BACK SWEEP EYES. (ap)

BOLD whatever applies to or attracts your muse.

BROTHERS KARAMAZOV   :       orthodox monasteries ,   deep woods ,   starry nights ,  the sound of paper being torn ,   dimly lit rooms ,  withered roses ,  an unfinished letter , piles of books   ,  the sound of shattering glass ,  ticking of clocks in a silent house ,  heavy wooden furniture  ,   the air before a storm   ,  the smell of earth   ,   a crowd of people dressed in black  , distant murmurs  ,  emptied streets  ,   the fear of walking alone in dusk.

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT :          coldness of the skin against a blade ,   slender pale fingers   &   slightly shaking hands   ,   a red stain blooming on white fabric   ,  lonely steps in a corridor   ,  the slow dripping of water   ,   looking out of the window into the thickening darkness ,   a single dying candle on the table ,   listening to one’s breath   &   counting heartbeats  , too many stairs   , the desire to be invisible  ,  a subtle memory of kind words.

THE IDIOT   :         classical statues   ,   wealth covered with dust   ,   a dark house tainted with inherited madness ,  an unsettling feeling ,   long walks in a park   ,   useless chatter ,   a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench   ,   a melancholic face   ,   an unexpected spring rain   ,   the joy of reading one’s favorite book  ,  the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around  , looking at cloudless sky.

ANNA KARENINA :         fields of crops  ,   flowers brought from an early morning walk   ,  the wind caressing a girl’s hair  ,   a bowl of fruit ,   the smell of ripe pears  ,   the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea   ,   children’s laughter coming from the garden  ,  soft sunlight   &   white curtains ,   the sensation of velvet against skin  ,  pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor ,  a sudden silence in a room full of people.

WAR AND PEACE   :       a glass of wine ,   the brightness of  a crystal chandelier , white lace   , a raging snow storm   ,   the sound of a door being gently closed ,   the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room  ,   indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light   ,  closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing ,   the sweet smell of strawberries  ,   a pair of gloves left on an armchair ,   light scent of powder.

THE MASTER AND MARGARITA   :          the chaos of a lively city ,   ambient jazz in expensive restaurants   , jumping on a moving tram , the sight of moscow from the roof of a house   ,  yellow flowers in a vase ,  leaning out of the window  ,  shelves stacked with books  ,  a small tin box with old photographs   , strange shapes in the night sky   , laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony   ,   colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind.

EUGENE ONEGIN   :       a lonely mansion   ,   reading a book in the parlour   ,   faint piano melody lingering in falling silence ,   long evenings  , passing seasons   ,   discussing french novels of the moment , unspoken thoughts  ,   leaning against the door frame , quickly averted glance  , eating a peach absent-minded  ,  bright mornings  ,   footprints in snow   ,   a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby.

FATHERS AND SONS :          birch groves   , morning mist ,   moss-covered stones near a moor  ,  scientific books   ,   white roses , cheap champagne   ,   shabby pocket-watch  , light-hearted irony   ,   a maladroit cello sonata   ,   freshly mowed grass   , letting thoughts come   &   go   ,  a  slow yawn ,  picturesque plates   &   bowls filled with traditional dishes ,   drinking tea on the porch.

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO   :         a strange feeling of loss ,  writing poems in a diary ,  traveling by train ,   the hesitation before touching someone’s hand   ,   the gaze of one lost in thought  , the warmth of cinnamon   ,   a scarf brightly embellished with flowers   ,   a glass of water  ,   a threadbare jacket  ,   the tempting void ,  the evanescent serenity of yesterday.

