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“I love the commanding tone of your voice and how it falls in gentle rhythms. I love how you dance like the waves and pull me in with your tide. You're every ounce as beautiful as the sea and every bit as wild. You have no idea the extent how vibrantly you glow, but perhaps you're learning. And I love that. I love you." A flutter in my chest multiplies, blooming and blooming and blooming, like the kaleidoscope in my dream. Only this time, it doesn't shatter. It holds me there in that rose-gold glow. I burst, but in a way that's expansive, not destructive. I leap forward, pressing my lips to his, obliterated by the dew-damp softness. His eyes widen as he pulls away. I gape at him, flushed. "I---I'm sorry." He hesitates, but then he pounces, drawing me towards his embrace and crushing my open mouth. It happens so fast. He grabs me by the thighs, welling up my skirt as he carries me out of the water. My fingers curl through his hair, and novas explode as he slips his tongue onto mine. He holds me tighter, kissing me over and over again like repeating a melody. It's as natural as language, as wild as the roaring sea. We fall to the ground, and a bed of flowers blossoms beneath us, pale pink and soft. The velvet petals tangle in my hair as he presses into me--- skin on skin, blooming with wild heat. We fold into each other, our arms coiling like serpents, my fingers tracing his body. He pulls away for just a moment, but only to study me like the rarest opal, admiring my every color and curve before kissing my lips--- sweet and soft and slow. We repeat the motions in a ritual that's only our own. I try to catch my thoughts, but they're all tangled up . Though, there's one thing I know for sure. Through my unsteady breathing, I whisper, "I love you, too." Despite what the Devil thinks, I am capable of love, and I won't let him win, not now. Damien and I collapse into the damp petals, surrendering to the night.”

“He has all the beauty of an angel--- a chiseled face and a faint glow. But there's something wrong about him. A rawness that never melted down. His smile is crooked, forged by a false sense of happiness. Though, he is undeniably enthralling. Golden hair and sharpened bones. Fox-like eyes that trail my body as if it's for show. Silently undressing me. Ready to pounce. In another world, I might have let him. I smile, fawning naivety as he takes a step closer. His red lips part with a grin as he brushes a weft of hair over my shoulder. I shiver as he trails my bare skin. His touch is delicate, careful not to startle me as my breathing hitches. Slowly, his fingers trace the vulnerable part of my throat, grazing gently instead of drawing blood. He's careful in his movements, taking his time, awakening my senses until I let out a kitten cry. His hand perches beneath my chin. Our eyes lock, trapped in honeyed heat, as his thumb strokes the fullness of my bottom lip. "You're immaculate," he says. His voice is lush and dark. I tense, trying not to tremble as his tether possesses me. It becomes harder when he whispers, "I have never seen such a beautiful girl." Electric shovers rattle my bones. My knees slacken, and he stabilizes my balance. I refuse to give him the upper hand. I press my palm against his chest, grazing right where his blouse parts. My eyes turn doe-like with wonder, honoring his beauty and tending his fragile ego. "Are we to be married now? I can't wait a moment longer." He grins. "Soon, coquette." I move my hand up to his neck. Not slow and delicate like he was with me. But feral, delicious, wanting. "I need you." I nearly pant. That's it. That's enough to make him tick. He drinks me in like nectar, a sweet ambrosia brewed just for him. "Come," he says, offering his arm.”

“With a wicked smirk, I part the Devil's lips. He invites me eagerly with want, drinking me in like salted chocolate, savoring my blood on his tongue. He thinks he has me. My muscles tense when he weakens, my power growing as his desire burgeons. It shifts too suddenly. I gasp as he grabs me by the waist, pulling me firmly against his body. His hand coils around my neck, lifting my lips to his. My eyes shut instinctually, tasting the blood and honey on his tongue. The taste deepens, layered like spiced sangria. I want more. I want it so much, it consumes me. I press into him harder. He's ravenous, squeezing me, threading his fingers through my hair, ruining my curls. No. My eyes burst open, but I don't shatter his fantasy. Not yet. I come up for breath as his lips find their way to my neck. I tilt my head back, glancing at the stained glass ceiling. The upper hand is mine again when I push him against the stone wall, furiously feeding him kisses to satiate his hunger. He grabs my leg, pulling it around his waist. I balance myself against the cave, and with my touch, crystals start to sprout. Citrine, ruby, and amber. They form into points, my own glittering weapons. Once they're not long enough, I snap a piece off. The Devil mistakes my destruction as rapture. I play into it further. Grabbing him by the collar, I spin us away from the wall, continuing our tango over to the balcony. Wisps of my gossamer gown pool around my thighs as he explores me. My fingers twist into his hair, pulling, stringing up his appetite until he begs for more. And, once I have him truly at my mercy, I jab the crystal straight into his back.”

