making it a little more difficult as an unexpected counter attack, especially when on normal occasions in the past, when petricide wasn’t in the equations, her silhouette would follow through his own instruction & ministrations, guiding it back into health with no single delay…

Perhaps, simply this occasion was trickier: A Mortal Body would form out of flesh by itself first, & blessed with sorcery afterwards; siphoning sorcery out of it would not diminish the body’s capability nor alter its stability…. But, a Nymph was Wild Magic on her own first, given a vessel of flesh by Nature itself afterwards & held together at its own seams by fine threads of golden power. It was less stable to heal on its very own without power flowing freely… & the petricide would make it far harder to resew the lose strings that would never deny him at other times.

Yet Emilia couldn’t help but appreciate her beloved’s attempts, noticing how his eyes would change shades to deep crimson, provoking a little pitiful & ashamed smile. “It's fine…” It wasn’t, but she would whisper regardless, almost melancholic, saccharine & condescending. A hand reaching up to touch his cheek ever-so gently. “… There’s no need for you to force it, Vovachka, I wouldn’t wish you to fall due exhaustion, & have us both bed-ridden.”

In contrast, however, the following mentions made her almost unladylike snort along her low chuckles. “Your sweet puppies are amazing guardians, & their hard-work is ever appreciated.” Fortunately for them, as she was lacking her magic meant no sudden bowties, top hats or waistcoats on the Drakehounds for once. Simply nodding at the expectations of his servitude fluttering around her upon calling was, more disliked in the reminder of her weakness even if it was an act of care. Centuries accustomed to be self-sufficient to be almost bed-ridden was going to need customary adjustment—

Her eyes suddenly opened in genuine wonder, albeit the glow of molten-gold was subdued to a darker hue, there was a hint of ever-vivacious attitude swirling underneath. Humming in contemplation, & her tone becoming a bit playful “You are still awfully assertive lately, that almost sounded as when I wasn’t allowed into the royal gardens’ fully by myself without a chaperon…. & a sweet Prince may offer himself to guide me, even if there would always be someone lurking regardless.” In her mind, the memory was clear & bright as if it had been yesterday, it was went their little attempts of secrecy written upon paper strips had started, or when she had picked upon the oddities of fan language from the aristocrats to convey messages to him too.

“But do not fret, dearest Dragon, I won’t stray too far from your Castle’s tower—,… I doubt for now I would be able to give a couple of steps even if I wanted to, before August or Carmine would alert you on something being wrong, or your dedicated servitude noticing the stumbling Matron on the halls... or you feeling it by yourself in that regard.” Her fingers would carefully move inside the collar of her silk dress to take out & look upon a heart-shaped pendant. Crimson blood flowing through clear crystal, silver wrapping around it as veins, one could almost swear it was about to beat ever-so softly—...

" —Is that how you knew I was hurt & needed help? Your Gifts?" She wondered as sinking a little more into the comforting pillows, trying to deny the way her body was aching. Tensed muscle, tired bones, heavy as a doll without strings. It was ridiculous, yet she stubbornly attempted to not show too much of it & pretend it wasn’t noticeable if keeping a caring eye. Despite being a deceiver & illusionist to many, a master of masking her true reactions & intentions to others, Vladimir had always come to be the one she didn’t feel the need to pretend or hide… … defeated, she had come to that conclusion long ago: he would know either way what lay beneath, wouldn’t he?

[angelicxlly]

A black and red bird, with a long thin beak, landed on a neearby windowsill. The peculiar animal had a third eye, above the others, in the middle of it’s head. To Emilia Leblanc, this animal was not unfamiliar to her. In fact, she had several of them as her own already, by gift of the Crimson Reaper, Vladimir.

Around its neck, a crimson ribbon with a rolled up paper was fastened.

The paper would read:

“Nb wvzivhg Nrwmrtsg Ilhv, dlfow blf rmwfotv nb dsrnhrxzo hrwv zmw qlrm nv zg lfi hvxivg olxzov rm gsv xirnhlm tziwvmh, rm gdl wzbh?

Gsv yriw rh z trug gl blf, zh zodzbh.

E”

{ ⟡ } — Aureate gaze glows in delight & joy as, with a swirl of one hand, ethereal golden letters would appear around her, as if ghosts waking up & rising upon calling from the delicate paper. It was inevitable not to paint an ever-amused smile upon nightshade-coated lips, as a playful & low chuckle would escape her. “Now, now… the ‘E’ is ever my clue, isn’t it? … How shall I call you, my not-so secret lover?” She questioned as rising her hand to caress the phantom letter, tracing it almost lovingly, making the vapors of magic & fantasy swirl along the notes of the classical melody around her. An antique Camavorian Waltz was playing at the gramophone, two of her pixie familiars dancing near it in a very familiar way …

“Enchanting? Everlasting? Eternal?” Her voice hummed with the tune, contemplative of every word. “Eloquent? Endearing? Entrancing?”

Finally, she felt a little blush crawl upon her ivory features, product of both the situation & probably his expression if he found himself with a plethora of new endearing nicknames provoked by this familiar manner of writing to each other. “& I’m only speaking in ‘common tongue’. Imagine only if I start thinking on other present & forgotten languages..”

Emilia could hear her pixies laughing, all fluttering curiously around the message writing itself in the air as the Enchantress decoded it patiently, ever starting by his Initial to a V.

“Now, Now!… To see me in two days on our favorite garden? —What are you even planning this time, Mon Lion? Hiding a secret from me as a shiny little treasure, what sort of surprises are you keeping in store for me, hmm? Attacking my most curious side, how daring, leaving me with no way to refuse~~ ♫” It was merely a faux sense of theatrics & drama, obvious on how her face was covered by unmasked joy & how her heart was oh-so pleasantly beating in anticipation.

With a last gesture of her fingers, the ghostly letters disappeared in smoke & dust of colorful hues, before the Matron would sit upon the windowsill of her office’s window, enjoying the touch of the delicate nightly wind as offering the awaiting bird her hand to perch & receive its rightful amount of pampering, dainty caresses upon the wondrous plumages of crimson and ebony would ever be the payment to such extraordinary emissaries of affection.

“& you, my new little darling… what shall I call you? —Perhaps a name starting with “E” may suit you~ ♥?”

@heredis-sanguinis ♥