
πββοΈπββοΈπββοΈπββοΈ

πββοΈπββοΈπββοΈπββοΈ

if ianthe tridentarius knelt beside you then, no matter with what sugary contempt or filigreed third condescension, you would press your diminished bloody terror into her; you would creep naked into her lap, shamelessly, and weep.


the 9th saint to serve the emperor undying + the first flower of her house π₯π‘

evil stick!

pieta π₯




sketchies. i am crazy but i am freeeeee.