solid gold, fourteen carat, barely burnished despite twenty years of hard molling. but beneath it, i knew, beneath that gold & stardust, she was all grit and sharp teeth gnashing, head twisting, talons out, tearing flesh.
make me queen
private, selective, independent blair waldorf.
or i'll make you bleed
you have to decide who you are, little girl, she told me once. once you know that, everyone else will too.
BLAIR WALDORF WAS A MASTERPIECE — the peach in her cheeks, the soft shading behind collar bones delicate jut. admiring beauty is one of life’s greatest pleasures and aria has never been one to DEPRIVE herself. at least that how she explains the lingering glance; how a simple glimpse of silk flesh has cervine hues smoldering, breath hitched on the pad of damp tongue. ❝ that depends, are you going for heart attack inducing or just regular, old palpitations? ❞
satisfied grin paints baby-doll features , slender arms reaching to tug sheer ivory robe back over her shoulders - ❛ cardiac arrest , actually . ❜ smirk infiltrates her response as she falls back against over-stuffed duvet : ❛ NOT THAT i have any reason to wear something like this , as of late . ❜
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