“He circles the shrines, scanning each of them. There's one made in exclusively soft shades of pink, with a bouquet of blush roses at the center. It's surrounded by oysters, each one nestling a pearl. Smooth, heart-shaped rose quartz surrounds the perimeter in a perfect circle. Sliced guava reveals its rosy flesh, next to clamshells full of cherry blossoms. Another is built from a large shell in the center, filled with water that reflects the moon. White magnolias float on the surface, along with golden glitter that sparkles like starlight. Oranges with long stems and blossoms surround the shell, paired with sliced mango drizzled with honey. I swear I know who some of these belong to. The one with green grapes and pears decorated with golden butterfly appliqué must be Genevieve's. Beside it is one crafted from fuchsia carnations and obnoxiously large peonies, with different berries in porcelain dishes painted with bright pink flowers. So obviously Amelia's.”

“We decorate the heart-shaped snickerdoodles in pink and lilac frosting, topping each one with a tiny rosebud. Roisin brews a pot of passion fruit tea, sweetening it with honey before pouring it over a glass of ice and coconut milk. It turns a cloudy purple color. "This is a specialty at Petals Tea Shop," Roisin says. "Your auntie Laina named it the Midnight Rose Garden. It's one of my favorites." "It's wonderful," I say, taking a sip. It reminds me of family trips I used to take to Hawaii. My parents always said I was such a happy kid and didn't know what went wrong as I grew up. The passion fruit spilling over my tongue transports me back to placid waters--- ones that never whispered. The kind of waves that turtles call home and coral reefs burn bright. The same waves that culled my sunburnt shoulders, kissing my welted flesh and telling me I was okay. I was safe here. The water was safe. With Roisin, I am safe.”

“Angels waltz around like in one of my daydreams, glitter-dusted as the faeries I was warned about as a child. They're mystic, with spindly limbs and gossamer hair and skin that glows. Their wings unfurl behind them, some gilded and others adorned with pale pink shimmer. They flutter across the flower-filled glade, twirling like falling feathers. A few of the angels thread starlight into garlands or coax the flowers to bloom. A train of them braid baby's breath into one another's hair. Others lay fruit in front of what looks like shrines--- seashells brimming with water and floating petals that gleam with reflections of the moon. It's like something out of a storybook. Lanterns are strung between the evergreens, casting their light over a long table. On top of a silk tablecloth, candelabras drip with wax and flowers are strewn about--- cerise roses, vibrant marigolds, velvet violets, and pale bluebells. Fresh fruit spills out of a giant shell like a cornucopia--- mangoes, peaches, guavas, champagne grapes and deep red cherries. Dark wine fills crystal cups. Rose-jam tarts with wild raspberries and hibiscus petals pile alongside tea cakes piped with custard and sugared primroses. In the center of the feast is a roasted duck glazed with honey and decorated with slices of pineapple. The smell of buttered potatoes lingers in the air, fragrant with hints of rosemary and garlic.”

“The dining room has been transformed into a fairy garden this evening. Flowers are strewn across the long table--- magnolias, anemones, and roses--- paired with hydrangea-and-peony centerpieces. Long taper candles flicker over the display, complemented by the remaining sunlight. A feast sprawls out from one end of the table to the other, a medley of some of my favorites--- crab cioppino with bright tomatoes and red wine, garlic bread flecked with parsley, linguine and clams swimming in broth, seared abalone presented in its opalescent shell, fresh oysters on a bed of ice.”