CHERRY ORCHARD   :       a lone chair in an empty room   , falling blossoms ,   old samovar   , the unsettling need for change  ,  a mirror reflecting full moon   ,  the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance   ,   a piano out of tune

                ❛    what do you want me to say?    ❜      forgiveness doesn’t come easily to scarlett   :      throughout her entire life, she can count in one hand the amount of times she has allowed someone to come back into her life again, unzipped her chest and found them there, again.  forgiveness doesn’t come easily to scarlett except when it came to them   :     she forgave again and again and again.  every yell  and  every curse,  every time their hands met her skin, their fingers wrapped around her body, leaving marks that the eyes see, and marks that they don’t.   she forgave, she became, she accepted it as a part of life.

             her lips tremble, still frozen in place by the look on his eyes   :   she knows it, as well as anything.  knows the way his fingers wrap around the whiskey glass, knows the way his nostrils flare, his brows arch    ——     apologize, apologize, say that he’s correct, apologize, apologize.  she moves not a muscle     :    head held high, eyes meeting his in absolute defiance.  forgiveness doesn’t come easy to scarlett, and forgiveness can’t come again.     ❛    he murdered my mother, phillip.   ❜   

             it does not surprise her   :   when the glass hits the wall by her side, shattering on the floor, a shard of it getting caught on the skin of her arms. she flinches because there is nothing else to be done   :   only to close her eyes, sharp features sharper, taking in the warmth of the blood that wants to run through her arms.  liar, you fucking slut   —–     still, she remains impassive  :  though her heart begs her to crumble, her mind knows that it is not the time, neither the place, to allow her emotions to get the best of her. he deserves none of it   :   he does not deserve to know how much she still aches for him, how much power this family   (  it’s only him now   —–     that is barely a family   )  still holds over her head.       ❛    how is it that you can forgive him for all the lies and corruption and blood, but can not forgive me?  after all  —–   after all he put me through.   ❜   after all you put me through. 

            her lips tremble, years of abuse tearing through her flesh as glass   :   how is it, that he still holds this weight over her?   shut up, you cunt, he snaps, and she flinches  ——   this isn’t as it’s supposed to be, this isn’t how it goes in the movies.   in the movies, they keep their head high. in the movies, fear does not take over every cell in their body.     in the movies, defiance is less frightening, more heroic.       ❛    i can’t forgive him. i’ve already said it, i don’t want  —–   ❜   she should have seen it coming, she knows, should have seen his hands wrapping around her throat before they were there, should have read the signs, should have   ——-    her eyes water, throat begging for breath, and it hurts, and it hurts, and it hurts.    ❛    i don’t want anything from him. he’s done enough.   ❜     she manages to say in between gasps, fingers trembling as she tries to push him away, to make him leave. 

            you are an ungrateful little whore, just like your cunt of a mother, he says, hatred spilling through every word, every move, every glance. she pushes harder, finally getting him away from her. she moves away, feeling a shard of glass entering her foot as she does so.    she will not cry. she will not give him the satisfaction.        ❛    you can tell your lawyers that i do not want anything. it’s yours. you   —–   ❜     be brave, saith my heart. i am a soldier. i have seen worse sights than this.      ❛   you always said i was nothing more than a bastard. it’s your birthright, is it not?   ❜    she does not know what it is that she sees on his eyes   :   fear, perhaps, or disbelief    —–    that she’d dare to say this, that she’d dare to say it and believe in every word that leaves her lips. i’m stronger, she wants to say. better. sharper.   ❛    i think you should leave my apartment now.   ❜  

             THE QUESTION COMES AS A SURPRISE,   eyebrows raising and features sharping almost instantly.   here, in the land between the said and the unsaid, lies a truth that she has never once dared to voice out loud   :   how many times did you tell yourself that your heart beat for him the same way it did for henry, and pretended it was enough?   how many lies did you tell yourself to make it more bearable, to make him good, to make you happy?   

                    (   but he did make you happy, didn’t you?   didn’t you smile, when he called your name, moan when he kissed your skin, felt yourself fuller when he was around?   did you not smile, truly, when you were with him? you  ——  when he was there, when he was kind  —–    did he not make you feel alive?  he did. he did. he did.   ) 

             did you ever love me?   yes. no. maybe. she runs her fingers through her palms, words getting caught on her throat, eyes never once leaving his   —–      they’ve been through this before,   they’ve wanted each other before. we were never friends.   if she closes her eyes, she still remembers everything  :  every touch, every word, every whisper, every moan.   did you ever love me?   tell me, tell me, tell me   ——    she’d love to know it, too. 

             can you look past the mistakes the two of you made together  (  the mistakes you two are making together  )   and remember what it was that made you come back in the first place?  yes. no. yes.    ❛   don’t do this.   ❜    she says, as cold as she can, head as high as it can be  :   she can’t remember it, she can not allow herself to remember it. think of the screams. think of the words. think of everything but the way you thought he made you feel. don’t think. don’t think. don’t allow him  ——    ❛   you’re married. you’ve made your choice.   ❜     she can hear his voice already  :   you were the one who left.  

