withahandfullofdust-blog

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Nobody’s home. Go away.

#a handful of dust

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He was soothing, he reached for her hands, keeping them to their table as his thumb brushed delicately against the back of her left hand. Lucas was almost glad he didn't have such a dire flesh craving like his companion, otherwise the ample, soft skin would have been all too delectable for him to resist. "Shhh, no. You've read into this with those scars of yours. From the fall, I take it."

Lucas released her. "There are two types of monsters in this world: The ones that eat you up, and the ones that make you wish they'd take the bite. I'm afraid, judging by your hands, that you've only ever encounter the ones that wish to eat you." A soft, sad sigh escaped his lips.

"That is, until now. I wish to give you a fighting chance. Your...exposure has caused quite a bit of upset in my game, and I don't take kindly to hiccups. I will make you want to die. I will torture you, I will be that crow picking at your being until there's nothing left - starting with those pretty blue eyes. And the only way I will stop, the only chance you have of fighting back," Lucas leans forward. "Is for you to get close to Acus, in whatever means you see fit. When this is achieved you'll have peace of mind - then I'll come with questions only you will be able to answer." As an afterthought. "And I want an audience with your Snow before she, too, ruins my fun."

Lucas held out his hand to shake. "Do we have an agreement?"

#wishvictims

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He smiles. It was a kind smile at first, too, the type you would expect to see exchanged between two friends. "I do. Humans are born into this world with closed fists. So tight, in fact, that the skin has no choice but to fold against its wishes. We grasp onto things before we know we want them, experience disappointment when those hands are met with fingers and in our anger, more lines begin to grow."

Lucas uncurled his fingers one at a time in front of her, showing each line, each disappointment during his very long life within the tiny pits and scratches and scars. "To wash the blood from your hands." He relaxed, his hands pressed down to the table. "I love the imagery. Because blood doesn't stain the skin, little one, it burns it. Like acid. Fortunately that is for the one who directly spills it. Indirectly, however..." His smile twisted. "That leaves a whole new mark entirely. And you, you're covered with them."

#wishvictims

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"Hands tell honest stories, would you agree?"

#wishvictims

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"You don't sound certain of that." Lucas replied in his normal, calm drawl of a voice. His patience was not tested by the ginger mans babbling, nor were his interests piqued. He was simply...present. "Such a shame, I don't believe in painting something a color that it is not. People should have the choice of admiring it for it's exactness; not save it, not change it.

Lucas." With this he presented his hand in polite greeting. "And you ...are a long way from home."

#marchhaigha

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#wishvictims

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#a handful of dust

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"You boys and your obsession with the queens color." He mumbled. "One loathing and the other embracing. How cumbersome for you both. Hope it doesn't result in a quarrel."

Painting the roses red We’re painting the roses red We dare not stop Or waste a drop So let the paint be spread We’re painting the roses red We’re painting the roses red Oh, painting the roses red And many a tear we shed Because we know They’ll cease to grow In fact, they’ll soon be dead And yet we go ahead Painting the roses red

#marchhaigha

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#a handful of dust

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#//omg #just omg #a handful of dust

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#a handful of dust

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follow  :  http://human-violence.tumblr.com/

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"Hence my notation of the silence. People around here speak enough for the both of us. Though their words may be improper representations, the noise itself is constant."

Don't tell me this is the lull before the storm

You don’t seem like the type to make much noise.

[withahandfullofdust-blog]

#a handful of dust #sleeping queue

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He examines the cupcake, keeping it at eye level where he can view both the dessert and woman should he so desire. "Silly me." Lucas doesn't make a motion to eat the cupcake, instead lowering it so he may continue talking to the giggling woman. His guess? One too many servings of children. "Lucas, I write children's stories. Pleased to meet you, Wanda. Is this all you make?" At least they shared a little something in common.

[Bounces.] Actually, I’m quite good with pain. [sticks out a cupcake] I’m Wanda. I serve children. [Coughs] I mean- I won’t be biased since you’re grown up- I’ll serve anyone, really. That’s just my… trademark.

#cupcake-cannibal

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"Thriving and calming aren't one in the same." If he breathed in any deeper, the sigh that was to escape his unimpressed lungs would have been uncharacteristically loud. Rib shaking, even. Being calm in a war zone told him more than he wished to know, that the man in front of him experienced a pleasant disconnect with imminent death. Someone with an ego, someone who thought themselves above their opponents and judging them incapable of taking him down.

Lucas watched a moment longer. "You paint fire with your words. It's quite an alluring trick. Most call it being silver tongued, others, like myself, have always taken notice to the spark that precious silver metal creates when pressed against teeth." He took to his thoughts. "Quite the conundrum you've brushed out for me. Calm in disaster, but unable to thrive."

Don't tell me this is the lull before the storm

“That I thrive in silence?” He scoffs, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he does. “Hardly. It’s all rage and disquiet for me. War sounds is what calms me…”

He gives the man a long, calculating stare, then his mouth forms an out of place smile. “As for thriving…not familiar with the notion.” His voice is casually sardonic, the bitterness in eerie juxtapose to the genuine smile on his face.  

#scaleandneedle #//omg forgive me if this is bad. My brain is like LOL IT'S MIDNIGHT STOP TALKING. #and I'm like NO BRAIN SHUT UP I CONTROL YOU #lol we both know I have no control over my noggin goop

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"Your threshold for pain is terribly low."

WHO THE FUCK INVENTED CONTACTS?!

I’M GOING TO SCRUB THEIR FLESH OFF AND MAKE THE BEST GODDAMN CHOCOLATE SOUFFLE-

[stops. Straightens.] Ahem. Excuse me. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to THE BURNING PAIN of eyesight correction.

#cupcake-cannibal