𝕬̲

⠀ ⠀ a warm smile blooms on odessa’s lips,  she a flower in her own right.  one hand copies his gesture,  hovering above her heart as if cradling it.  despite making no contact she feels it beat  —  hard and loud,  not in fear but as if eager to meet his.  with their other hand,  they slowly reached for him,  placing a warm hand over his,  a moment of connection odessa was unaware they craved.  
            ⠀ ⠀ “  you  are  not  gruesome  nor  ghastly.  you  are  nature  —  pure  and  untainted.  ”  her thumb brushes along his hand,  her fingers wrap around it gently.  “  i  have  seen  far  too  many  with  wickedness  in  their  hearts  —  you  have  none.  i  can  assure  you  of  that.  ”

@fawneyes  ✶
            “no  kinder  words  have  ever  been  spo—-ken  to  the  likes  of  something  as  gruesome  as  i.”   a  large  hand  would  hover  on  his  chest —- above  where  a  heart  that  seemed  so  cold  and  unforgiving  would  flutter  and  beat  beneath  strong  ribs,    like  a  caged  butterfly;   full  of  hope  it  may  one  day  taste  the  freedom  and  crisp  air  it  wishes  for.   what  saves  man —- a  poem  it  could  be,   a  poet  they  were.    “you  are  the  agreeable  warmth  of  spring,    flowers  bloom  where  the  soles  of  your  feet  capture  the  earth.    you  cra—-dle  nature  in  forgiving  arms,    even  the  most  ghastly  of  its  crea—-tions..” 

@aeonics  ✶
            /    says  the  person  w  the  most  HEAVENLY  theme!!   HIII!!   THANK  YOU  SM  THOUGH!!  

*    pls any!

/ gggulps......hhi....

/  pls  ‼️

☈【 @monstraum 】☈
            
            Victoria listens to him search for words the way one listens for a heartbeat through fabric — patient, attentive, never interrupting the rhythm.
            
            When he calls her kind, something flickers behind her eyes. Not pride. Not relief. Something heavier “kindness,” she says softly, “is often just restraint.”
            
            She doesn’t look away as he studies her face. If anything, she allows it — the way she would allow a patient to examine the hands that intend to operate. Transparent. Unhidden.
            
            “You believe I use my hands only to fix,” she continues, lifting one gloved hand slightly between them. “That is a generous assumption.”
            
            A faint pause “these hands learned from the same man who built you” there is no defensiveness in the statement. Only truth.
            
            When he trembles, she notices that too — the tension beneath the strength, the careful way he holds himself upright as though daring the world to call him monstrous again.
            
            She steps closer — slowly, deliberately — close enough now that the torchlight catches the stitching at his throat and the faint scar hidden behind her ear.
            
            “I do not fear you,” she says, her voice lowering. “I fear what was done to you” her gaze lifts to meet his fully “and I fear,” she admits, almost inaudibly, “what I am capable of becoming if I stop choosing differently.”
            
            “If you wished to harm me,” she says gently, “you would have already” her hand rises — not touching yet — hovering near his wrist, offering the decision to him “you are not the only one learning how to live in a body that was decided for you.”

he    trembled,     brows    lowering.     it    seemed to     understand    as she    repeated,    she    was not   afraid —- that    she may    offer a    safer  environment    for  him to    flourish;     like    the tales    in old    dusty books    he’d    read over-and-over    again,     of    faraway lands —- distant;    unobtainable    to something   as ugly as    he..     but    lands   and characters    that offered    sanctuary   for   the troubled.   
            
            “you    don’t   fear    me.”   

@StaticVeins-  ✶
            the    familiarity of    her gaze,    that   sharpness   and hints    of cruelty  something    cast upon   him from   the moment    he was  brought into   this world of    pain and    never-ending    suffering.
            
            such    relatability   expressed by   victoria was   lost to    him;     so   used to the    scrutiny  hidden within      sincerity.    patch-work    hands clenching,     an    uncertain and    reluctant turn of    his head to    face  her —- soothed    from his headspace of    resentment  and simmering    sadness    by the  sweetened    voice  of   victoria. 
            
            he   watched as   she stepped closer;    examining    him.   the    creature    felt exposed,   like    he should    hide away —- or    shield  himself from    the possibility   of judgement.   instead,    it    stood tall,    mimicking   the confidence    she carried   in her    posture  and stance —- carefully    dragging   his   focus to   her    facial    features..    hues    memorizing   her complexion;      every   quirk  and    movement of her    lips as    she    spoke..    a    curious   monster    he was.
            
            “my     own.”    repeated    adam,    having   trouble finding    its reply.   vocabulary   still  scattered;    brain    searching desperately   through    pages of    books,    if    there were   any words    he could    recall to    use.   “you—- are     not as     rotten   as he;     not    as   cruel   and     spite—-ful.     you    are..    kind.    you    use your     hands    not to    create,     but  to    fix.”    

@blqndiee   ✶
            “apologies—-unnecessary.   it  was not   my inten—-tion  to   be seen.    please,    let   me remove myself    from your    presence.”   the   creature would    say,    long   stitched fingers   adjusting    the mask that     obscured much   of his face..   tufts of    fur on    his   coat’s hood    billowing in     the wind.   

their weariness dispersed the moment ymir truly took in the others appearance.  oh  —  the man was freezing!  the teen often forgot that not all people were immune to the harsh temperatures of his lands.  worry quickly took over their expression as he gave a quick nod.  was this allowed?  no.  did he care?  also no!
            
            "gods  ,  you are trembling!  yes  —  I can provide that!  somewhere much warmer than this  —  come  ,  come  ..  "  he motioned the other forward  ,  sending a pointed stare towards his guard.  he would not leave anyone to freeze  ,  even if it was against the   '  rules  '   to aid foreigners.
            
            ymir held out a hand  —  an offer for the other to grab it.  it was mostly out of fear that the mans body would give out on him  ,  but also so they could share the warmth of his powers.

@frostalons-  ✶
            “re—-st.”     though   the creature   seemed  large and    alien enough    to  not require    such   human   necessities,    he   seemed   exhausted —- his    body trembling    beneath the    heavy furs    and cloth   that covered his    appearance.  “could    you    pro—vide    this?”   his   words fell messily   from his   freezing   lips,    snow collecting    atop eyelashes.     gaze flickering   tiredly to   the guard..    then   back towards    the prince.  
            
            /   YOUR  CAT  WAS  TRYING  TO  WRITE!   that’s  so  cute  

   /     ..  ?" *  ( not even joking  ,  my cat hit the send button before I finished the sentence ☠️ )

@feufatale  ✶
            /   AA!   not  as  obsessed  as  i  am  w  u!!