crimson memoir

                                  ❛   domi  .  .  .   ❜

𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 becomes him & suddenly it feels as if there were three as if they were the only two in the world. nothing else mattered in the moment that they sit beside each other & noé leans gently ‘gainst domi’s shoulder. it’s a moment of relief , clogged by unsettled memories that cling to the two of them like a haunted possession. he swallows audibly , as if even the air is hard to take in & allows himself to become the vulnerable version of himself that she knows so well. 

                                  ❛   murr !!    ❜

ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 as the feline atop his shoulders sinks its claws into his unexpecting flesh. he flinches & winces for a moment , in a silly attempt to calm the creature from the other animal that sits at the desk before them. 

                                 ❛   you mustn’t           --    ❜

& off goes the cat , as the dogs sits politely without a sound.

ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 with the flame of the fire before them , he wears a soft smile -- something of nostalgia , a brief recess to the past. the past that is build atop loss , a bitter grief never healed & blood - stained tragedy. he blinks , once , twice , shaking his head as he tries to forget it. still , it lingers , taunting him with the images that stain his sleepless nights. perhaps it’d be best to speak them into existence -- no. he can’t bear the thought. instead , he keeps it vague , unknowing. perhaps they could relate on something.

places down a gentle starter call . 

𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑟 𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒 surges through his veins , caressing his heart with claws of enmity. the spell of protection would possess him like cursed beings under charlatan. he succumbs here to the darkness & allows its take over , submitting all emotion unto violence. oh , how he does despise the use of violence. this moment , he crumbles , he leaps , & hands would grip the boy’s collar , all roads of sacrificial intent paved in his direction. he’s shaking as he speaks, his words falling from quivering lips like an avalanche broken to destroy.

silence  is  not  always  so  easily  shared .  vanitas  isn’t  the  type  to  enjoy  company  when  it’s  not  needed  ,  but  over  time  he  has  become  strangely  accustomed  to  noé  being  around  ,  as  disgusted  by  that  thought  as  he  may  be .  the  night  air  is  cold  against  his  skin  and  his  cheeks  are  stained  a  faint  pink  at  the  bite  of  the  wind  (  cold  ;  vanitas  is  always  so  cold  ) .  of  course  he  had  known  noé  would  be  here  -  he  had  heard  his  steps  all  the  way  from  their  room .  when  you  spent  a  majority  of  your  time  fighting  simply  to  remain  alive  ,  you  became  hyper-vigilant  to  all  types  of  sounds .  that’s  what  vanitas  will  claim  ,  anyway .  he  wears  it  like  a  badge  of  honor  :  he  is  ,  against  all  odds  ,  alive .

❛            it  seems  so .           ❜  his  voice  is  monotone  ,  head  propped  on  one  hand .  the  human  does  not  so  much  as  move  :  if  noé  is  seeking  acknowledgement  ,  he  will  find  it  in  words  rather  than  in  actions .  ❛            since  you’re  here  already  ,  you  might  as  well  sit  down .  or  is  there  something  you  wanted  to  say  ?           ❜

𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 at his side than the incessant actions so prevalent in usual antics. gloved hands brush betwixt the interior of arm’s joints & he smiles warmly at the grand invitation to become at his side. quietly , he finds himself at vanitas’s side , the air chilled with every gust of wind that carries silver locks away with it. legs cross calmly as hands find his way to own lap, elbows propped politely atop his thighs. one hand meets with the crux of his jaw & he enjoys the air that caresses them like a parent would meet a child in the after life. it reminds him of his home where he grew up, the moments he spent playing outside with dominique & louis ( it was all your fault ). 

he takes this moment to rest, eyes heavy with the night’s depth, they close momentarily. 

                  ❛   i wasn’t going to say anything , but i’ve changed my mind.   ❜

there’s a pause before he speaks, words moving swiftly with a nature so nonchalant.

𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝𝑠  that pace carefully toward another. he sits atop the paris roofs, gazing silently ‘pon the night’s blue veil, stars gleaming through the fabric of the city. footfalls are quiet as he approaches the human, gaze focusing not only to him, but to sky that encompasses their being. he knows not whether vanitas expects him, but truthfully he cares not for such details. stepping behind him, he stands still, letting the silence take over for a brief moment’s respite. the days have been long as of late, tales of unsung glory & salvation at their fingertips. finally, there is a moment to take in the fresh air of the city & he speaks lowly, as if not to alarm vanitas -- though, he knows not whether it was in vain. he breaks the silence.

places down a gentle starter call .