illie, sap sipper
she/her
27
september 23rd
snowpoint city, sinnoh
bi curious
geneticist, alchemist
head professor
i used to have strength, but i ran out of hope. i know it's my fault that i'm here all alone.
TAG WITH @illeana
illeana reyes
crybaby
POSTED ON Jun 29, 2020 1:35:49 GMT
[attr="class","illiepost"] [attr="class","illieicon"] [attr="class","illie b"] [attr="class","illie i"]the temperature slowly begins to descend as the sun paints colors into clouds. pink into orange and orange into deep blue. dusk settles and with it comes the supposed witching hour. a gateway to realms, a time for magic and ghosts, apparitions and presences that flutter in the peripheral. and perhaps that's what draws them deeper into depths of the safari, deeper into the unknown and away from the fading touches of sunlight. everything settles with an eerie air the further they wander, the further her own ghost brings her. and somehow, it almost feels like home. an odd sensation that's halfway between worlds and yet closer to existing in a state of being. no pressure, no failure tainting actions, no grief weighing her down. only life and existence and the ever present feeling of eyes honed in on her back. a shiver brushes feathery fingers down a spine and she's slowly craning her neck to observe their surroundings. of course, this brings her face to face with the creature with eyes like scopes. the very ones that have been trained on her back since they shifted further into the shadows. she has to stifle a gasp if only to not wake the slumbering sobble at her shoulder, eyes wide as saucers. how long had this little thing been there? and is it real? or a trick of the light, of the shadows and the spirits that linger in netherworlds? "lovely evening," she whispers, voice not even attempting to rise any further in volume. no, there's a sleeping baby on her shoulder and the last thing she wants is to have to quell more tears. it'll only end in more... both from her sobble and herself. the dreepy stares at her, unmoving, unyielding, unblinking. she stares back. corners of lips quiver and quirk upward and the ghost of a smile finds its place on her face. and perhaps that's exactly what the ghost of a dragon wants to see. a spirit of a smile, an imprint left behind of a life form long since passed. it coos at her, small wispy body slowly drifting closer and closer until it, too, settles against her. and where the sobble had climbed his way onto her shoulders, the dreepy doesn't. instead, it'll nestle itself into the strands of her hair, tucking and wrapping itself into dark waves until it's a makeshift blanket fort and it's content and warm. a sigh escapes and they continue, a hand slowly rising to stroke at the dreepy's head once the automaton's clay limbs begin to move and creak again. [attr="class","illietag"]safari. capture attempt! [newclass=.illiepost] width:350px; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:justify; font-family:verdana; font-size:10px; padding-left:10px; [/newclass] [newclass=.illieicon] height:100px; width: 100px; float:left; padding-right:5px; [/newclass] [newclass=.illie b] color:#E37474; [/newclass] [newclass=.illie i] text-decoration: underline dotted #E37474; [/newclass] [newclass=.illietag] width:300px; text-transform:lowercase; font-family:georgia; font-size:12px; text-align:right; [/newclass] [newclass=.illiepoke] width:300px; text-align:right; [/newclass]
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