My muses aesthetics:
Jack: Thigh highs and thick sweaters, obviously stolen. Fluffy bunnies, pillow forts, glasses of warm milk and honey on a dark night. Fireflies, bumble bees and bright blue glows. Galaxies, deep dark tunnels beneath it all and ruined cities left overgrown that stab the starry skies. Poems curling from between lips like the smoke that brought their inspiration, curling up beneath sheltering plants while it rains and making friends with the small fluffy things in the underbrush while you wait. Bleached bones, rainbow glitches and the hum of machinery.
Nui: Flowing silk dresses with trailing ribbons worn with ripped fishnets and bloodied knuckles. Sleek cats, runways with bright lights, sips of cheap whiskey from a half hidden flask and hair freshly dyed. Things with teeth to sharp to be human, yet faces that almost are, soft pinks and deep lavenders. Ribbons, roses, knives and bruises nursed in the shadows of a motel booked at 3 am with the last of her cash. Sharp smiles and sharper sneers, the flick-click of switchblades being snapped open a little too close for comfort.
Cereza: Strappy heels and couture dresses, bought on a day out with her lady love. Powerful beasts, beautiful from afar and dangerous up close, all teeth and cunning. Lollipops and butterflies, bats and flamboyant cobras. Deep midnight blues and creamy hued purples, touches of silver against a backwash of moody and mysterious black. The sounds of bullet shells hitting the ground, glinting beneath shafts of unnatural sunlight, the smells of rosemary and sweets. Ancient words spoken in a misplaced time, peppered with shameless flirting and unladylike curses. Otherworldly feathers stuck to pale skin with drops of blood and sweat while the scent of gunpowder and brimstone hangs heavy in the air.
Mortem: Potion stained tee-shirts and ripped jeans that’ll never come clean again. Black beasts with fur and fangs that press their heads into your hands when they see you, herbal tea with too much sugar, left to go cold. Things scrawled in purple pen while fighting off sleep, magic words spoken with a stutter that carry more power then they should. The sounds of liquids bubbling on into the night and the thick steam they leave behind. Boxes of cartoon band aids, always purple and sometimes childish. Deep longing grays and soft violets, something earthy and herby you remember but just can’t place. Words spoken by someone small that keeps you up at night.
Ragyo: Bloodstained ballgowns and priceless gems that cast rainbow shadows. Chimera monsters that look almost familiar, until you get too close and see that they have too many teeth/eyes/whathaveyou. Practiced laughter that echos in a way that gives you chills, resting bitch face and heads held high. Platinum hair and off colored eyes, silver accents mingling with white gold and pastel rainbows. The sharp feeling of unease and awe-struck glances taken from bended knees. Bottles of rosé on long limo rides with people you used to care about, but now only make you feel sick. Painful kisses with bloodied lips and clawed hands that linger just a little too long.