Lisa Bortiforte
She/Her
31
August 30
Camphrier Town, Kalos
Bi/Heteroromantic
Bioterrorist
Underboss
Bury me in the roses and rot; I'll come back thorned.
TAG WITH @elisabeth
Elisabeth Fiorelli
Transparent [M, EE]
POSTED ON Jul 12, 2022 13:27:08 GMT
[attr=class,elisafont] [googlefont=Meddon] Être Fleur Bleue [break][break] [break] No such fear of rejection held sway over Elisabeth. To be unwanted was a relief, in some ways. To be undesired was to be safe from the thrall of undesirable men. To be invisible and unseen was to remain free to act as you chose, while to be transparent... well. Cruel mouths could speak sweet nothings into existence easier than most. Although if Elisabeth were to be honest with herself, she had lost any right to call herself innocent a long, long time ago. You know better than this. A quiet warning from a part of her that was older and wiser, and that, like his expression of gratitude, went entirely unheeded. Her face tilted upwards towards his as a flower might turn towards the sun, no trace of villainy to be found in the graceful arch of her body as Elisabeth responded to his kiss in kind. Pale fingers found purchase on dark tresses, drawing him close so that there was no space left to breathe between them. In this single gesture of affection, as he had many times before, FERNANDO SILPH surprised her. How strange, for a man who she had been so hesitant to show affection to for so long -- one who insisted on his own selfishness, no less -- to possess such disarming gentleness. Her mind attempted to make sense of his motives only to surrender to its own self-serving desire for comfort. Why was this always her expectation, that men would be rough and coarse with her? It was a bitter question, one with a bitter answer. For this reason such sweet tenderness took her aback, wrongfooting her slightly, and she fully leaned into his embrace to steady herself. This vulnerability presented as simple unfamiliarity, the kind that might naturally find itself between two individuals that had danced around this moment for so many nights, speaking through soft static at a safe distance. So why had she bridged it at last, exactly? Was her own curiosity so great? Or was it the irresistible pull of some fateful thread, gleefully dragging her -- as always -- towards her own inevitable downfall? Perhaps it was because he didn't know her for what she truly was, in the end. And because Elisabeth didn't know him, not really, in any way that truly mattered. In the darkness, only the crystablooms glimmering in the night could be seen for what they truly were. [break] [break] [break] ✿[newclass=".elisafont b"]color: #7bb661;[/newclass]
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