o no, it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is the star to every wand'ring bark, whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
|| AMES | xxvi | they/them • fae/faer || shapeshifter • hopeless writer • fantasy romantic • star gazer • book hoarder • constant work in progress
[ID: Illustration of a young white woman, Blythe, with long blonde braided hair in a yellow floral dress, and a young white man, Sirian, with tousled brown hair wearing a crown and green robes with a serpent design. Sirian is holding a sword in one hand and Blythe’s necklace in the other with a smirking expression. Blythe has one hand on his shoulder, and is raising a dagger to him with the other, an uncertain/irritated expression on her face. /end ID]
Full color commission for @starnymphs of their characters Blythe and Sirian. Thank you!
“She reminded me of a certain kind of rose she grew in the garden, called Pristine. It was white with a trace of pink around the outside, and when you picked it, the petals all fell off.”
