stellar. *

her hand within the comfortable grasp in his lap increases its grip, softly, almost as though she is afraid he’ll let go. behind his seemingly blood-stained countenance lies a gentleness he once was berated for, by someone who should have loved him unconditionally  ( that must be why he is afraid to show this extension of himself, why he is afraid of the reaction from those who see; but, it is a beautiful thing for her to have the pleasure of witnessing ), and she welcomes it with open arms. it is a part of him she is enamored with, and a part of him he reserves for her alone. she wants him to understand how much value it has with her. ❝ now that one of our biggest obstacles is out of the way, perhaps there is. ❞ a sigh escapes her lips as she closes her eyes and leans into him, an effort to capitalize on the innocent bliss permeating their presences.

❝ i apologize for being more absorbed in other things; truthfully, everything has been a little suffocating. ❞

❝ please— do not apologize, ❞  a plea in earnest because she is not to blame for the sum of his people’s mistakes—   there are errors he must correct with utmost urgency  ( when he’s rested and recuperated the energy lost to ascending his rightful throne ).  with elegance unbound does she uphold the duties bestowed upon her as one of the last remaining alteans and heiress to their people;  is a light meant to cast out the remaining darkness in the universe. it’s a heavy burden to bear alone, he knows, especially when she watches the rest of her team pine for their families and loved ones while she lost her own. it’s a sentiment he knows far too well, and it’s one they share.  ❝ i understand the pressure of the worlds’ eye resting on you, but you are not alone, allura. ❞

there is a pause between words exchanged on behalf of the race kieth had begrudgingly lost, temper flared when he hadn’t expected the sudden change in course he’d taken because he knows the city just as well as someone born and raised in it. of course, his knowledge comes with his interest in meandering every street corner, every small  hole - in - the - wall  coffee shop, and every possible escape route should he ever need to take one. it’s something that comes with natural ease once he’s remembered each landmark  ( this one having been the interesting statue used to commemorate the town’s founder;  flashy and eccentric as he seemed to be ).  he watches keith’s lips form the words that berate him for the use of an alternate route in order to win—  he even vaguely hears his voice bemoan that doing so was against whatever rule he’d made up in his head to justify his own loss. in truth, lotor’s only half listening to the rant so willingly uttered as if to talk some sense into him, but he’s far more focused on the way his brows narrow when he speaks with passion  ( albeit anger ).  flared indignation does not dull the beauty of his features nor does it cease the way lotor leans in without realizing. when keith stills, he’s asked what he’s doing, and even he himself doesn’t know—  it’s a movement he’ll have to justify when it happens. his palm cups the delicate skin of his cheek before he finally understands what it is he truly wants;  and what he wants is the gentle union of his lips with those that have likely sworn to annihilate him moments earlier.

he’s met with little resistance;  a contrast to his expectation of being rejected entirely for the sake of his pride. their kiss is broken moments later when lotor remembers that it was an argument they were supposed to be having. a step backward is taken, space provided.  

Taken from: @bluechose

Tagging: @lnstinctalone  &  @astradivide  &  @prudentiae  &  @alteamade

they wait in muted anticipation, an anxious spell washed over them both as one awaits the other to speak first. he dares not, knowing his wrongdoings extinguish any hope of redemption he may have had in her grace. she is kind to him still, allowing him within her presence after all she thinks he’s done—  every story out of context, but he dares not open his mouth to dissuade her. the prince, even with  well - meaning  intentions, cannot deny that the means do not satisfy the end result he wished for  ( a new altea kept safe from the treachery of those once considered allies ).  there is not enough cunning in the world to convince her that those he’d sacrificed were not so in vain, but were instead used for the protection of the remainder of their people. he’d made due with what was known to him, resources destructive and conniving when all he wished for was the safety of their future. it seems a distant dream crumbling and dissipating like dust between his fingers that he should ever have thought he would escape the legacy of his father.

eyes follow her every movement even if he cannot meet hers. he’ll watch as her back turns to him, yet still she speaks as though she’s disarrayed that she could never forgive him. it’s a resolution he’s willing to accept, especially after he never even intended to tell her the truth about the depths of his past. lotor could not blame her if she deemed fit to never speak to or entertain an audience with him ever again  ( even if his heart yearns for him to apologize and right the wrongs she hates him for,  even if there will never be a way ).  a resigned sigh escapes the hollows of his lungs through the mass sitting at the edge of his throat. it is everything he wished he could assure her with—  every promise he wished to make to her that everything would work out and that he would be better—  but he  dares not  air them. instead, he will stand silently behind the walls they’ve both built after all the insurrection and mistrust all because he couldn’t speak then.