( 𝘈𝘐𝘙 ) 𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗡 ೃ༄

❛❛    this …    this may compromise us,    miss,    ❜❜      he whispers between bated breath,    a thunderstorm rattling against the window sill propped in half.    chilled wind breezed past the  thick grey curtains,   fluttering against his shoulders where the fresh spray of cold rain drizzled against the back of his neck and hair.     still,   he does not pry himself away from the heat of her against the bookshelf.     the lamp lights burn low in the stretching  darkness of night,   all shadows of the household fast asleep after an exquisite banquet indeed.    except,   of course,   for the two souls wandering the corridor walls and haunted eclipse of  the library’s hall,   an emptied parlour room without fire,   and books in hand discarded over the floor where his hands had pressed against the wooden length she was cornered to instead.         ❛❛    i will pry you best leave when you can,    your nonsensical temper with you,    before …    ❜❜

           before what ?    she makes no move to go,   warm skin against her paper pale nightdress,    her fingers by the unbuttoned poet’s shirt that dragged now damp against the line of his shoulders.     ❛❛    before i find ways to pour you into myself.    and loathe you furiously for it.    ❜❜     a breath stolen,   and her fingers find the loops of his belt.     ❛❛    zoya —    ❜❜

half dressed as he was,    she stole him closer against himself as their mouths stumbled into a kiss that crackled with the cut of lightning across  the infernal sky.    his hands grasped at her hair,   her hip,   and sequestered in the shadows he kissed her with the wrath he had felt inside the  small distance  where their hands had not touched during a dance exchanged.    in the moment where he pulled back and felt her gasp  against his mouth,    the flickering lights of the storm slashing across her face and alighting her blue eyes to pale ice stunned his blood to stillness.      ❛❛    you’re treacherously beautiful,    ❜❜     he mumbled,   and clipped his lips to her neck in a kiss.     ❛❛    horribly unbearable.    ❜❜

       AND SHE HAS COME IN FROM THE STORM,  AS IF THE DAMP AND MISTING OZONE CAN WASH FROM HER THE MEMORY OF THE HOURS PRIOR.  drenched by the torrent yet all she feels in the simmering heat of longing,  an ever-present bewildering,  which no downpour could hope to douse.  he has barred any route to abscond from the study without the side effect of touch.   ❛   it shan’t...   if there is none around to see  ━  though i was here before you.   ❜   a petty squabble over night wanderings   (  why does he haunt the aftermath of revelry?  he is what creeps in when wine and dancing have waned   )  MY MOST AUSTERE LORD,   YOU WISH FOR CALM BUT IT IS I WHO HAVE LANDFALL HERE.  so what brings him to  her nest of books and pressed flowers…   had it truly been the thunder? or her?  ━  was there a difference between the two. 

      ❛  be silent.  you burn me,   mr. vareck   ❜   a tremor alight in her voice;   please be anger,   i am pleading for anger.  ❛  with your traitor's tongue and your discordant eyes.  ❜   the casualty of a name,   her name,   a tolling of lighting.   ALL THAT I AM,   STRUCK THROUGH SILVER  ━  and she ties him to her with curling fingertips.  a sudden blissful silence lost to the heavy fall of rain.

this is the only place that holds some sense of refuge      ,     and even that is spoiled to the core      (       as every part of his life      ,      infused with rot where there could have been nothing     )     ,       but he’d rather have her here than anyone else     ,       rather not have to dole out punishment on himself or others and even less so have to see his brother taint this place more how he already tainted everything else in han-seo’s life   .     what uncharted territory could there be even left      ,      in this life      ,       considering that every little inch of it had his brother’s shadow looming over it and reminding han-seo just how short the leash is his brother wants to keep him on    .      they world might only know him as a fuck-up    ,    as someone who survived and got a load of rehab when he shouldn’t have     ,      but his brothers knows the worse truth beneath it      -      how embarrassingly soft han-seo is beneath all of this   .

his life has not destroyed him     ,     not entirely    ,     and the little parts left of him seem to have found themselves grasping onto spurs of bravery like only a fool could    .     when he follows her out into the rink     ,     she moves graceful where he moves methodical     ,     but he could find himself easing into it every time his blades cut into the ice a little     .     “    i don’t like meeting in boardrooms   .     the chance of too many people listening is always too high   ,     ”     he tells her    ,     moving in lines over the centre of the ice while she takes the outer walls      (     turns and jumps he couldn’t dream of doing    ,    he is more impressed for it     )       .       “      maybe it’s not a change of heart   .   maybe you and i have a bit more in common than me and my brother    .    or   ,    well    ,     most people i know    .     ”     honesty is where he excels    ,    even when people think he is stupid for it     ,     weak for it    .    but there is nothing weak about honesty     .      “     maybe you made some compelling points   .    best ones i’ve heard in a while   .     ”

