carpe noctem | stiles stilinski 
❝Gun in hand; kill or be killed? ❞
One who chase after illusions, they sometimes tends not to realise what's right infront of them. Ethereal she was, a sight for sore eyes, not a lily but a plain daisy - soft white washed petals, peeling off with every sunrise, yet beautiful - to some. Alice Devlin was a monument, embedded with emeralds on golden vapor, built from the scratch of a black obsidian stone.
It all began with illusions. Her head too high in the clouds, too high that illusions became her really.
But, it was that one night, freezing winds and rustling trees led her straight to her mighty fall - an illusion turned to real life. It was the day Alice knew that sometimes, even though one did not believe in, did not mean it does not exist. And it did exist, wonderland it was. But nothing stays permanent, not even wonderland.
❝I've been numb my whole life, it's not strange anymore. ❞
[Copyrights © 2016 Darsha]