今日波路克斯剧院中什么血族都有。一文不名的新贵,一毛不拔的贵族,一文不剩的落魄贵族。剧院是精致和人造辉煌的高级结晶,复古立柱上雕满了巴洛克式的装饰,给观众一种贴近梦幻的感觉——一种似乎荧光的梦幻和贵气的结合体。不,观众们并没有为微妙的美学而来,他们期待绝对的、昂贵的感官刺激,以及剧院不变的主题:观赏和被观赏。
今日波路克斯剧院中什么血族都有。一文不名的新贵,一毛不拔的贵族,一文不剩的落魄贵族。剧院是精致和人造辉煌的高级结晶,复古立柱上雕满了巴洛克式的装饰,给观众一种贴近梦幻的感觉——一种似乎荧光的梦幻和贵气的结合体。不,观众们并没有为微妙的美学而来,他们期待绝对的、昂贵的感官刺激,以及剧院不变的主题:观赏和被观赏。
I hear a red herring bone falling
Falling into the shallow sea
Send me to the emerald clouds
Undream me in soulless fantasies
When I was alive
I used to think love lasts forever
Ashes & love, & lemon peels
Dandelion dust
这幅静谧而内容模糊的黑森林卷轴从第二纪高层改组,议会制度建立之初就屹立不倒地挂着。火灾、天界不成功的侵略战争、三代的谋反……或许这片雾蒙蒙的黑森林才能比约书亚还淡定,比维图里还永恒。它也是勒托里亚体制的现实体现——一方面是绝对法制的公选议会制,另一面是矛盾的亲王的绝对权威与领主们根深蒂固的影响力。
中洲,密党,甚至九界,在哪里不是大同小异——所以又怎么样呢。
It’s inhumane to be human
Never left a candle unattended
Some might fly by stealing a taste
In the dark in the dark
Nicotine caffeine dopamine
Those are my favourite things
Hooks and hookah
I miss my e-cig and my Lumina
Love, how lovely, what a waste of time and resources. How nice of you to fall into the muddle holding a plastic imitation of laurel branch, to fell in love with love itself, and never really get up from the little pond of slimy mud.
Moon on a stage made for fools
Can’t fall in love with love itself
Can’t trip over anything else
So together, we fell
This cloud looks like...a cloud
Everything in the sky
Mishmash patchwork
Where people lived as it is
蓝月刚刚上午,穿着正装的三派代表们陆陆续续地向正西翼的抽象式建筑,三重议事厅中庭一层的最高法院聚集。是什么事务让这些血族从中洲自己的领地上纷纷突然聚集到此呢?受害者是虚无派N党主要领导人,阿诺德 欧克拉翰IV这个学院派的盲眼贵族代表被发现死在了自己在但泽的庄园中。虽然疑似是自杀,然而身边只有血奴管家作为唯一的可能目击者,嫌疑人或证人。
Sing of beauty by the eternal spring
Ginkgo silversmith ash birch trees
Since we are still full of life
Drink of red as lesser ones drink wine
Home of parlour jazz, Al Capone and bastardized Bauhaus,Chicago is like a real existing dystopian metropolis, written in haste from a scruple between the editor and a frustrated second-grade pulp teen novel author.
International bulletproof spaceshipwreck. It’s fine; it’s fun.
There is a mummified cat in the museum.
THERE IS A MUMMIFIED CAT TROTTING IN THE MUSEUM.
Well whatever, forget about it.
Refined, attentive, and always ice-coldly cool, that’s what Atzamof was. This smug little bugger has been striding around the world since the last millennium.
He used to be something, but never in love.
A short story featuring a feline smug thug and a divorced historian striding around Cairo like it’s nobody’s business. Picture purrfect for laughter and fluff.
In the middle of the night
All light are Lucipurr
Tonight we sing in alexandrine
Stealing alexandrite in Alexandria