WolfSol
Brain cashew smooth
I'm just gonna test some scenes, ideas, and the like here that may or may never see the light of a word document.
Feel free to give a wee comment, feedback, or what not! I'll try and list any TWs as forewarnings.
Also, I realize I have a weird fancy with the use of cold temperatures, autumn, and dead leaves... heh heh.
Stoic Heart.
Autumn was a summoner of death. It craved for it as much as a blade or bullet craved warmth. It invited the Grim Reaper with open arms and a cold so wicked that it dwelled within bone. Wet leaves, carcases of gold and orange, littered the ground like bone fragments. They fluttered against the cold ground, and splintered and fractured underneath boots. And in the wake of the autumn winds and the summoning of death, the Reaper came like the first snowfall.
Amelia’s eyes met his own, trapping both his breath and soul. Her gaze was a silk blade, steely and alluring, a green so pale and so vibrant that it almost looked opalescent. With flecks of ruddy reds and acrid yellows dancing along the pupil, framed with long lashes and cropped with narrow brows that furrowed constantly. Something akin to cold apathy twirled in her eyes, and when she pulled her attention back to the dead man at her feet, her eyes crinkled underneath the weight of a humorless smile.
Feel free to give a wee comment, feedback, or what not! I'll try and list any TWs as forewarnings.
Also, I realize I have a weird fancy with the use of cold temperatures, autumn, and dead leaves... heh heh.
Stoic Heart.
Autumn was a summoner of death. It craved for it as much as a blade or bullet craved warmth. It invited the Grim Reaper with open arms and a cold so wicked that it dwelled within bone. Wet leaves, carcases of gold and orange, littered the ground like bone fragments. They fluttered against the cold ground, and splintered and fractured underneath boots. And in the wake of the autumn winds and the summoning of death, the Reaper came like the first snowfall.
Amelia’s eyes met his own, trapping both his breath and soul. Her gaze was a silk blade, steely and alluring, a green so pale and so vibrant that it almost looked opalescent. With flecks of ruddy reds and acrid yellows dancing along the pupil, framed with long lashes and cropped with narrow brows that furrowed constantly. Something akin to cold apathy twirled in her eyes, and when she pulled her attention back to the dead man at her feet, her eyes crinkled underneath the weight of a humorless smile.
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