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#⃟ ⠀⠀⎯┈ 𐔌ི༏ྀ꣓ ·⠀
"Le bonheur, c'est ce que je partage... pas ce dont j'ai faim.
"Puissions-nous avancer, voir la vérité et nous y noyer."
ֺ ི᭨ᩧྀ . ｡ ───━╉⠀
Holding the blood of royalty carries not only remarkable miracles but also profound tragedies; the entwined destinies of Amédée and “Jean,” two souls tainted to one another, have been formed relentlessly for the tear-love of a child-like angel, shaped by the whispers of fate, echoes in refrain. Whispers have drained them to thrive like doves, dwelling deep in the embrace of melancholy, similar to a "forbidden" expression. Yet, despite the heavy burdens, the wilting black lily and the orchestrated white lily boldly blossom.
It blooms with defiance, swallowing with gluttony, even with condemnation.
Will love continue to flourish even as vines and branches begin to swallow what remains?
Or will the haunting memories of their story be made from an angel’s hands and wings?
Will it all become faded words in a book, entrapped in the echoes of their celestial past?