ARCHIVED.

    "Yes," Larissa says fervently. "Please."

    She doesn't smoke. She'll gladly start. She can't help but look behind herself toward the punch bowl: Mab, Francoise, Morticia, Gomez. None of them is looking for her; they're talking about something-or-other--she was barely listening even when she stood with them, her ears buzzing, her head hot--and Morticia is petting the lapel of Gomez's suit jacket under the guise of adjusting his boutonniere, and Larissa wants to vomit. She follows Violet Lane out of the room instead. Not the main exit, monitored by teachers, but some side door that only delinquents know, out into the bracing air, damp with the rain that's only just passed.

    Larissa sucks in a deep breath of that air and closes her eyes. Her gloved hands open and close at her side. She doesn't look at Vi, but can hear the smoker's ritual taking place next to her--carton tapping on a palm, then opening; rustle of a cigarette being selected; hiss-pop of a lighter catching--and when she opens her eyes again, Vi's looking at her like she doesn't quite know what to do with her, the way a nervous dog eyes a cat from a distance, not quite brave enough to give chase.

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐆'𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐋; the same mutt that leans into your affectionate hand becomes rigid and unfamiliar in the span of an instant. it's gaze hardens ( the same gaze that keeps you safe from strangers, ) ... ( the gaze that otherwise knows nothing but devotion, ) and it's hackles raise. it loves you, but it loves survival more. somewhere in the distance, there's a broken wolf howl from the furs ⸻ don't stick your hand in the damn bowl.

much like that mutt, violet's canid eyes harden upon @scyftan. she reaches out and claims the cigarette back into her own possession; propping the lipstick stained filter back between her lips without an instant's hesitation. the sheepishness sloughs off her voice when she glowers through the back of weems' head [ ... ]

with eyes mirroring against the fallen evening, vi takes a long drag before she speaks: ❛ ────don't do that again, ❜ she says resolutely, breathing the cloud of smoke through her nose. when her voice steadies, she might as well have been discussing the weather. ❛ you want one? ask. i'm not one of the little pushovers in there that you think you can walk all over .. respect my shit, or you're on your own. ❜

the gasp she lets out as arms slip into the curve of her waist is sharp, not quite startled by touch, but the tightness. the way she is grabbed makes vi’s intentions clear as day: this isn’t her first rodeo, and this isn’t the first time she’s taken a ride on this bull, either.

arms lock around vi’s shoulders out of reflex, she isn’t afraid she’ll be dropped c and that trust means far more than words can say. the care @f1sts has made so glaringly obvious in every touch, every movement, every glance. she resists the urge to hook her legs around vi in turn, for the sake of closeness, desire, control. she doesn’t. but the thought is still there, lingering.

a laugh pulls from her chest, an overflow of giggles that bubbles up into a full blown joyous sound. not the soft ring of bells one might find written about in romance novels, timid things ment for polite company. a full bellied thing, comfortable even if it is built from raw emotion, plucked straight from doll’s heart. shyness has only ever been an act for her, a display she puts on. but here and now, wrapped in vi’s arms she has no need for it.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐗 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐃 from brawler's chest; slightly more than a chuckle, but not quite a gust of laughter in the way tiffany unabashedly seemed able to express her mirth. until the moment, each display might've seemed somewhat forced and unnatural to behold. ( never been one to belly laugh about anything, have you? ) ( in your youth, that was your sister's work. ) you'd always been that thing that leaned smirking in doorways, never grinning. always chuckling, but never laughing. not really. it wasn't that you didn't have it in you .. was it?

a notion that might've made you falter, were you not so full of [ ... ] whatever this was. with @dollsbride's arms around your shoulders and a symphony of giggles playing into your ears — your hearts were beating together, separated only by bits of flesh and bone and sinew.

with the same strength and the same care that lifted her off the floor, you brought her back down again and winked an eye. ❛ ────i can do this all day, baby. ❜

it is likely her reaction to this whole ordeal is not quite normal, the idea she is fine with violet coming back to her like this. but the anger and worry have quickly quelled to give way for something else: amusement ? no, affection, something soft and warm, bubbling from her chest in a girlish giggle.

▐ ┃ ⊰ ' ᴾᴿᴼᴹᴾᵀ ﹖ ⤷ you should see the other guy.

a delicate hand cups vi's jaw, long black nails scratching gently at her skin, tilting that battered and bruised face skyward so the doll can get a better look at her. tiffany chides, a soft tsk of her tongue. “ you didn't exactly give me a chance, sweetface. ”

someone else might truly chastise, might wag a finger and proclaim : don't come home to me like this again ! on some moral high horse. tiffany doesn't. she is not so naive, not so hopeful as to think she is worth changing for. so while she might ask vi not to come home so bloodied she cannot stand on her own, she will not ask her not to fight.

“ — maybe next time you'll let me watch. ” doll coos in a tone that is far too close to sultry for the topic of conversation.

'𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄' [ ... ] 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐔𝐆𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 screws up your expression entirely; makes your eyes squeeze shut. the sting is only flesh deep, but it's dangerously close to pooling a stream of red into bloodshot grey until the rag is pressed into it. across the span of your life, you'd been called a great deal of things ⸻ savory and otherwise. never sweet, though ( not even by your folks, whom you've had to remember longer than you'd known ) ...

