| — | (via throwmylifeawayforjustice) |
“A paradox. The irresistible force and the immovable object. The vine and the honey-bee: so many centuries of conflict! At the violet hour, two of Dionysus’ many faces. Entwined, symbiotic, in an orbit of hatred whose parabola describes fixated love."
"Back before that vile business with the Third City Priest-Kings, the pair were the closest of colleagues. But now they claw and hiss like cats in a sack.”
(art and inspiration from rukafais)
A lovely little tribute, eh? Lovely indeed.
“You describe the bond between the deviless and her pet in simple, evocative verse. The way the little creature used to nestle in her lap and chirp just for her. The way she really seemed to love him…”
Ah, bats! Ever useful, ever intelligent, ever adorable, even.
Well, it seems like you’ve had an exciting time! Indulgence will do that to you, delicious child. But you indulged, is the important thing. We make no comments as to the state or location of your soul, however. That is your own business. Despite souls coming in bottles, we have no jurisdiction over them.
Ah, lovely! A bit of Feast-cheer in the Tomb-Colonies, eh? I can’t say I don’t approve! We would do the same thing, if we were allowed to leave London more often, but alas. Our businesses keep us here, as ever.
Are we impressed by the Feast, delicious children? Have we been doing all manner of delightfully unsavoury things? Can we still formulate the barest hints of coherency?