“After perfuming my neck with lychee and fig oil, I touch up my barrel curls and apply a fresh coat of lip gloss. As I stare at my reflection, I almost believe I'm the angel I masquerade as. My skin shines like opals, the iridescence catching the fullness of my lips and the high points of my cheeks. Coalescing down to my waist are ribbons of black hair, perhaps my favorite feature about myself. Though my mother has always loved my eyes the most--- upturned and narrow, blooming with feathered lashes. I, for one, have always been frightened by them. Some would mistake their red-honey color for brown. But in the light, they glint with a tint of ruby. Like devil eyes. I shut them. No more ocean of a girl. At least not tonight.”

“The entire town comes together in comradery for the Blood Moon, with most shops giving away free gifts to everyone who passes by. Clair De Lune Bakery passes out lychee mooncakes, reminding me of my childhood celebrating the Lunar New Year. Petals Tea Shop hands out sachets of white peony tea and jasmine blossoms. Luna's Love Shack tosses free ribbons out at the front of the store, embroidered with metallic stars and moonflowers. A French restaurant, La Vie en Rose, offers moon water in polished wine glasses to anyone who stops to look at their menu. Some flower stands even hand out moonflowers for free instead of selling them.”

“With a deep breath, I extend my arms, beginning with an adagio, syncing with the melody of the flowers. When I find comfort in the rhythm, I dip into a cambré, sweeping my body into a whirlpool as I rise. I hesitate as plumes of color emerge from the ground, encompassing me in a veil of fuchsia, amber, and gold. The colors gather me, and I move with them like the language of fire--- hot, quick steps, languid and elegant. The forest begins to change, and my eyes widen. When I began my bourrée steps, foxgloves sprout like lace-crafted trumpets, marrying the sound of blooming hibiscuses, rattling like tambourines. With every step I take, more flowers grow, kissing the earth with their velvet lips. I almost swear I hear the ground sing back, harmonizing with the forest's song. I guess the angel was right. With a glimmer of confidence, I burst into a grand jeté, and golden hummingbirds mimic me, tracing my every move as I dive into a piqué manège. Damien's eyes glisten, and it fills my spirit.With every chassé, the forest unravels in color. Fireflies come to life and kiss my cheeks, circling my body in a lattice as I pirouette. New colors rise from the ground--- topaz, lazuli, and chartreuse--- dancing with me like my own ensemble, I transition into my fouettés, leaning into an arabesque, as if to touch the rising moon. I lose all sense of self, leaping into the air. My body transcends into a wind-like creature, moving wildly with mild grace. New life sprouts, as if this world belongs to me and not the angels. Tiny stars emerge in a trail behind my feet, and I climb them like stairs. Damien smiles. I reach for his hand and lift him onto the steps. His hands wrap around my waist, and together we spin higher into the sky. My grip around his shoulders tenses as we rise closer and closer to the Heavens. I can feel Luna radiating over me. I'm in command. Here, I'm free. I wish I could hold on to this moment forever.”

“Sea-foam tumbles onto the shore, claiming me gently in the way I've always craved. The ocean gathers me, carrying me over the surface like Cleopatra--- and I, every ounce as lovely as her and Aphrodite combined. Bit by bit the water swallows me, gently nipping at my skin until I dissolve into an aquatic spirit. Only then do I understand the language of angelfish and squid, and I move just as languidly. The sirens gape at me with their jewel-bright eyes and try to steal me as their own. But before I can be taken by those curious witches, I rise to the surface again. Everything glimmers here. I embrace the dusk with a hopeful smile. The sky blends into a watercolor of pastels and ambrosial stars. It's an aurora borealis of magenta and lavender, tempting me into the forest and away from the safety of the shore. Something's in the wind. I can feel it--- like the twinkling stars will finally lead me to the love I desire. I want it more than anything. The thought of it turns me feral, like a vampiress thirsty for a drop of blood. I dart through the forest, trailing a path of golden light. Past the evergreens and pines, underneath the moon, I become wild and free. Sweet summer fruit grows from trees, ripe and sparkling. With every cautious step I take, the flowers blossom. But they don't just grow. They glow. Ultraviolet irises, sugar-dusted peonies, and iridescent rosebuds unravel beneath my feet. Foxgloves bloom like trumpets, playing a regal procession beside twinkling bluebells. As I journey deeper into the forest, fireflies circle me, illuminating my path. And then I see him. I blink. He's awfully familiar, but I can't place my finger on who he is. He's beautiful. A boy with white-blond hair and viridescent eyes. Where have I seen him before? "Hello, Lila," he says. I stumble back. "How do you know my name?" He's peculiar. So unbelievably enchanting. I'm enthralled by the sound of his voice alone. "Don't be scared. You're safe here. I wanted to bring you somewhere special. Somewhere where you can make the forest beautiful with your dance." My dance. Of course, my dance. Witchlight flickers in his eyes. This world is meant for me. A gift wrapped up in velvet petals and sweet perfumes.”

