serpent's cry

“No, no, I do understand.” she says in a more calm and collected manner; leaning back slightly. “It’s like a game of sorts… but only when you have time. When you have a million things to do and an exam to study for… it’s not so much fun then. Like back in school, all you had to do was study and go through exams. Now, not so much. We have more things to do and more responsibility. It’s quite scary when you think about it. University feels like more serious in a way… even if my major’s not as hardcore as law or medicine or whatever.”

Gone Girl Sentence Meme. 

“Only if right now counts.” Her attempts to ease his frustration and guide him to a solution become trivial. He won’t listen, but he’ll make it seem as so because he knows that she doesn’t fully grasp the complexity of his being. No one does. Not even those who have become so unfortunate as to have peeped at the darker pieces of him through tinted windows. They gather an idea in the palms of their hands and fit jagged fragments into the holes of their imaginations, but none of the pieces ever fit quite right. Nothing ever lines up.

Gone Girl Sentence Meme. 

It burns of an odd sensation. This foreign jealousy that meets his expression with no visible emotion, only thinned lips and a cold judging stare in the appointed female’s direction. Darkened orbs pick apart at her appearance, which is but a fair distance away, starting with the mess of brown hair that falls against her shoulders swooping down against the curve of her breasts which, in his salty opinion, appear to be too big for her own good. She’s loose in her attire and immediately he pins her unattractive, but that fact doesn’t tear his eyes away.

Gone Girl Sentence Meme. 

Her presence had become something frequent within the last few months; petite frame often found lounged over the arm of his couch whilst plush lips spill of both idle thoughts and covert worries reserved solely for his ears. He had done the easy work; weathering away at the fragile coating of protection people often wore like walls against their skin. He had picked right through every fragment of hesitant trust and filtered words until she was nothing but bare skin laid before eager eyes that hid behind false security. It was just all too easy.

But of course he would have gotten nowhere without the practiced routine of dressing himself as something weak, vulnerable and identifiable. He clothed his past in half truths; the only honest piece remaining being that a struggle once resided here, but it was nothing like the broken and battered image he’d presented. Today was no different than any other day where she would seek comfort in his cluttered home, and opinion in his words.

Ginger movements attempt to make up for the calloused set of hands that meet trembling skin in soothing strokes to accompany an attentive stare. He plays his part with heightened brows dipped in worried curiosity whilst their gazes appear frantic in their need for each other, and it feels like reassurance meeting it’s seeking companion. He cloaks his words in empty promises that sound so heavy, so full of meaning, and so full of truth when they meet her ears in hoarse whispers that become the foundation of their isolation. 

Gone Girl Sentence Meme. 

No I don’t, No I don’t, I do not. I do not. I do not.

Tears well too easy, but fall too slowly to be anything more than artificial. The clenching fist of his anger is camouflaged to breaking frustration that grips dark tresses in a tight hold. This is his exposure’s result. This quick rocking, back, and forth, and back, and forth is his being’s attempt to cling to it’s flawed humanity. He has to believe it; to see his innocence in the face of bloodied hands. That’s the only way it becomes remotely convincing. His lower lip is sucked beneath a perfect row of teeth, the bulb of his nose a rosen shade as quiet sniffles fill the air. When he speaks he does so in a low whine, every word drenched in apologies and woes. I’m sorry, please believe me.

You should regret. You should regret. You need to regret.

“Tests..?” she repeats softly, giving him a rather hesitant look. “Who likes tests? Not me, that’s for sure. God seems to be testing me every day this week… month. How could you love tests. Exams. Whatever. Same thing. Brings on the same burdens.”

She accidentally fell asleep, there was no intentions in staying this long at the other’s place. Her fault for sinking into a deep slumber when the sheets embraced her entire body comfortably. Head resting on a pillow and slowly with ease, her eyelids were fluttering closed, falling asleep on the couch with limbs sprawled lazily over it. Uneasy vision grazing over the walls in attempt to look for the time, squinting a couple of times to see the time as she feels her heart sink in a little.

It’s dangerous to be out but she couldn’t help but suddenly feel that urge to leave to head back home. It shouldn’t be too late to call for a taxi or at least look for one near the streets. Loose sleeve was pulled up to cover her dainty shoulder, body twisting in order to reach for her phone. Dialing another number to quietly ask for a ride back to her apartment complex. Gently whispers and her knuckles lightly caressing underneath her eye.

A sudden noise causes her to stiffen up, her head tilting to glance of Cael’s direction. Lips breaking into a brief apologetic smile since she was caught up in trying to have a vehicle drive to where they were currently. Home is all she can think about, being a burden is potentially something she feels whenever she stays over another’s place without a fair warning as well.

❝I got to go.❞ She managed to say when the call was dropped, inaudibly sighing when she meets gazes with his exhausted eyes.

