#abraxasmlfoy

Abraxas was an boy made of blue ice. Brilliant, hard, and unbreakable—he would either stay wholly intact or pieces of him would shear off, but never would he shatter. He was wise beyond his years, built up on so much knowledge and nuance all compressed into one being. He was a late afternoon sky after rain, subtle and untouchable. He was navy velvet, vieux riche, luxe and refined and classic. Abraxas was a new bruise, black-and-blue, inescapably attached to the memory of something unpleasant, no matter how hard you try to forget or how much you want to separate the cause from the effect. He was a sapphire, he was the dark blue ring around the iris of a fair-eyed maiden, the endless blue of the ocean deep. But, when Fiora saw Abraxas for the first time—she a first year, he a third—he was framed not by a weeping sky nor was he wearing anything more than his Hogwarts robes and Slytherin colors, and she did not think of him as cold, but rather she smiled up at him—shyly, unknowingly, delicate as the four soft petals of a periwinkle hydrangea and cheeks rounded like grape hyacinths—and met his eyes with wonder. She’d seen blue eyes before, but never a pair that struck her as so piercing. He had eyes filled with such purpose, as though he knew without a doubt the direction he was going, and his eyes were ever looking towards a goal unseen to her. It was a brief moment swamped in her mind alongside seconds just as brilliant to her, but from time to time, when she sees him in the halls, she wonders if it’s just a trick of the light or if his eyes are not longer the same shade of surety.

Here!

send it’s just six words for a six word story between your muse and mine.

          “ You look terrible in that suit, Abraxas, “ Walburga purred with a weight in his name as it rolled from her lips that held a deep red stain to them. “ You would do well to take it off immediately. “ Oh, her little white lies filling the air between them as her hand lifted to adjust his collar with her nails running across his skin in a tease. His control of their every move being enough for her to focus on him more than her own steps. She would have said more, but it was his gave that silence her as if he saw right through her — secrets and all.  

name: 🐍  Malfoy ⁉️ringtone: Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven

A follow up, more specific: ❛ —what do they look like when they bleed? ❜

Druella’s mental state is quite a fragile one, on the surface, but it’s surprisingly resilient the deeper you go. She is delicate, she is gentle and kind and spectacular, but she is also willfully blind. Dru is aided in that regard, shielded from most of the horrors of the world, but even if she sees them for a moment, she cannot bear to look and would much rather bury her head in the sand. Thus, her negative emotions -- anxiety, worry, sadness, irritation -- are tossed aside in favor of remaining perfect, remaining pure. She knows more of her reputation than even she would care to remind herself of.