“You're coming to France with me?" He shakes his head, turning to face the horizon. "I'm going to see the world. But I'll always make the trip for a dance with you." I lift a brow. "Will you, now?" He puffs out his chest. "Hey, you're never going to find a better pas de deux partner than me. Besides, what we have together is magic. Literally." I smile. "I suppose you're right, angel." He smirks, taking me in his embrace and dipping me over shimmering water. As the sun glimmers against the waves, we share one last kiss before the starlit sea.”

“My eyes bloom as I meet a silk as smooth as water. It shines like a pool of opals. The connection is tender and romantic, like how the feeling of summer swelled up within Romeo when he first laid eyes on Juliet. She was beautiful, as fair as their beloved Verona. And here, this dress reminds me of all the loveliness of Luna Island. It's hand dyed soft colors--- blush and blue, lilac and lemon--- like a sunset sky above island waters. A blue sash cinches the waist, and the bow in the back fans out into multiple ribbons, each one a color featured on the dress. Labyrinthine embroidery coils into rose-like shapes, and ruffled sleeves remind me of cream puff shells.”

“I wanted to be recognized in the stories I loved so badly. With ballet, it doesn't matter where you come from. It matters how good you are." "That's why you trained so hard." "Yes, but it wasn't just that." Before things were bad, my mother used to ask why I was so drawn to the sea. I told her that although the sea is dangerous beneath the surface, people still find beauty in it from above. It's still something to be adored, even if it is usually only ever loved at a distance. That's why I loved performing. For a moment, I could just be admired. Not a danger to everyone around me. Like the sea, I have a tendency to destroy things. Beautiful things. Sacred things. The sea takes things she loves--- like coral or shells--- and obliterates them to sand. I've always told myself she doesn't mean to; it's just the way she is. She can't choose when the hurricanes roll in or when the tsunamis rise. They flow out of her as they should. Maybe even in ways she doesn't understand. Ballet makes me feel like the ocean--- silently unfurling with all the rage I've buried deep down, yet still manifesting in something beautiful. For those few moments, with all eyes on me, I'm heard. Ballet tells stories, and this is how I tell mine.”

“I turn to the full-length mirror ornamented with intricate golden appliqué. The bodice contours my body wonderfully, its sheer fabric extenuating my every arch and dip, with pearls perfectly concealing the parts of me otherwise indecent to expose. Jasmine blossoms ascend the skirt and billowing sleeves, which are as thin as water. I feel like a princess of the sea, held in the most delicate curl of sea-foam. I slowly run my hands down the pearl detailing, imagining a version of myself worth loving--- me as a bride before I say I do, the moment heaven is promised forever.”

“Isn't everything cuter heart-shaped?" Roisin asks, gesturing towards the homemade pizza we constructed. She chose to be creative, selecting a pesto base, topped with lavender goat cheese and grilled peaches. Something about her playfulness relaxes me. There's an innocence as she sprinkles cheese into her mouth and leaves handprints on the counter with her powdered palms. It reminds me of being a kid, when things weren't so scary and we could just have fun. That time in my life hadn't lasted long. I always wanted to please my parents. They made sure everything I did was done with heart, and I was cautious not to disappoint them. But being with Roisin reminds me we can still create something while having fun. "You know," I say, "I think heart-shaped cookies would be extra cute with this heart-shaped pizza. Don't you think?" She squeals. "Oh, I love that idea!" In between licking the spoon and adding extra teaspoons of vanilla, I draw kitten whiskers on Roisin's face with the flour. She tosses a handful of powder at me, and I squeal when it hits me in the face. We laugh, sinking onto the hardwood floor. I lean my head against her shoulder as the smell of cinnamon intensifies. We relax for a moment beneath the hot sweet air.”