She becomes obvious to him in her silent attempt, and he only watches first with lazy eyes that trail along her every action with heart sinking terror. He feels as if he’s twelve again ‘helpless’ and small; sitting with folded hands as distance surrounds him while footsteps travel quietly away and he is left to drown in his solitude. He masks his anger with sorrow, doe eyes seeking a trace of remorse in a fleeting frame.

The moment their gazes meet it’s as if film is rolling once again and blinking eyes reveal tired concern. “Leaving already?” He lifts himself from his resting position against the couch, outstretching his arm and allowing his fingers to fumble in their reach for her hand, which is met with his gentle touch. “You have to, huh? Where are you going?” He’s not so much curious as he is desperate. Trying to corner her into a position where the end solution be that she stay.

⋙ crauwul

“It’s just stupid.” Her words come out in a whiny tone as she slicks back a loose strand of hair, brows arched in agitation. “I hate coming to these things. Who invited us again? That guy you’re trying to fuck with? I wish you’d just do your job and stop trying to sleep with them too. The guys here are so boring to speak with. Always the rich ones.” She clicks her tongue as she speaks her last sentence, having been eyeing a man not too far from her for quite a while now. He’d been speaking amongst a group of men, all garbed in black suits with glasses of champagne and whiskey. Their shoes appearing brand new–polished and completely shined. They made even Cael’s outfit look bad–despite the fact that her partner had been dressed in a fresh suit he stole not too long ago. That’s the thing when you go to a party full of fucking designers, right?

“That guy with the shitty facial hair has been staring at me all night. I think I found the one.” Julie whispers subtly, tilting her head towards the man. “Good luck finding a woman around here that isn’t already latched onto some big shot. Then again, I’m sure you could find a gay guy or two. I swear, if this guy is just looking at me for my dress, I’ll be mad. You never know with these places. Or are you going to pant after that guy who invited us? What’s his name anyway? Him…him…chan?”

And the night consists of this. Tuned in halfheartedly to the endless complaints that fall from her tongue and fade as they linger, to incoherent speech that just barely meets his ears. The drink settled in his hand serves more purpose as decoration than any sort of actual refreshment, for he hasn't touched his lips to the glass; instead his attention shifts elsewhere among crowds of men and women herded together like unsuspecting sheep all cloaked in fits worth more than their own lives. 

He’s searching for something-- for someone, though sharp words he can’t help hearing drag him by the ears right out of his silent hunt, lips parting under heavy annoyance. “I wish you’d shut up for once. Obviously, wishes don’t always come true.” His words are cushioned beneath a soft-hushed tone and sealed with a grin, disguised to those who may have been following along. Cael knows eavesdropping to be a common activity of the rich and the nosy, and he can’t afford to be exposed.

{ * sms } food. like i said i would.

because i have a few replies building up that i know i need to get to. i’m gonna be handling a few right now and i’m gonna use this as sort of like a check list while also letting you know, i’m getting to you, so yeah.

*working on

julestial​ { x } { x }

ximpvlsive​ { x }

dsmondprk​ { x }

1konic​ { x }

himakuto​ { x }

sepulcres​ { x }

*waiting on

agentlu​ { x }

*plotting with

Gone Girl Sentence Meme.

He’s beyond worrying for the protection of his fragile facade; beyond it’s breaking confusion. Cael is well aware of his actions and so is he. The male distanced far on the other end of the room who wears no fear in his eyes, but simply incredulity. His stare is hard and straight ahead, never for a second breaking with Cael’s who adorns his gaze with a wry smile and the slight tilt of his head; arms outstretched in a careless shrug.

“Well, what can I say? I’d rather be insane than dead, wouldn't you?” His brows raise momentarily to fit his question before he breaks out into a short fit of laughter, head lowering in amusement. “That was supposed to be a threat-- just in case you didn't notice. Now listen to me.” 

Gone Girl Sentence Meme. 

He is engulfed in a momentary silence, and thoughts that battle within him. All of which are screaming disagreement. His expression remains unfaltering, and evidence of his unseen struggle is only displayed in the constant clenching and unclenching of his fists, again, and again, and again. 

It is a topic so greatly ignored and left unexplored due to severe disinterest, but his opinion is strong and raging. Bitter and colliding. All of which he is not meant to expose. He is meant to reveal those fragile and scuffling, clinging to words in ignorant agreement. 

“I guess that’s true.” Is what he voices, but the demons scream ‘You’re wrong.’ 

“But y’kno, I always thought that love was the reason people worked. That if it didn't work, then perhaps it wasn't love?” Dismissing laughter follows his statement, accompanied by the lazy shrug of his shoulders as he averts his eyes back to the television screen. “I been watching too many Disney movies. I guess movies that aren't family oriented are more open to the way that things don’t always work.”

  He can’t help the way his face distorts in confusion as the other holds the strawberry in front of his mouth. As much as he appreciated the gesture, he found it a bit strange that the other was attempting to feed him. Though to avoid being rude he takes a tentative bite, offering the other a small smile. ❝This is all very nice and all, but-❞ he pauses to finish chewing, eyebrows still knit together, ❝Isn’t this just a little odd?❞