Stories Of The Subconscious

𝐽𝑎𝑛𝑒 & 𝐸𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑟: 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑

Two sapphic lovers in the 19th century. Both in a high social class but Jane is higher up than Eleanor.
They must secret lest they be hanged for crimes against the court.

The love they share is nothing less of poetic. It was a perfect summers breeze sweeping over there tan skin as they sat in the fields, brighting the night with the glow of their warmth.
Watching the stars as it seemed to be painting their moments of intimacy in vibrant colors, as bright as the yellow sunflowers woven into the plaits of their hair, as lively as the sun that shone down on their skin making them gleam in luminescent tones. For they were not to be shown in any other light as the adoration they held and the yearning they felt was anything but dull. 

They were expressionism art that comforted the disturbed and disturbed the comfortable. An abstract piece that made the mundane recoil and engrossed the unusual. It was like this for what felt like eternity and they were fully content to keep it that way.

Seems the weight of their desire was too heavy for the hands of fate to hold.

Jane was to be wed to the heir of Enison.

It shattered the self-made portrait they created on the canvas sewn by their carefully crafted hands. The paint forged of misspent tears and irreligious seed.

The love fashioned from the damaged pieces of their ruptured soul, fragmented by the same people who crafted their skin and sculpted their bones to unwilling fit into the cast fabricated from the depths of their subconscious.

The feeling of contentment and imperishable longing , handed to them by Aphrodite herself, was torn away by the cruel hands of reality that they should have noticed was inching towards them since their fondness had bloomed.

Jane was set to marry a man she didn't love and Eleanor was forced to watch as the flame that settled deep in her spirit, the one that had longed it's entire existence to find it's mate, dwindle until it was nothing more than smoke and red ash.