“I smooth my hands over the punch-stained ruffles, taking a deep breath. Persephone is still Persephone even in the winter, I remind myself. And I am still Lila even though my dress is stained. Even though I fell onstage. Even though I was banished because of it. I am still Lila. And as Lila, I descend. The crowd erupts in a roar. They holler and cheer and throw just as many flowers as they did for Roisin. Roses, marigolds, and violets hit the glossy marble steps like confetti. Their applause floods me, turning me full, just like it did when I took my final bows onstage after a show. I throw on my best smile, waving like the pageant queen I pretend to be. Roisin howls, screaming my name with the crowd. The praise goes to my head. It's like I'm the Queen of Hell, like Persephone herself. And, as I reach the final step, I re-emerge into spring.”

“You made me realize that love isn't something that should be earned. And so, I severed myself from the people who held their love above my head. True love is loving all of a person, even the parts that terrify them, and especially the parts they hate. I love you, Lila, for all that you are." A smile overcomes me effortlessly. Not because of the praise, but because he really sees me. As a beauty queen, as a ballerina, and as the Queen of Hell too. Despite my demons, Damien still loves me. He forgives me. Maybe it's time I forgive myself.”

“Well, with every pirouette, we entrust the weight of our bodies on the tips of our toes, with the promise of them delivering us in cyclones. Our arms, always elegant it may appear, struggle beneath the heaviness our muscles battle to stay fluid. It looks effortless--- every allongé, every piqué as simple as the natural flow of water. But every dance, every move our bodies make, is a war against itself. It's magnificently dangerous. Like... blooming into an ocean. That's what it feels like. An ocean. Deep and rich all-encompassing, drowning out everyone in our presence. They sink into the moment, succumb to every movement, and simply just admire.”

“Fanning my arms to the side, I draw my pointe shoe forward. As I make my way towards the sea, more twinkles of music unfurl with each step, adding to the present melody. I take a breath, mustering the courage to walk on water. An aquamarine ripple flecked with golden stardust flickers to life beneath me, glowing brightly. I drag my other foot forward. The ocean sparkles, as if accepting the magic I offer. When I find comfort on the water, I relevé--- bringing myself onto pointe. My arms extend in a port de bras, and I begin a series of quick bourrée steps. A ribbon of stardust unravels from my feet, kissing the ocean with that glittering aqua glow. I embrace the beauty I've created, tilting into an arabesque. When I send my arm into the sky, the night illuminates. Stars explode like a shimmering tapestry woven from my body. I smile--- proudly owning the stage--- or in this case, the sea. I ignite the ocean with a piqué manège before leaping into a grand jeté, sending shooting stars as I fly. When I land, I fall into a series of chaîné turns before transitioning into more bourrée steps. Every move leads me closer and closer to Damien. The emptiness between us disappears as I leap into his arms. He lifts me towards the sky, moonlight showering us, before I fall into a fish dive--- my face towards the sea and my legs swept into the air. I glide my fingertips through the water, painting even more color into the night. The ocean radiates with undernotes of jade and lavender, shimmers of bright cyan and pearl. He gently places me down, guiding me into a pirouette. I tether my vision to his as the symphony of the sea blooms into a crescendo. Together, we burst into an allegro--- our own medley of fast, brisk movement. I surrender to his familiar hands around my waist, feeling weightless as he lifts me, as if I'm becoming an angel myself. Damien gives me wings, and I fly across the ocean. The once-black waves have transformed entirely. Plumes of stardust swirl like milk in water, feathering out into a soft iridescence.”

