⁽ ᶜᴼᴿᴾˢᴱ ⁾ 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 !

CALL     ME     DEATH     !        A     PRIVATE      AND      SELECTIVE      WRITING      BLOG      FEATURING         NINA     ZENIK     FROM      THE      SIX      OF      CROWS      DUOLOGY.         A     STUDY     INTO     MISPLACED     DEVOTION,      THE     DECAY     AND     REBIRTH     OF     SELF,      AND     THE     GRIEF     THAT     SWALLOWS     WHOLE.       LARGELY    HEADCANON    BASED     WITH     PERSONAL     INTERPRETATIONS.         AS     BEGUILED     BY     MACY.         EST.    MARCH   2021.

overdue silly things for @sunspared

if she hadn't grown used to the thick scent of debauchery and, well, just about every ghastly smell under the lunar's watch, she would have just about passed out the moment she crossed the threshold. an elusive, obscure, and tantalizing gentlemen's club ... if not for its laughable existence to give validation for the scum of the barrel, she would find more amusement in it. it takes every bit strength mustered within her to not pick at the rat's fur resting upon her lips. every breath she made, every word shaped by her lips — it tickled. “ saints. ” she heaves under her breath, exasperated as she makes it through a group of men cackling about some saintsforsaken topic that the general public would find atrocious. the heartrender had done well in keeping wandering eyes off of the real infiltrator of the night : the wraith, who lurks in the shadows and crevices of unsuspecting patrons. from what she could recall, it had just hit the second bell and they were running out of time — nina could only stall for so long.

find the target and get out. that was the plan. only the target had yet to show up and it forced them to resort to other means of digging. and as she stands before the host barking up a shallow attempt of a conversation, she catches a glimpse of a newcomer and aggressively whips her head in their direction for inej. less than subtle, and even lesser than subtle was her makeshift mustache pathetically falling from her face and taking its sweet time as it floats through the air. viridescents widen as she meets inej's gaze and shouts, “ stadwatch ! ”

🌿                                                    𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐭𝐨  𝐬𝐞𝐞  𝐡𝐞𝐫  light  up  again  –  anything  to  see  her  lips  curl  in  a  smile.      (    it  was  easier  when  they  were  children.    they  didn’t  know  any  different,    really,    too  young  to  remember  the  war  behind  them,    and  only  young  enough  to  see  a  bit  of  the  expanse  of  war  before  them.    their  eyes  were  eager  still,    and  their  color  untainted  by  the  exhaustion  of  fear  and  loss.    )      the  shock  of  it  nearly  takes  the  wind  out  of  her  —  nina  is  back,    nina  is  back,    thank  the  saints  —  but  the  impracticality  of  it  brings  andromeda  back.

          nina’s  joke  is  half  -  hearted,    but  the  effort  is  enough  to  thrill  her  elder.    even  an  attempt  is  a  relief.          “  i  think  a  good  visit  to  andromeda’s  apothecary  can  get  your  coat  shiny  and  new  again.  ”          nothing  healed  as  well  as  the  caring  hand  of  a  sister  taking  care  of  you  :    it  was  a  lesson  they  had  stumbled  upon  years  ago.    wounds  healed  faster  with  the  care  of  family.      (    she  hasn’t  had  the  luxury  of  family  in  a  long  time.    but  watching  little  nina  be  sent  off  with  botkin,    andromeda  understood  she  was  watching  her  family  depart  once  again.    )      her  hands  take  nina’s  face,    thumbs  swiping  over  her  cheeks  gently.          “  you’re  home  now.    i’m  so  glad  you’re  home  now.  ”    

she is back,   but is she really ?    this vessel feels hollow and rigid,   a husk of a being that was once lively and ferocious with might         —         she is a stranger in her own right,   a mindless puppet on a string only walking the parts she finds a semblance of familiarity.    SHE IS HALF A GIRL,   HALF THE EMBODIMENT OF DEATH AND DECAY,   AND ALL THE DARKNESS THAT FOLLOWS HER EVERY MOVE AS A SCORNED SHADOW.    and still,   in this blackened tunnel,   stands andromeda with this beacon of light that nina had still yet to fully understand in its entirety.    but she lives for it,   leans into its heat.    if only it could bring about the rotten edges of her soul that was now lost and withered.

❝   djel save us,   ❞   the prayer fumbles across his tongue as he’s sent crumpling toward the dash despite his seatbelt and excess bracing. matthias glares across the small space of the car as the pedestrians finally deem it safe enough to cross.   ❝   i think there might be a language barrier,   ❞   he mutters, righting himself and reaching for his phone,   ❝   i would not categorise the way my heart is racing as totally fine,   ❞   a pause,   ❝   nor the whiplash.   ❞   fingers stretch, released from their death grip, as he taps the screen to pull up the map — not that he needs one. these are, after all, his stomping grounds. but with the way he is… distracted… by nina at the wheel, it’s better safe than sorry, isn’t it?

eyes narrow as the map takes its time to update – shitty cell service be damned.   ❝   we need to take the third exit on the upcoming roundabout.   ❞   the i think dampens the air, though it remains unspoken,   ❝   and then it looks like it’s about another thirty minutes — we have plenty of time, if you feel at all inclined to slow down to a number closer to the speed limit.   ❞

it takes every bit of her not to accidentally release the pressure from the brakes,   sending the car just a smidge forward while the pedestrians crossed.    the girl was a heathen but not this much so.         “  i can speak your tongue and more,   you know this much.  ”         there’s a nonchalance in her choice of words,   purposefully teetering the border of provocative,   ever paired with the ghost of amusement in tone.         “  aw.  ”         she makes an effort to glance his way,   lips stretching with mischievousness,         “  i make your heart race ?  ”         she’ll be the death of him,   she knows it,   he knows it         —         said it once before,   and she holds it close to her like a prophecy    :    nina zenik,   the woman you are.