Imagine a fae who is just so mad about the idea of lying, like, I have spent a thousand years studying the subtle arts of deceit, weaving my spells of glamour and misdirection, and you, human, can just stand there and
do other countries have a holiday where they make a crap load of delicious food and that’s all that they eat for the next few days until they hate the food they made
if I don’t get bit by a vampire and turn into a gorgeous immortal woman with questionable morality, irresistible charm, and enthralling mystique then what’s the point
persephone's corner 