under co.

      miss c.c. was quite the enigma amongst the black knights. she never really seemed to stay in one place, or talk to anyone very much aside from zero.  aline sympathized with her. she was someone who felt comfortable with her own company, and barely anything more than that. the rest of the black knights were fairly sociable, and at times rowdy. they constantly tried to pry open aline’s quiet, outer shell and get her to finally come out of it. so often now, she found herself ditching every suggested outing after successful missions.  she didn’t mind it when it was just her and c.c. the right hand woman to zero was rather stoic, and there was a little exchange between the two of them every now and again. aline noticed she ended up gravitating towards c.c. when the rest of the black knights (tamaki, especially) took it upon themselves to celebrate a victory in their headquarters.       now, aline found the green-haired woman bubbling at the front of her mind on the outskirts of the celebration. she slipped silently through the crowd of hooting and hollering recruits, a bottle of coca-cola in hand. she danced around a few people stumbling amongst themselves, trying to organize some sort of dog pile. she dodged a few clumsy hands reaching out blindly, not thinking that there were some recruits at a shorter stature that would end up with said hands in their face.      finally, amongst the madness, aline reached c.c., and extended the cola to her. success! 

« @enchantrisms »

          beneath the LETHARGIC expression that dwells within her PORCELAIN exterior, golden gaze flickers a hint of amusement as a subtle curve canvases through her COLORLESS brims. slender arms folds graciously above one another, an idle motion that single-handedly introduces the witch’s OTHERWORLDLY demeanor. in the end, she does not HIDE her vigilant observation. instead, unspoken judgment can easily stimulate a more then applicable response. after all, why else did she bother on making an APPEARANCE if there was nothing to gain? Aside from her beloved pizza, the IDIOTIC behavior of the black knights— namely tamaki, provided enough entertainment for the time being.

          although, in all of her years that she has been alive, ALCOHOL truly did bring out the worst of someone.

           ❝is that for me?❞

           an assumption naturally befalls her lips; her tone just as ALOOF as ever, and without evening waiting for a response, c.c. finds herself TAKING the drink from the other’s hand. her slim finger casually LIFTING the silver lid, before placing the opening of the can onto her mouth. she drinks the soda before setting the REMNANT onto the table. her table, to be precise; ( as if lelouch— or rather zero would actually join in such festivities ). crossing her legs, her posture SHIFTS accordingly. in the end, perhaps she might as well HUMOR the other for making the trip.

          “ my reason for living? “ he repeats to himself to process her words. “ it’s not for myself, that is for certain. i guess – at this point i live for my country. “ 

          was it a SIN to lie? was it a VIRTUE to tell the truth? when it comes to mankind, lying becomes an unavoidable NECESSITY. it becomes an act of SURVIVAL, whether or not it was INTENTIONAL or based upon good intentions lying is indeed a work of art. therefore, how else was the witch, who has long abandoned humanity— expected to respond? withholding her SILVER tongue, she waits in silence. idle movements carefully CRAFTED into a slender air of indifference. for a moment, a barely audible ‘tsk’ ESCAPES colorless lips. followed by a contemplated hum. in a sense, the witch was more then TEMPTED to shatter such illustrious ideals— of course, she had to remind herself that such INNOCENCE was indeed the foundation of this very organization.; ( zero isn’t the only one here who wears a mask ).

           ❝you do not need to like it to understand the importance of such deceit. we are all liars in the end. and you are no different.❞

       stunned silence SILHOUETTES softly across porcelain complexion; auburn eyes casting such hidden transparency as her slender figure immediately RECOILS upon the other’s quick acknowledgment. svelte fingers traces over CASCADE tears, her face shriveling into a FLUSH response. crimson tainting over pale hues before the witch’s subtle lips motions into immense SPEECHLESSNESS. ( how ridicules ), and yet traces of her vile emotions renders her SLY tongue into nothingness. she shouldn’t feel this way. a witch who has lived for CENTURIES, no longer qualifies in feeling something so… HUMANE. sadness, happiness, they all mean nothing to her ( and yet here her tears remained…). shaking her head, she attempts to DISMISS such notion entirely. her defensive posture only justifying her SINCEREST wish to move away from such sensitivity.