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SOME HEARTS ARE MARK’D BY FATE / 🫀
Ere ever they entwine;
Ere love doth stir,
The silent cards are cast.
& when the mystic deck
It's counsel doth unveil.

It whispers but one name — Ellamière.
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DRAW A CARD, FATE UNFOLDS AS WRITTEN
WHERE SILENCE SPEAKS, & TH' HEART ALIGNS

Fervor / Lustre / Oracle; Within the heart,
There is always something unspoken. 🫀
Hearts seldom stir without cause; they roam and seek, drawn toward places that feel uncannily known, as though destiny had long since set its seal upon them. Perchance it was that same quiet summons that guided thine eyes hither—a subtle whisper telling thee this card was fated to find thee; for oftentimes the heart doth not choose the card, but the card, in its appointed hour, chooseth the heart.

FOLLOW THE CARD’S UNSEEN PATH
Thus seal it with thy heart; for it is here that the heart awakens to its choosing. All doubt dissolves, and the heart is left in sacred stillness.
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SEVERAL HEARTS ARE MARKED
UPON THE CARDS / FATE-BOUND
LORÈ KEEPS ONE ARCANE AND UNSEEN. 🫀

THE AUGURY OF HEARTS / Within a love ensorcelled behind the cards that decree fate, crimson as sacrificial blood, an undying vow lingers.

Five hearts are required, and in return, five cards shall whisper their omen. A gilded rite—exceedingly scarce, near mythic. Seek the tidings through @EllamiereBot. Thus your fate slumbers behind the cards yet to be revealed; close your eyes, and let the murmuring voice unveil the portents — @Ellamiere.
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Day one LORÈ mutual subs-for-subs, kinda nervous. Let's gaurrr! Can we ask for help forwarding?

Let us weave a gentle bond subs-for-subs—and in time, we shall softly unveil the tarot cards for you, Chaotic Souls! 🫀

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Love’s decree hides quietly among enchanted cards, where every turn of fate murmurs secrets far too delicate for any human tongue. She does not simply read the symbols—she listens to the calm pulse of destiny itself, written in shadows and kissed by the trembling glow of candlelight. In the hush of the moment, she calls upon tomorrow, as though time were nothing more than a spell resting gently in her breath.

She walks in velvet dusk, a girl of whispered roses,
wandering where prophecy and dreaming softly meet.
The moon composes quiet sonnets upon her skin,
while patient stars embroider sorrow at her feet.
For love, to her, is no brief phantom of the heart—
but heaven’s hidden omen, written in silent light,
revealed only to those bold souls who dare believe
in truths that live beyond the reach of mortal sight.

And so she lingers there, a French enchantress with tender prophecies, weaving threads of longing through the loom of eternity—waiting, perhaps, for the soul whose path will one day entwine with hers beneath the most secret hand of fate.
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