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a collection of dragon dreams, oldtown winds, silver hair, green velvet, and the fictional people who occupy far too much of my mindΰΎΰ½²π€π―π¦’ Λq πΉ
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I was never meant to stay on the ground, I just lost my wings, and now i'm trapped somewhere I don't belong, I just need them back.
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there is something almost unreal about her, like an angel who somehow wandered too far from heaven. soft wings, pale light, and a presence that never quite feels human. she looks like she belongs somewhere beyond the clouds, somewhere eternal, where everything is quieter and nothing ever truly fades.
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It's less like a gown, more like something a dragon princess would wear while walking through the ruins of an ancient kingdom.
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βπβΛβΉβπͺ½real women want to dress like daenerys targaryen. soft, ancient, almost ethereal grey fabric draped across the body, gathered and twisted at the waist like it was made from smoke and moonlight. delicate straps, long flowing panels falling from the arms, dark metallic details holding everything togetherβ‘ΰΎΰ½²β
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