“Is it so much to want to be seen?" He hesitates, before saying, "I notice you. And you shouldn't be ashamed for wanting the spotlight. It's already yours." As much as I don't want to condone the cliché poetry of his words, I can't help but smile. "You're enough." His voice is sharp when he says it. "Don't ever forget it." I meet his eyes, and to my surprise, I do feel seen. Something within me softens, turning my cheeks warm. Maybe it's my glacier of a heart melting down. I untangle my folded arms, welcoming Damien closer. His fingers stroke my throat, rousing a shaky breath. I lean closer, and his lips part wider. The whole world stills, all thoughts fading as I graze the wetness of his bottom lip.”

“Damien swims to me slowly before cradling my body, sending twinkles up my veins. "It's true," he says. "You really are magic." A warm glow rouses in my cheeks. The ocean glimmers like a reflection of the Milky Way. I study Damien's face in the twilight. No one's ever believed in me the way he does. When I'm with him, he resurrects a version of myself I thought was dead. With a kiss, I'm confident I could lift the stars from the sea, ascending the illusion as our own stairway to the sky. I feel the power running through me, as if my magic is multiplying. It wouldn't take much to transcend this tapestry to the Heavens.”

“You're sensational. You were born sensational. The Devil can't take that away from you, and you shouldn't let him. I vow to protect you. Wherever you go, whatever you do, I'll be there to watch over you. I'm your guardian angel, from here on out, forevermore." We breathe in sync, our bodies entwined, his chest beating against mine. His vow of protection seeps into my heart, and I don't fight it. I'm too tired. And so, I say, "Take me away from here, angel.”

“A pas de deux is more than just a partnered dance. Two souls. One body. Entwining together and weaving a story--- evoking a sensation, a memory, a thought. I shut my eyes, remembering how Damien laid me upon the petals and joined his soul with mine. In the heat of summer, he vowed to love me, and we became a part of each other. We separate, taking our places across the sea. The tension pent up inside my body slips away as the darkness spills into the water. My dance was always powerful, even when I'm imperfect and fragile and completely surrendered. I know that now. I fall into my adagio, weightless. Technique no longer matters. Instead, I'm passive to the waves, allowing the current to spin me in pirouettes. The darkness fans out, blooming like a flower. As I lunge into an arabesque, my fingertips release a nebula. Stars explode across the darkness and create my own galaxy. I fall into a piqué manège, birthing stardust strokes. With quick bourrée steps, constellations sprout across the sea. The water illuminates as I leap into a grand jeté, sending shooting stars as I fly. The sirens coo, and I welcome them to join me. They spin tendrils of gold into the darkness, using their fish tails like paintbrushes. As they circle me, the ragged dress I wear transforms into a glittering gown, reflecting rainbows when hit by the light. Finally, I embrace the angel I always was. Filling the distance between me and Damien, I leap into his arms. When he catches me, his darkness feathers into the sea. We entwine, twirling in a whirlpool as the sirens hold us in a glittering lattice.”

“The sun descends as I make my way into the forest, sapphire hues painting the night like a jewel. Lanterns flicker in the distance, guiding me forward. The spread Amelia has set up is illuminated by tall magenta candles bathing the table with a rosy glow. In the center, there's a tiered cake with vanilla frosting, decorated with pink pansies, marigolds, and violets. Beside it is a summer salad with juicy peaches, soft cheese, and pitted cherries--- a perfect pairing to the bruschetta topped with diced tomatoes. Different fruits are scattered across the table, sliced open to show off their vibrant innards--- blood oranges, figs, and plums. Everyone is dressed in white with bright flowers crowning their heads. Carmella pours sangria into crystal cups while Yvette helps Amelia string more lights in the trees. Roisin is seated beside Serena, adding tiny braids into her hair and placing daisies between the plaits.”

“Betty returns in a couple of minutes, setting down our pots of tea and two towers of treats. There are small tea cakes dressed as mini presents, tarts in the shape of flowers, chocolate-covered strawberries sprinkled with edible pearls, macarons decorated with pressed violets, and a tray of scones accompanied by tiny finger sandwiches. She explains each tea before leaving us to indulge. Aphrodite's Ambrosia--- a blend of caramel, rose hips, white chocolate, and raspberry. Midsummer Moondrop--- a confection of violets, butterfly pea flower, and sugar plums. I lift the porcelain cup to my lips, hand painted with tiny cornflowers and gold leaf. The sweet, dark blend relaxes my muscles like a dreamspell.”