Gunslinger, 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞.

Little black dress. 🖤

She's walking in the corner with a body wrapped in a knee-length dress, her eyes scanning the room. Her hair was styled in loose waves and flowed down her back like a waterfall. Her dress hugged her curves in all the right places, showing off her figure. As she walked towards the hall's center, heads turned, and eyes followed her. Her confidence and poise were evident in her every step, and she carried herself with an aura of elegance. Even the music seemed to slow down to match her rhythm.

In a world filled with hashtags. She was a poem, with words that needed space to breathe.

It seems bleak to sweep away peace—expiry of a prickly endeavor now reduced to the ashes of devotion. Clean up the fuss owing to a glorious final victory. Gunshots echoed through the air, signaling an invasion. The people of Battle Peace cheered. Herewith, I, Carabellè Turner would like to express my gratitude for all the awards given to heroes who have become one of the pride of celebrating world peace in all its forms. By joining Ashes and following the rules of 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐕𝐨𝐥 𝐈𝐈 at @weekfest on July 15th without fortune. 𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗞𝗙𝗘𝗦𝗧's 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑪𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 smolder.

She was close, close enough to be your ghost.

The time spent around the table after dinner, talking to the people you shared meal with; time to digest and savor both food and friendship.

You can checkout anytime you like, but you can never leave.

He was strumming my pain, he was singing my life. Killing me softly with his song, telling my whole life with his words.

📍 Saint Petersburg, Russia.