𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯.

dialogue prompts from the force of such beauty by barbara bourland.

you're more interesting than i thought.

i'm sure i can get a ride home.

i'm not scared of being yelled at.

we found a plot to kidnap you on the internet.

i'm starting to feel like my own person again.

i didn't expect you to be funny.

tell me why i shouldn't feel scared all the time.

i never get to be myself, except when i'm with you.

it doesn't matter. nobody matters except us.

i loved being pregnant. every single person smiled at me.

it's immoral to be so careless.

there's a difference in experiences and accomplishments.

you're not more of a person than i am.

it does not matter what you do, as long as you do it with confidence.

the best parent is one that can be counted on.

don't swear at me.

do you feel like that? paranoid?

i think it's been a lot. i think you need a break.

you must tell me. i am here for you, but i am not psychic.

you must not think the worst of others.

you don't know what things were like, before.

you must not make believe that you are above the law.

you have always been the most important person in the room.

i'm never here and never anywhere else.

i wonder what it's like to own your life, be in control of it.

thank you for everything.

you're a vision.

you didn't forget. you avoided it.

oh, my stars. profanity.

i think these weekends will be fun, until they happen.

do you mind if we sit here and don't talk?

you call it egomania, i call it confidence.

i could have been happier somewhere else.

easy to forget one is on display.

what makes you so special?

you're what makes me special.

i don't have time to fool around.

i love you, and i know you'll grow up to be a good person.

how can you keep so much of yourself from me?

you lie to yourself like you lie to everyone else.

you're the first person to ask me that in years.

you need to start protecting yourself.

do you want the details?

you never cared. you don't have the right to care now.

i only need to be loved.

you thought it was a secret, didn't you?

you stopped wanting me.

i ran out of things to give you.

you're allowed to make mistakes.

i don't see what purpose there is in unhappiness.

life is not a one-way street.

it's one of those days when it feels like there's nothing to wear.

take it. it's the perfect color for you.

you have to get up every day and keep going, no matter what.

i could have learned a lot from you.

you're saving my life.

that can't be all you wanted to say.

i am sick of being uncomfortable all the time.

@merdeva  asked: " you get the most delightful wrinkle in your brow when you are curious. "

“You always say the sweetest things.” He’s splayed beneath her at the heart of her domain, a place of cold stone and living shadows. Once upon a time, he was a creature of the sunlight; but the more the decades pass, the more he begins to see the place with an amicable familiarity. The grandeur and artistry of it—the darkness that curls around them like an affectionate cat. Perhaps it’s a sign that he’s grown corrupted, or perhaps it’s merely her.

He sees less of Inara now that she’s locked away from the mortal realm. He knows little of what she does, and sees only the facets of her scheming that bleed into his mandate: to kill, discontent, dismantle. That mind of hers has always been disturbing in its brilliance—it was part of what drew him to her. And even now, as he watches in morbid fascination at the empires crumbling beneath her influence, he cannot help but be drawn into her snare.

He’s beneath her on the dark expanse of her bed (does she even use it when he’s not here? does she even sleep?) but as she kisses down his throat, eager fingers pulling at his clothes, he feels a primal twinge of satisfaction at her desire. He knows it’s a wicked thing, to be wanted so—to covet her submission when it’s she who sits above all else. And yet, this is a place of indulgence above all else: somehow, she always finds the thread of his inner darkness and pulls. And he’s simply grown too tired to resist it anymore.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d grown lonely up there on your throne.” There’s a smile on his lips as he speaks, voice low and thick with desire. She tugs open his robes to bear his chest, and he hisses at the sting of her claws as they rake down sensitive skin. His head rolls back momentarily, breath coming fast and heavy now. She’s eager to lay claim to his body, even as he claims hers; he rolls up into her, kissing her, hungry palms following the contour of her waist to her hips, her thighs, her rear. He's shameless as he drinks in the sight of her—the touch of her warm body—marveling at how easily she can still stoke his lust after so many years.

it is a pleasure to take her mask off with solomon... in quite a literal way. as soon as that monstrosity of gild and iron has been lifted off her face, she feels as though she can finally breathe –– though, perhaps that is simply her proximity to solomon, the man who holds the whole of her blackened heart in his hands. hands with the ability to snuff out the very last vestiges of her humanity, should he ever forget the power he holds over her. it is a delightful game of tight-rope they play together... her, careful not to push him too far, and him, careful of falling into her unending darkness. one guess as to who trips more often.