                   FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED   :     i have wanted more than i could get, i have allowed emotions to get in the way of ambition. father, are you there?   father, can you hear me?   is it a lost cause, a lost hope, stupid foolish dreams of having someone, being someone?  father, father, father please   —–   forgive me.    

                 tongue tied, lips parted, heart palpitating against her chest again and again and again. is it fear or submission that keeps her head down, eyes facing his shoes, fingers digging into her palms   ——     stupid, selfish little girl, how could you ever think of yourself as something more than a whore’s daughter?   (    but she was good, wasn’t she?  her heart was purer than yours will ever be, the smile on her lips brighter and kinder than yours has ever been   —–   oh, little girl, you never even stood a chance, did you?   she’d be so disappointed, if she saw what you’ve become   ).                  

               she feels his fingers against her jaw, tightly gripping them as he forces her to face him, to look into his eyes as he says his case   :   what will it be, this time?   despicable, stupid, foolish, whore, weak, witless, puerile, unsophisticated.   she’s heard it all, has felt it marked against her skin again and again and again, like a repeat button, on a loop.  what will it be, this time?   look at me when i talk to you. christ, you look everything like your mother. 

                he never talks of her   :    she knows this because she asked, once, and his response, though wordless, spoke highly enough of his feelings.  a broken glass, a punch to the table, an unbreakable stare that pierced through her soul and left marks, and marks, and marks.   go upstairs. we do not speak of whores in this house. you have offended elizabeth.  it rings on her head, again and again and again    ——    he never speaks of her.   he’d never speak highly of her.  you look everything like your mother.      she forgets, sometimes, how cold words can be.  she forgets, sometimes, of the wintriness that comes attached to every syllable that has ever left thomas lefurgey’s lips. 

               forgive me, father, for i have sinned   :    i have shared resemblance to the one person who has ever given me love, has ever cared for me.   forgive me father, for i have sinned   :   i have forgotten the reason, forgive me, i have loved, forgive me.   she keeps her head high, his hands tight around her jaw, eyes filled with tears while his are filled with hatred, and coldness, and disgust.  have you ever loved me? will you ever love me?  don’t ask stupid questions, little girl. you’ve always known the answer. you’ll always know the answer.    ❛   forgive me, father. i’m afraid not even lefurgeys can control genetics.   ❜ 

             WHEN WILL YOU REALIZE, LITTLE GIRL, THAT YOUR SELFISHNESS IS WHAT PUSHES THEM AWAY?     mouth parts, fingers tremble, heart beats against her ribs as a caged bird, begging to fly away, to leave     (   hearts are wild creatures, she knows, but she wishes to tame it, control it, subdue it  ).      ❛   mitya              ❜     

             what, she can almost hear it, his voice ringing against her ears, what do you have to say?   he’s right, she knows   :    she’ll claw at his wrists and beg him to stay and not think twice before walking the other way, before walking out of the door, before leaving him.  you are always leaving everyone but no one can leave you.   it’s a fault in her design, she wants to say, i don’t know how to stay but i don’t know how to let go. don’t leave me, swear that you won’t leave me. 

             sing, o muse, of the way her heart aches with the thought of him turning his back on her, of the way her fingers reach out to wrap around his wrist. please, she doesn’t say, don’t go, she doesn’t say. her lips tremble, though coldness carves itself to every corner of her body, a creature made of winter bones and ice veins   —–   please, she wants to say, i need you, please.  

                when did you let this happen?   when did you let him come in, carve a place for him with his words and lips and voice, when did you let him mark you beneath the surface, when did you let him  —–   she needs him,    she knows. she needs him, she must admit. tell him, say it. it doesn’t matter when or how it happened, but that it did   ——-   when will you realize, little girl, that your silence is what pushes them away?  you want him, you need him, you might even ——   that’s enough, that’s too much, that’s enough. 

                 words get caught on her throat, choking at the thought of coming out. say it.  her fingers tremble, her heart aches, her lips part  —–   ❛   please don’t go. please don’t leave me.   ❜   it’s not enough. 

