* 𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑺𝑯 / 𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻

@lescelerat ; dmitry sudayev, anastasia. main

@valseamour ; ella tremaine, cinderella. sideblog to lescelerat.

@lehistorien ; roger wakefield mackenzie, outlander. sideblog.

@armurie ; noho hank, barry. sideblog. medium to low activity.

@rosewatercounty ; eliot rosewater, god bless you mr. rosewater. sideblog. low activity.

“     that is …        interesting.     ”              her voice is dull,   loss of energy apparent not only in her appearance but in her tone as well.         she adjusts her bag strap,   not because it needs adjusting but because she needs to occupy her hands and mind with something concrete,   and makes a move to leave.        she doesn’t have it in her to stay,   not today.        perhaps tomorrow will be better,   her heart will feel lighter and her head less clouded with grief.        she has told herself this every single day since lucille died,   but it hasn’t proven true yet.        (     she doesn’t enjoy lying,   even to herself,   but it is better than succumbing to the enchanting power of hopelessness.     )

pale fingers curl around her wrist,   and usually katherine would have it in her to shake his hand off and berate him for initiating physical contact with her,   a woman he does not know,   but it is as if her body has been drained of all the fire and passion which it once held,   and she is left a lifeless vessel,   passing through life with as little might as possible.        but his touch seems to give her a zest of life,  if only for the passing moment they touch,   and katherine is able to think of nothing but the feel of his skin on hers           she thinks his touch is warm and comforting,   but doesn’t realise that it is in fact chilling down to the bone,   ice wrapping itself around her skeleton,   seeping into the depths of her being.        his face is handsome,   his smile charming and his kind eyes the color of a vibrant blue.            (     heaven reflected in his gaze.     )              then the wind shifts,   the breeze pulls a curtain to the side,   allowing her a glance at what was once hidden and father alexander is ancient,   terror in his eyes,   lips curling in a haunting smirk        the wind shifts once again,   his handsome face is back,   and katherine forgets ever seeing him as anything other than a comforting priest with the most inviting smile.

“     yes,   i’m         i’m pretty sure.     ”              this is another lie.        for some reason it is suddenly very easy to envision herself accepting his offer of a cup of tea,   to follow him to his office at the back of the church and forget all about her responsibilities,   her appointments,   dmitry who she is meant to meet for dinner in an attempt to give their relationship the attention it sorely needs …        her head lifts,   her dark gaze meets his light one and suddenly she finds herself agreeing,   her lips even mirroring his,   the ends of her mouth curling just the slightest bit upward.

“     do you have coffee,   father alexander ?     ”

there, there, with only the slightest hints of patience he will get what he wants, what he can feel his fingertips already craving for / more than his fingertips, the tar-black heart of his perpetually guilty soul, the blood in his ice-cold veins, the skin on his bones wanting her near, needing her this close and that much closer     ( until all the lights flicker out )      and like this, he can watch all of her walls come down, the resolve trickling away. you want to stay here, don’t you? here, where it is warm and welcoming, where open arms will embrace you and there’s a hand to hold. misery loves company after all, darling, and the devil is here to waltz with you. he clears his throat, and his gaze softens that much more for her, like a blanket on a freezing winter’s night, here to offer comfort and safety. a dangerous kind of safety, yes, but safety nonetheless, and isn’t that what matters? for all the cruelties committed by men wearing the same robes as he is right now, no one would ever suspect holy men like him in the first place. oh, those daft humans.

                  ❛ i know that it is interesting, lots of people come here to appreciate the artwork,  ❜   his voice kind, his explanation superficial. he is just giving her more of his time, and more importantly, more of the light timbre of his voice. this, it will sink beneath her skin and claw his way into her conscious, her heart, the throbbing between her legs perhaps when she will find her boyfriend cannot satisfy her anymore either   ( neither emotionally nor physically if he plays his cards right,  oh, dmitry will just grow quieter and quieter, more distant, and colder by the minute  ;  almost like sleeping with a corpse. he chuckles on the inside, always on the inside, staring at the librarian with the thickly rimmed glasses hiding those stark azure eyes  ; his most striking feature perhaps. burrowed his way right into katherine’s heart, but he knows how to go far d e e p e r than that ). her skin, so soft, and her wrist delicate beneath his gentle grip that only lasts for so long  /   YOU ARE HER WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING.   it doesn’t need more than that, and his smile remains firmly on his lips, only widening as she slowly gives in to him and his advances. what a promising start.                   ❛ yes, actually i do! back in my office, ❜   he leans in closer, a whiff of his aftershave carried by the air right over to her, lowering his voice as if to clue her in on a secret.                           ❛  the congregation thinks we are all saints and abstain of every temptation, but i find the most tempting are the most mundane perhaps.  ❜    a wink, his smile light as air.      

                                     she is prettier than her sister, far, far beyond the boring simplicity of lucille with her forgettable face and her forgettable stories. half of what he did to that girl was just to get  𝐇𝐄𝐑 walking into this church anyway. it seems to have worked out marvelously, oh, praise the lord and every saint who has ever cursed him     ——      and there are just so many of them, and he will upright himself again, his eyes wandering over her now as he is sure she is not paying attention to him too much; he can sense her mind working overtime, the cogs in a well-oiled but lately rusty machine, coming to the only logical conclusion his sweet demeanor could offer. he smiles still.                  ❛ mass is over, so just follow me. you look like you could use that cup of coffee, and guess what, so do i. ❜         his steps are light on the church floor and as he starts moving towards the altar, where off to the side the door to his   (   𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔵𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯’𝔰  )    office is. still, with bright eyes stay trained on her, and he will fall into step beside her, making sure there is no way for her to leave NOW. he nudges her with his elbow,                    ❛ and i told you to call me father alex. ❜