❛ birthday. ❜ at first, he begins with a matter-of-fact statement that sounds almost as if there’s nothing more coming after it; his eyes glaze over by a sheet of soft wonder, gentleness, good wishes. he smiles, then, a strange brightness falling over the decrepit ivory of pallid features, and speaks again, finishing off what was supposed to be a sentence. ❛ happy day ♪ ❜
they’re a ghost, a blight upon stories that smudges the pages of fate & even the final call of the magpie could not stop his tumultuous existence from propelling into what was already written. loki, the harbinger of destruction, FIEND OF CHAOS has grown wearier of the titles that wrung him like a noose, & so in self interest, toed the path of heroics.
in this world torn between the FESTERING hel of humanity & the bits of goodness that bloomed in the fray, he found himself caught in the midst of the ruins, the empires built by men who gorged themselves on power & the goodness that loki thought died long ago. so children, raised on blood & savage nature their stories must have been penned by the same author.
‘ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs… ᴋɪᴅ. ’a hollowness is filled, that STARVING VOID that threaten to engulf them is gone for just a moment. there is no final crow of dawn, no sprawling fate to fulfil l but just the fresh smells of the migard delicacies of american breakfast.
liar liar liar liar liar cries the tongues of fate