                THIS, THE BOOKS WOULD SAY LATER, IS WHAT THEY CALL THE TALE OF LOVE & LOSS   ——-       in the silence between a word and another, in the anger of fingers that curl, of eyes that shut, of a heart that falls to pieces   :     love and loss and loss and love, again and again and again, as if in a loop    ——–    this, the books would say later, is the tale of the girl who never learns. 

               part one  :  love   —–     how does he do it, still?   make her heart flutter inside of her chest, rapid beats against caged ribs, every word meaning more than the other, fingers begging to reach out, tongue begging to say yes yes yes.  how does he do it, still?  bring out the primordial inside of her, the apex of desire and need   :   you’ve been alone for so long, you forgot what it was like to have someone   (   don’t be foolish, little girl. you don’t have him. you’ve never had him  )    .        ❛   henry   —-   ❜   and still, his name sounds like a prayer on your lips, a litany of five letters and one word, again and again and again   —–   how can one name feel so heavy against parted lips, parted heart?  

          part two  :   loss   —–    eyes open, tongue clicks,  and it all comes back   :   how could you forget, little girl, of the gap that he left inside of you?  anger bites at her fingertips, rage claws at her throat like fingers wrapped around until her breath is nothing but a choke.    here,    she ought to point out, is where i hid the loss of you.    here,    she ought to show, is where i forgot of the heart that beats inside of me.  here,     trembling fingers ought to mark, is where i never once forgot you.   you’re so empty, little girl, how come you’re so empty?   foolish, senseless little girl    :    when will you learn, that his presence is intoxicating, inebriating, impossible.   he’s left one and he’ll leave again and you’ll be feeling this loss forever and ever and ever. 

          silence grows to fill the voids inside of the room, clawing at the air with hungry paws   —–    say something, says the voice in her head. say something or you’ll choke on your own tongue.   nails dig into palms  (   you thought you had gotten rid of that habit, didn’t you, little girl? oh ) ,  and she faces him, finally, finally, hair falling against her eyes.   ❛    i  think i should go.  ❜    whose voice is that, coming out of your mouth? who does that coldness belong to?      

              he wondered if she knew, he wondered if she knew how much he had missed her. how much he regretted leaving for that semester. he wondered if she realized that he was still hopelessly in love with her. did she know that when she looked away, he couldn’t help but stare at her. after all these years, he was still in love with her–there was no denying that. so when her fingers dug into the chair, he was worried. was he pushing it? he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable. he just wanted–he needed her back in his life. even if it’s just like this–it was better than nothing. a breathy chuckle as he smiled at her response and shook his head. it wasn’t a no.  ❝ well it is pretty late and i’m also not exactly dressed to go out to some place nice. –i mean i just started cooking again so i was thinking my place. if that’s okay with you.if not, i’m sure we can just get take out some where. i mean it is new york. ❞

         THIS, SHE KNOWS, IT’S A HISTORY BINDING MOMENT   :   tales say you never know, say that you can’t ever tell the moments that will change the course of history.  she calls bullshit on this     -------    she’s always known, deep in the marrow of her bone, which choices would modify everything and which wouldn’t.    these are your options   :   A)   your paperwork, your bitterness, your loneliness    /     B)   him, a chance to be yourself again, your heartbroken   /    C)   yourself   :    the chance to breathe again, and live again, a chance in happiness.   scarlett presses her lips together, nails digging into the cushion of the chair, until she looks at him, and she knows. she knows.  scarlett lets go of the chair, nodding a couple of times before walking towards the door.  ❛    alright.   ❜     she says, quietly, before she walks out.             