        NEVER A HAPPY CHILD,   BUT AT TIMES CONTENT.  there had been a period in her life when it did not feel as if she was barreling towards her future,   that she was not running out time,  that she was not too small for her years  (   though,  she is so young still   )   there were never enough hours,  or days.  the ambition was a parasite and it ate away at her when she was not working towards retaliation.  IT LEFT SO LITTLE ROOM FOR ANYTHING ELSE.  I LET MY HOUSEPLANTS DIE LAST WEEK.  carelessness,   or rather too much care put in the wrong places.  the responsibilities seem to flee from her momentarily as she maneuvers around the rink's perimeter reacquainting herself with the root of all her fluid movements.  she had brought that sense of performance with her into her work   (   i never stopped being on display,   i only learned new tricks   )

˖ ⁺     BRIGHT  DEAD  THINGS  SENTENCE  STARTERS   . . .    ⥽   NOT ACCEPTING !  ⥼

       THE RINK IS REMOTE AND QUIET IN THE EVENING HOUR.  the surrounding seating in a gloom while a single overhead light reflected off the ice casting the space in a wash of ivory.   near the gate by the entrance to the glacial expanse doctor zoya nazyalenskaya was nostalgic for a path not taken.  IF SHE HAD NOT DIED WHO WOULD I BE?  WHAT WOULD THIS RAGE HAVE BECOME INSTEAD?   ━  would it have remained in only a different shape or would softness have taken its place  (  there was no use for conjecture,  he was left with the woman she had emerged as collateral damage from babel's sway of power.   )

⊹   from next to her on the bench a bout of honesty from the former chairman  (  @pragerstrasse​  )  ❛  i used to pretend a lot.  i’m very good at it.  ❜   still,  it does not warm the biologist to him.

a harsh flash of light greets genya’s ill - adjusted eyes…     merriment splashes coolly on her tongue,   the violet blur of wine enough to make her mouth feel a little dry:      she blinks once,  twice,  thrice,  and the light stops feeling like a punishment.    her hips meet the cool rest of the sink’s bowl and she leans her weight there,   her feet burning because of her heels   [   she toes them off now,  tucking them away below the sink,   hoping that she’ll remember them when morning strikes   ].         ‘        it smells a little like mildew.    not entirely like mildew,   not enough that you should start worrying,    i just wouldn’t invite a man in here.     AND AS MUCH AS I APPRECIATE YOUR DRAMATICS,   I WOULDN’T CALL ANY PLACE THAT HAS A BATH A SANCTUARY.       ’        a strand of her hair is caught between the other’s fingers and,   like a moth searching for the shadows that lives beyond the light,   genya leans closer.     she is thanked for the closeness with a harsh tug,   a hiss rumbling from between her perfect teeth   [   tombstone white…      the same colour that the indentured wore   ].        ‘        those perfectly blunt teeth of yours could rip off my bottom lip if i gave you the chance.       ’       it has the sharp of an argument without any of the heat in it.      her hands cup the woman’s cheeks,   her fingers fluffing over her eyelashes.        ‘       ah,   it’s just like i feared.    you’re beautiful without any tampering,   the world’s greatest tragedy.   haven’t you considered how that would make the rest of us feel?       ’

rumination  lingers  in  the  gutturals  of  their  throat  ,    turning their cheek to bask in the umbra cast in her nearness, their mirth half - shrouded.   a beckon of lithe fingers bids the flames to rouse to further consummation.            “   oh, you could never waste your breath on an ear so fain to hear it as mine.   ”

incorrigible trickster, their wreakless tongue remains thoroughly unchastised.         “   love, too, oft makes bedfellows of tragedy and devastation.  do you know any love stories, witch - queen ?   ”

        ❛   a love story?  well,  that is rather unexpected of you…  ❜  the drakon is keen on flattery,  she seems to blossom under the rays of it like some rare half-starved lily.  leaning further into the viridian gleam of their serpentine enchantment.  THIS IS KINDRED,  FAMILIAR TO THE WITCH.