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Kushiel's Bedchamber

*~Broken Petals in the Fire...~*

Created on 2005-12-08 15:17:55 (#8983092), last updated 2009-07-07

426 comments received, 626 comments posted

Basic Info
Name:Natalia
Birthdate:09-11
Location:Surrey, United Kingdom
Bio
♥'You can spend minutes, hours, days, or weeks over-analysing a situation or trying to put the pieces back together, justifying what you could've, would've done...or you can just leave those pieces on the floor and move the f*ck on.'♥


:)

No one would deny that I have known hardship in my time, brief though it has been for all that I have done in it. This, I think, I may say without boastfulness. I have been the plaything of a barbarian warlord, and I have lost my dearest friend to an eternity of lonely isolation. I have seen the horrors of war, and the deaths of my companions. I have walked, alone and by night, into the vast darkness of an enemy encampment, knowing that I gave myself up to torture and nigh-certain death.


It was the sangoire cloak that decided me; Melisande's challenge and the badge of my calling that marked me as an anguissette, Kushiel's Chosen, as clearly as the mote of scarlet emblazoned since birth in the iris of my left eye. A rose petal floating upon dark waters, some admirer once called it. Sangoire is a deeper colour, a red so dark it borders on black. I have seen blood spilled by starlight; it is a fitting colour for one such as I, destined to find pleasure in pain...

Phedre no' Delaunay de Montreve


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'Beauty is a manifestation of the divine...' - Dangerous Beauty


‘Veil after veil of thin dusty gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. The wan mirrors get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book that we had been studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the letter that we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often. Nothing seems changed. Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known.’ - Oscar Wilde


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