          what a fool he was. what a fool he still was. but it was different now, wasn’t it? before he lost something, and here he was trying desperately to get it back. he was a fool that wasn’t afraid of what consequences would lie ahead because at least, he’d be able to hold her again. where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;  ❝ michael is not as interesting as you are. ❞ grabbing his coat from behind the chair, he swung it over his shoulders and slid his arms in. he looked at her and felt his lips tug into a small smile, hand extended, reaching out to her. if she needed him to, he would get on his knees and beg. he would’t make the same mistake twice.  ❝ have dinner with me, scar. i want to have dinner with you. no one else.  ❞

            would it be like pressing the reset button or pressing play again? how many years had he imagined this, he never would have thought that after all of this, that she would still be here. the smile on his lips did falter when she said no so quickly. but he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.  ❝ it would just be dinner, scarlett. we’ve had dinner before.  ❞

        ❛    NO, I DON’T THINK THAT’S A GOOD IDEA.    ❜       is it uncertainty that follows each syllable that her lips leaves?      or is it fear?   fear, yes, of the way in which her body still calls to his, with the simplest of words, fear, yes, of the manner in which with nothing but a glance he drags his teeth through her heart and still, still, opens gashing wounds that bleed, and bleed, and bleed.                     

         ❝ so you’re the infamous scarlett lefurgey. louise has told me all about you. ❞

@atercygnus·

             he should really stop using all his best lines right now. what would use in the future? what would he use for his vows but then again, would she not expand his vocabulary even more? if he could be this happy now, how much more when they finally are together in the same city again. when they were able to become the people they always wanted to be. when they become the people they wanted to be, instead of what society or what their families expect them to become.  ❝ well here’s another secret to really seeing someone.  ❞  he whispered as he tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and cupped her face. his hands pressing against her cheeks as he looked at her straight in the eyes with no fear.  ❝ all those pieces, no matter how weirdly they are shaped, no matter how bizarre they amy be– they make up the beautiful whole picture that i’m staring at. and scarlett, i love every part of you. that’s the honest truth. ❞ 

               groaning as he put his arm around her shoulder and pressed his lips against her temple before walking towards the door.  ❝ if you keep reminding me, i might not let you even meet my family and just steal you away to our hotel room. i can recite pages from that favorite book from memory. so don’t tempt me, ivanova. ❞  he threw his head back with laughter before he looked at her with a shrug.  ❝ i mean, isn’t every position important? wasn’t that your argument for why classes are stupid because every occupation in society is important to society? or was that jason’s argument that you tweaked–anyways, you’re also a hot shot, miss. harvard. so what are you afraid of, especially since it’s too late to turn back. ❞ turning the doorknob to the ballroom where they were meeting, he heard the loud squeal of his cousin elena and smiled at scarlett.  ❝ who needs luck when we have each other, right? ❞

            DOES HE REALIZE THE WEIGHT OF THIS MOMENT?   does it feel as heavy  (  and yet so light  )   on his shoulders as it feels on hers?  he has met louise, she knows, and jacqueline, she knows, but it’s different   :    the weight of them in her life could never come close to that of the people behind that door. his family is everything to him, she knows.  she won’t tell him  (  not now, not ever  ), but the feeling won’t ever go away  :   as if she’s subpar, never good enough, not quite there. not warm enough, not kind enough, too much of a lefurgey, not enough of a ivanova.  what would your mother say, if she saw you right now?     just be yourself, annushka. you’re perfect the way you are.  what would your father say, if he saw you right now?   don’t be pathetic, scarlett. you’re a lefurgey. everyone else is second best.    ❛   who   ------   henry. i know you love me, for whatever reason, but  ------   it’s not like everyone in your family likes me.  ❜   they’ll hate me, she doesn’t say, like your father does, she doesn’t say.

           ❝ so threats–work…❞ her lifted voice fell quickly as she saw the state of her friend and her place. the room was a mess, books tossed about, papers crumpled and thrown about, take out boxes left half-eaten and starting to smell. ❝ how long has it been since you’ve had a proper meal? or any sleep? or even just a shower? ❞ her voice was quiet as she took a step inside, setting down her bag of things that she thought they might need, shitty romcoms, junk food, three bottles of scar’s favorite wine.  ❝ –scar talk to me. ❞