06-24-2019, 04:25 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: nyala; font-size: 9.2pt; line-height: 12px; color: #000"]Figures with human worn faces follow after a voice. A precious piece crafted of brimstones and hellfires, it knocks on every doors and walls; unholy hotel trembles. Behind words, familiarity is found, gently brushing against memories that were taken in moments like thisâ€â€when the lord would smile upon their followers with their teeth too soft / too sharp, eyes gleaming out of love / hatred, fingers twitching from nervousness / angriness; demeanor deformed all in the end.
Tender hand holding onto greedy hand, they surrounds themselves with the presences of blessed / cursed before they settle by staircase’s side. Though, the loner will only ignore and cross its arms at the group’s conditions, the lover will listen and hope for the best in the group’s future. Los Santos, with a name stained in red and purple / blood and bruises, was deemed a small group, yet, throughout the months, it continues to grow with roses; a garden it becomes that is made out of pretty eyes / edged teeth.
Through silence from the Druglord himself, warm soul leans closer to cold soul, their lovely fingers tucking the other’s shirt. When hazel eyes meet brown eyes, the lover speaks of honey and milk, “Got anything in mind for the Big Bad Bane to talk about, bud?†To them, between all of the glorious gold stained lines, there is only content. Excitement burns through celestial veins over what Los Santos has to offer, especially during this time of the group’s growth.
A shake of head the loner gives in response; a silent no. While it holds little care towards Los Santos in general, as long as it provides comfort and joy to the lover, it can tolerate it in a way that the lover can appreciate of. It begins to tap, tap, tap on floor, constant motion leaks impatience, crawling underneath its fidgety presence. Go, go, go. A whine pushes through dried throat and its chin fall onto the curls, seeking softness of the other.
The lover giggles at its small suffering and shakes their head, youthful eyes shining in childlike amusement. Always, is it on a rush, never really knowing how to breathe a little more softly. “Hey, relax, we have all of the time in the world,†they assures, giving the loner’s hand a kiss; a silent promise.
They glances back to Wolfsbane and smiles, giving him a thumps up. A man with silver bones and starlight heart. Certainly, do the lover believe he can make stars above burn brighter for him. For his people. “Gotcha, my dude!,†they says directly to the Druglord, their voice a bit more louder, filled with great energy.
At that, the lover and the loner leaves the main lobby to their roomâ€â€a piece of what they can call a home / shelter.
Tender hand holding onto greedy hand, they surrounds themselves with the presences of blessed / cursed before they settle by staircase’s side. Though, the loner will only ignore and cross its arms at the group’s conditions, the lover will listen and hope for the best in the group’s future. Los Santos, with a name stained in red and purple / blood and bruises, was deemed a small group, yet, throughout the months, it continues to grow with roses; a garden it becomes that is made out of pretty eyes / edged teeth.
Through silence from the Druglord himself, warm soul leans closer to cold soul, their lovely fingers tucking the other’s shirt. When hazel eyes meet brown eyes, the lover speaks of honey and milk, “Got anything in mind for the Big Bad Bane to talk about, bud?†To them, between all of the glorious gold stained lines, there is only content. Excitement burns through celestial veins over what Los Santos has to offer, especially during this time of the group’s growth.
A shake of head the loner gives in response; a silent no. While it holds little care towards Los Santos in general, as long as it provides comfort and joy to the lover, it can tolerate it in a way that the lover can appreciate of. It begins to tap, tap, tap on floor, constant motion leaks impatience, crawling underneath its fidgety presence. Go, go, go. A whine pushes through dried throat and its chin fall onto the curls, seeking softness of the other.
The lover giggles at its small suffering and shakes their head, youthful eyes shining in childlike amusement. Always, is it on a rush, never really knowing how to breathe a little more softly. “Hey, relax, we have all of the time in the world,†they assures, giving the loner’s hand a kiss; a silent promise.
They glances back to Wolfsbane and smiles, giving him a thumps up. A man with silver bones and starlight heart. Certainly, do the lover believe he can make stars above burn brighter for him. For his people. “Gotcha, my dude!,†they says directly to the Druglord, their voice a bit more louder, filled with great energy.
At that, the lover and the loner leaves the main lobby to their roomâ€â€a piece of what they can call a home / shelter.