❝ I'm always lonely without you, my dearest, ❞ inara breathes, as though the words might strangle her otherwise. her eyes take him in greedily, drinking the sight of his marvelous beauty in like gulps of rich, strong wine. her core tightens, muscles turning liquid at the shape of solomon's erection beneath her, the tight clench of his nipples. oh, she salivates.

and why should she not forsake this home? it's walls were monument and testament to a goddess who had wholly forsaken her, left her stripped of all traces of divine magic, allowed her holy power to be twisted into something ruinous and shadowed... what did it matter that this place had once been all that mattered to her when all that mattered had been desecrated? the ruins around her felt much like the ones within her and celeste felt nothing... nothing but relief. there was no one here to sit in judgment of her, and that alone made it easy to turn her back.

but she would allow inara this taunting request, reaching up to capture her hand, leading her down the hallways that were as familiar as anything. shattered art was stepped over with little care or notice, picking her way through the rubble and not letting herself stop to wonder how many had escaped. no bodies to be found; but then the true souls didn't always want slaughter, did they? how many of her former friends would be her enemies now?

the thought faded away as they turned into the dormitory that celeste had once called sanctuary. five beds lined the walls, all similar in structure. at one time, they would have been made to perfection, the only sign of life being the personal belongings on and around them for each other the five girls who lived within. celeste's bed was the only one that looked untouched now, all signs pointing to a hasty, middle of the night departure from the rest. she would not think on it, she would not dwell, she would not —

inara brushed the very tips of her fingers along the immaculately made bed, as though no one had ever rested there, and perhaps now no one ever would again. certainly, she knew celeste wouldn't, and perhaps that thought brought her more than her fair share of pleasure to consider. ❝ it's rather quaint, ❞ she said with that same smirk as before. she took up the pillow between her hands as though inspecting its firmness, though really it was because suddenly she could imagine the intimacy of celeste's horned head laid upon it. the vicious voice of her urge imagined how easy it might have been to cleave it from her shoulders –– she paid such bloody thoughts no mind, and instead set the pillow back down. there was nothing of celeste's scent of peaches left on it. it was as worthless as the rest of this fallen temple.

❝ one day, I aspire to have a temple of my own, you know. perhaps something less... ❞ what was the word she'd used? ah, yes. ❝ ––quaint. something more dramatic will do. gothic architecture never goes out of style, you know. ❞

@merdeva's words are a velvety whisper, spoken so close that their companions spread around the temple would never hear — this was just for celeste, just between the two of them. they are a soft reminder but a solid promise, steeling her shaking limbs and sealing the crack that ran through her heart. the two halves would never be fused again, but... celeste wasn't sure she wanted them to be.

to fully heal would be to take a step backward. moving back into selûne's embrace, returning to her former path, as if none of it had ever happened. but it had. selûne had abandoned her for her failure, left her hallow and broken. the scars she gained in the aftermath were proof of her survival.

turning her gaze from the statue of her former goddess, she looked into the eyes intently watching her now. "nor i, you." she had made her own promises, a new oath, and she intended to follow it as fervently as she had the former. maybe more so, in some ways, if the heat rushing through her was any indication of the emotion that the dark aasimar could draw from her.

inara could see now that if she succeeded where others failed, she could have it all once more. not a cult in the name of some other lesser being ( her father, of all things ), but a following of her own. a portfolio in her own name. her own divinity, her own immortal resonance. and with it, selûne's fallen, recast in stronger steel and iron.

"Is it? And what lie do you think I am believing in?" His tone was even and his expression looked blank. The flicker of primal rage and life moved behind his good eye, but whatever feelings her question invoked he kept close to his chest.

❝ hm. ❞ for a moment, inara said little more, tapping a bloodied nail along the center of the book. her hands were so often drenched in entrails that her nails were now forever stained a rusted red –– she ought to find some lacquer for them. perhaps something in a shade of black. ❝ that would make sense. ❞ she was careful to keep her expression blank, if on the annoyed side, as any cult-leader might feel to hear their plans potentially going awry. in the back of her mind, inara could feel her deva's attention awaken, a flicker of interest sparking –– a conversation for later. ❝ we'll have to keep an eye out for any of his worshippers as we come closer to achieving our goals. ❞