░ BLOTGYDJA.

Betelgeuse  —  Sender  rests  their  forehead  against  Receiver's.

Sirius  —  Sender  traces  lazy  circles  on  Receiver’s  wrist.

Rigel  —  Sender  steps  between  Receiver  and  the  danger.

Altair  —  Sender  lifts  Receiver’s  chin,  locking  eyes.

Deneb  —  Sender  wraps  their  coat  around  Receiver’s  shoulders,  fingers  lingering  longer  than  necessary.

Procyon  —  Sender  grabs  Receiver’s  hand  before  they  can  leave.

Spica  —  Sender  brushes  a  leaf  from  Receiver’s  shoulder.

Pollux  —  Sender  pulls  Receiver  into  a  half-laughing,  half-panicked  hug.

Castor  —  Sender  offers  the  Receiver  a  cigarette

Fomalhaut  —  Sender  leans  against  Receiver’s  back.

Bellatrix  —  Sender  wipes  blood  from  Receiver’s  lip  with  their  sleeve.

Alnitak  —  Sender  lifts  the  hem  of  Receiver’s  shirt,  tending  to  the  wound  in  silence.

Alnilam  —  Sender  places  Receiver’s  hand  over  their  heart.

Mintaka  —  Sender  bumps  shoulders  with  Receiver,  grinning.

Dubhe  —  Sender  wraps  a  scarf  around  Receiver’s  neck,  adjusting  it  carefully.

Merak  —  Sender  places  a  blade  into  Receiver’s  palm.

Phecda  —  Sender  reaches  for  Receiver’s  hand  under  the  table,  hidden  from  everyone.

Alphard  —  Sender  kisses  the  inside  of  Receiver’s  wrist.

Nunki  —  Sender  holds  Receiver’s  gaze  across  the  battlefield.

Scheat  —  Sender  grabs  Receiver’s  collar,  pulling  them  close.

Markab  —  Sender  holds  out  a  map,  finger  tapping  on  a  place  only  they  understand.

Kaus  Australis  —  Sender  rests  their  hand  on  Receiver’s  shoulder.

Almach  —  Sender  runs  a  thumb  across  Receiver’s  knuckles.

" hey, " he says softly, his voice lowering, some of that tension bleeding out, replaced by the warmth he has only ever found with her. everyone else before had only been an imitation of how it really could be, of how it is supposed to be, he knows that now. to see the furrow of her brow and the glassy sheen of her eyes is enough to alert benedict into action, set free the tenderness he usually reserves for the privacy of their home, and occasionally allows to take center stage after a successful skate, lost in the intensity of their connection on the ice. " there is nothing to apologize for, you know i would never be mad at you, yeah? i just want to be here with you, on the same page. "

❛❛ I know, ❜❜ she confirms his gentle inquiry, the agreement slipping from her mouth as she takes a deep breath, shoulders falling and rising with the attempt to steady her own breathing and settle the panicked ruckus in her mind. ❛❛ We are on the same page. I want to be here with you, I want to do this with you, I swear I'm happy I am, even if— ❜❜ With a halfhearted shrug she gestures lamely to her own appearance; even if it might not have looked like it to any spectators, with the tears descending on her flushed cheeks, though they are slower and slower to come. But his gloved hands, soft as they continue to brush the droplets away, keep her focus on him alone, the rest of the rink and the world beyond stripped of any importance so long as he keeps her tethered to him.

Trust your gut. I’ll back you up.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

" hey, hey, hey. "

it is cold inside the arena, colder inside the rink, on the ice, but it is a cold that benedict hardly notices anymore, that melts off his bones the second he has to focus on other things, sophie in his grasp, how their bodies move in sync, the shared heat of exercise mingled with two bodies pressing close together. his hands on her waist, or his fingers slotting in between hers, all of these movements second nature to him at this point, after having done it for so many years. he could probably do this in his sleep, many early morning practices underlining that theory, where the only thing keeping him from stumbling all over his own feet was sophie besides him, anchoring him. she has always been stronger than him, in every sense of the word, his bedrock, physically and emotionally, but they might have asked too much of her this time around.

he understands the pressure, perhaps better than anyone else, but they decided before the season, before the quad, really, that they would be doing this, that they are insistent on doing it with each other. sure, benedict could have easily found a new partner but he has zero desire to do such a thing: there is simply no world in which sophie is not the extension of his every movement, his every waking thought, in which he doesn't think of her in every waking minute, every moment he spends without her. they might have developed the closest thing anyone has ever come to telepathy between them, so he has seen this coming, sensed her unease, and yet, it does nothing to stop the sharp ache quelling inside his chest, settling there quite unceremoniously.

benedict's hand closes around her wrist and pulls her closer, easy with the aide of the ice beneath the blades of their skates. he tilts his head until he can find her gaze, look into her eyes to see those emotions she never allows to spill flickering through the walls, seeping through the cracks in her carefully curated defenses; benedict has always prided himself in sneaking through those gaps, putting them there in the first place, but he wonders if it is too much now, if he has made her uncomfortable. maybe they are too close, after all, maybe it would be easier if they would part ways, if they would just call it quits. but a part of him that is stronger than any rational thought disagrees. they are meant to do this, after all.

Then Araminta's cold voice emerges from the depths (a true memory or a figment of her imagination, she can't recall though either is plausible) with a familiar reprimand: this is momentary, a fleeting partnership. He'll toss you aside the moment his eyes catches on something sparkling brighter than you, & you'll be just like your mother, discarded and forgotten, little more than just another notch in a great man's bedpost. For a while Sophie avoids his eyes, her own darting from the line of his shoulder, to where she knows his collarbone lies beneath his jumper (longing for him even in the middle of a spiral), down to where their hands touch before at last meeting his searching gaze head on — even now his green eyes are kind and patient, despite the twists and turns she pulls on him in moments like these, when her fearful mind snatches the reigns of control. Her heart clenches painfully, worse than any physical ache she feels from the hours of training behind them. I don't deserve him, she thinks. ❛❛ I'm sorry. ❜❜ A shaky sigh lifts and drops her shoulders, and with it goes all her resolve; her face crumbles, furrowed brows & glossy eyes poorly hidden behind her hands, teeth worrying a plump bottom lip in an attempt to waylay the words threatening to spill.