Isolde.

⠀⠀ 𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐇͟𝐄͟𝐀͟𝐕͟𝐈͟𝐄͟𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍. 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐁͟𝐋͟𝐎͟𝐎͟𝐃͟𝐈͟𝐄͟𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑. ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

⠀
⠀ ⠀ Ф 𝘐 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦, ⠀
⠀ 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦
𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦.
⠀

[Dustin @justkrastyo]

Well yes when I download a game I want to play a game. If a good book comes with it too hell yeah but it’s a game first and foremost

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

@Klara_Vingler99 || Uh… welp.

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

|| I’ve been waiting 2 years for a commission I ordered to get past the sketch phase, am I cooked? 😔

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

“And, yet…”

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

“I can hear their applause, and their cheering… Oh, how they love me!”

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

Damn… I’m really doing numbers with that

[Rokilly @Rokilly]

#Elucevanlestelle #Isolde
#Reverse1999 #リバース1999

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

@Klara_Vingler99 Both hands holding Kakania's one, she steps closer to her doctor, and those eyes, though they might peer through Kakania rather than at her, those words she sang... it would be foolish to say that she was just singing to the air.

"Fior di giglio... e di rosa...🎶"

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

Oh, Doktor... das war meine Schuld...

Dein Traum hat mein leeres Leben mehr Bedeutung gefüllt.

... Du hast mich... davor bewahrt nur ein verfluchtes Gefäß zu sein.

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

@Klara_Vingler99 "Tu? Tu? Tu? Tu?... 🎶
Piccolo iddio... Amore, amore mio..."

Though the song did not wane, her voice didn't carry the volume or octaves that might come from an operatic performance. If not for the wavering sing-song flow of her voice, she might be considered to be whispering.
--

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

@Klara_Vingler99 All the world's a stage, and this here a mere player, a vessel with but an entrance and exit, who in her time plays many parts. She meets Kakania's eyes; Isolde's are happy and alive. And yet, they go on for miles...

"Proprio nel punto, che ognun diceva:
piangi e dispera! 🎶"

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

@Klara_Vingler99 made was without mistake or error, like it were all practiced before many times, preparation for a performance on the stage, but tonight, there is only one member in the audience.

"Vedi lo scimunito tuo dubbio?
È giunto! è giunto... 🎶"
--

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

@Klara_Vingler99 deep breath, and her nerves quell. She sings, soft, with a songbird’s soprano.

“Non son più quella—
Troppi sospiri la bocca mandò,
E l'occhio riguardò,
nel lontan troppo fiso…”

[Isolde. @OperaInTheStorm]

@Klara_Vingler99 Isolde holds onto Kakania’s hand with both of her own, head bowed and gaze sunk to the floor, like she expected answers to come from her feet. Isolde’s chest sputters as a ragged, shaky breath comes next, as though at the cusp of tears - she doesn’t cry, though. She takes a
—