&. yet wasn't that @dollsbride's first endearment? you could hear it rattle into the shallow recesses of your memory when you try:

such a waste of a sweet face, she'd said.

cracking open your eyes again and gazing up at your lover's face when she tilts your head back, at first, finds your expression concealed beneath a blatant veil of skepticism .. but only until you lean the weight of your heavy head into her hand LIKE A DOG and realize it's because you'd never known her equal in any other person. the world outside had always strived endlessly to bend and then break you. to shackle your hands and feet! ( to tame your feral impulses, shaping you into something society might deem more appropriate. )

tiff accepted you as you are, without grimacing when the rawest parts of you were twitching and exposed like a nerve. you didn't know whether to be comforted or disturbed, so you settled on something in between. a small smirk nips at the corner of your mouth,

SHE'S   REGARDING   THE   OTHER   THROUGH   A   NARROWED   STARE   ,   HER   EYES   JUST   A   PAIR   OF   GLOWING   SLITS   ;   EVER   UNFEELING   AND   CALCULATED   IN   THEIR   STARE   .               they're   at   a   stalemate   ,   neither   one   yet   daring   to   make   the   first   move   .   it's   a   kind   of   tension   that   evelynn   loved   ;   bathing   herself   in   the   growing   frustration   of   the   other   .   the   threats   of   violence   only   served   to   make   the   demon   smile   …   promises   ,   promises   . 

“                hm   ,   so   very   quick   to   jump   to   the   only   thing   you   know   …            how   to   throw   a   punch   .                ”                    demoness   mused   ,   the   pads   of   fingertips   continuing   to   caress   the   heavy   metal   gauntlet   that   sat   in   her   arms   .   she   cradled   it   like   a   baby   ,   hugging   it   tightly   to   her   chest   before   letting   out   a   lengthy   sigh   .                     “                —if   i   tell   you   to   come   and   claim   it   ,   will   you   even   be   able   to   ?                 ”                    evelynn   tilts   her   head   to   the   side   ,   the   point   of   a   lasher   reaching   upward   behind   her   ;   curving   over   her   head   as   she   lifted   her   arms   .             SHE   PRESENTED   THE   GAUNTLET   FOR   THE   LASHER   ,   WILLING   IT   TO   CURL   ‘ROUND   THE   WEIGHT   OF   VI’S   GAUNTLET   .           the   appendage   lifted   it   away   ,   holding   tightly   the   glove   behind   evelynn's   back   . 

“                    entertain   me   and   i'll   return   your   little   weapon   .                ”                       it's   a   request   that   felt   non   negotiable   —    an   obvious   kind   of   test   for   the   demoness   to   gauge   her   own   interest   in   the   zaunite   .             CLAWED   HANDS   STRETCHED   FORWARD   ,    A   HEAVY   SHADE   OF   PINK   RISING   TO   SIT   ‘PON   HER   CHEEKS   .            it’s   almost   as   if   she's   offering   a   hug   ;   an   ever   loving   embrace   .                        “                come   to   me   !                 ” 

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄, 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 [ ... ] you'd been swinging those hands since the day you were cut from your mother, and you'd be swinging until your dead weight slammed down with a wet, meaty thud onto the pavement. the brawl was all you knew ; didn't matter who was on the other side or what they looked like. THERE WAS ONLY EVER MEAT AND BONE! looking back, you think that vander understood that better than anyone else, really ⸻ but he was gone. had been for a long time now.

( you can still remember staring down into his fading eyes when you try, ) ( still feel the unnatural pulse of shimmer beneath your hands as it coursed through his veins and threatened monstrosity in the form of a man )

the memory is torn in two. a flash of fear washes over your eyes when you watch the lasher stake it's claim upon the gauntlet ; but just as quickly as it twitched onto your expression, it was gone again without a word or a betraying gasp. if @evelicious blinked, she'd have missed it completely.

you release a long, almost tired sigh. then you bring your hands up over your face and the lone gauntlet hisses with another veil of steam : ❛ ────hm. 'gotten me this far, right? since most sump rats don't make it past single digits in the underground, i'd say i'm doing alright .. i know, i know. lucky me. ❜

"shrimp?" jane’s brows furrow tightly as her top lip curls upwards in a silent display of confusion; all in all she looks rather misplaced. "not a shrimp." she says dramatically, with a full chest and squared shoulders - it’s apparently necessary that violet understands she is a girl, not a creature from the sea. an expectant hand is suddenly held out, not taking no for an answer. "want to try one." she demands, wiggling her fingers (an attempt to entice a cigarette be placed in her open palm). "you do it… why not me? only want to try."

𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘, and it's soon followed by the very first inklings of a smirk nipping at one corner of your mouth. with a brow arching toward long fringe, vi turns her eyes away and situates the filter back between her lips; tucking the rest of the pack resolutely into her breast pocket. ❛ ────people say 'shrimp' to other people who are smaller than they are. er - sometimes. ❜

a hand shoots forward to playfully knock @shadowedvales' off center when she starts wiggling her fingers, ❛ hey - just because you see someone else doing it, don't mean you gotta do it too. these aren't good for you, and they smell bad── ❜

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒, and at first the comment merits only the shift of your gaze toward her. not quite looking her in the eye, but not looking at her mouth either. your brain's automatic response coughs to life, and you snort before you shrug a pair of broad, dismissive shoulders as though to say and? ⸻ ( but @hollowvictory was right, even if you refused to come out and say it. )

you were rough with yourself; rough with your own hands and your own body. even rougher with your expectations [ ... ] then again, somebody had to be.

❛ ────it has everything to do with it! you think mom and dad and vander stormed that bridge with everybody else because they didn't care about their dignity? in case you forgot, top-side is bleeding us dry. enforcers are kidnapping our people and tossin' them all in stillwater. you're just gonna let that happen? ❜

a quick slam of one fist against the nearest wall makes the remnants of the building shudder and groan. debris fall. dust permeates the air.