#aevyternal

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 ,   the way that she moves ,   the murmur of her heart   (  too soft ,   too weak ,   to be beating within a living humans chest ) ,   the scent of DEATH that clings to her skin & very being .   The Devil knows she's there before she speaks ,   head barely turning aside to glance at her ,   before lowering gaze to the cup held within her hands   (  scarred ,   obscenely so ,   yet hers are the hands that string together delicate arts .   A master of her craft  ) .   Her voice ,   the promise of spring's bloom after the cold winter nights ,   a balm that smooths over the ravaged parts of a soul .   It's mesmerizing ,   the effects she has on the world around her ,   yet memory reminds them of Grimmjow's words ,   of the smile that never dissipates  &  the kindness that is given to a world that turned its back on her .   How curious ,   that there had been no attempt to turn against it all ,   to forsake humanity with the knowledge that there would be little to no opposition   (  or so the Devil would believe  ) .   The time that trods between them feels too long as the cup remains within her hold ,   &  he can tell that there is that moment's deliberation of whether or not she had made the right call to approach him when lost in thoughts .   The building tension soon enough dispelled as gloved hands lift to take the cup ,   fingers gently grazing over her own   (  skin as cold  &  lifeless as bitter stone ,   though their seeming frailty akin to that of fragile porcelain  ) ,   an acknowledgement of what it was that she sought ,   though keenly aware of the needlessness of it when faced with the growing familiarity between them .

Colorless gaze lifts to hers ,   searching ,   allowing a soft exhale from lungs in the form of a gentle SCOFF .   Silence ensues in the seconds after ,   drawing the cup closer  &  lifting rim to lips .   Darjeeling .   Curious that she would have known to bring him this blend without prior knowledge of those few teas that were highly sought after .   Though ,   is it so strange ?   As they listen to her continue ,   it dawns on them that the knowledge would have had to have been imparted on her by someone that knew the Devil's particular tastes   (  as close as Dante claimed to be to the elder ,   the particulars of loose leaf seemed to often elude him  ) .  

                          Grimmjow .

Single sip taken before it begins its descent ,   though it pauses momentarily in its trajectory as he glances back over towards Ebony .   Jaw setting at the hesitation of the word's subject that surrounds them day in  &  day out .   A quiet prompt to give voice to the weight she fears bringing to their conversation as bottom of cup CLINKS against saucer .     

                    ❛    ────   Died .    ❜        No reason was there to shy away from the truth they both were well aware of .   The black STAIN that had smeared a large majority of their life ,   the hollow knight that followed the orders of none other than the being that had carved out the humanity that had resided ,   molding it by hand into something more PALLETABLE  &  OBEDIENT .   Remnants of a soul remained regardless ,   with the looming threat of being consumed ,   eradicated ,   forgotten .   The only mercy ,   was the destruction of the walking prison  &  near destruction of their soul .   A final HEARTBEAT drowned out by echoing screams  &  the strike of metal against the cold stone ground  (  a brother left without half their being ,   without having known the grave sin until it was too late  ) .   In one place ,   events led to another ,   in juxtaposition ?   Two souls had continued to bond even in the face of ABSENCE .  

He looks to her then ,   carefully scanning her features as she glances to him  (  shock ?   Astonishment ,   perhaps ?   at the brazen admittance of their brief departure from this life  ) .   Low hum exudes from them ,   shifting gaze towards the cup in their hand  &  allowing finger to uncoil from the handle ,   thumb  &  forefinger gently rubbing together pensively .   That Grimmjow continued to hold the Devil in high regard is what struck him at most ,   ODD ,   if only due to the nature of disappearance ,   to have effectively been left ABANDONED by the Devil  (  through no intentional means ,   especially not for so long  ) .   

                    ❛    I believe he may underestimate how sentimental he can actually become .   Counterintuitive to the claim that he has no heart .    ❜        Harshness is immensely dulled ,   left only with the soft ember of warmth that tone oft finds itself bereft of .   Softness had never been familiar to them ,   a foreign behavior that was all too often attributed with WEAKNESS ,   yet here they stand as living proof of where true weakness had lay   (  a contusioned heart being the last thing to contribute to those baseless accusations  ) .   Form gradually SHIFTS from the woman ,   though not without the brief hesitation that stutters movement .   He deliberates on whether or not there should be words of COMFORT exchanged in the prompted topic ,   that perhaps she sought confirmation from the Devil himself on the state of their feelings towards the arrancar .        ❛    To be speaking of me even in absence ,   it's difficult to imagine .    ❜        Voice lowering to a near murmur ,   fingers gently running over the ridged design adorning the side of the teacup in hand .   There had been those mentions ,   where loneliness had set in  &  company sought in the form of a particular tender-hearted woman .   In a past not too long ago ,   there would have been the harsh judgement of such a FOOLISH desire ,   in seeking companionship in another rather than finding the capability to stride forth  &  dispense of a memory that no longer maintained its tangibility .   Now ?   Vergil finds no fault in the the decision   (  had come to mistakenly accept the passage of time  &  the growth of another  ) ,   though now it continuously seems to shift  &  change as days are spent in company of two souls rather than one .   An unprecedented development ,   but one that he did not find himself opposed to the more he came to learn of the melancholic woman .

Eyes drift back towards her ,   as hands lightly fold before her in meeting the Devil's gaze .   Where he would have expected her to look away ,   she instead maintains eye contact even as her posture ever so slightly changes under the weight of the Devil's piercing eyes   (  as if they saw right through ,   yet this time they're met with those that understood souls  ) .   This time ,   it is the Devil that lowers their gaze ,   releasing a quiet exhale .

                    ❛    What I have done ,   should have drawn his ire .   That he still found it within himself to ──    ❜        A pause ,   looking back at the pale woman with slanted brows .        ❛    ──   You should realize that he has learned to love you ,   as well .   Do not doubt that .    ❜

— It is as though she is powerless to resist any request from the beauty, obediently Drathenia bows until she is level with Ebony, hollow gaze raking over her; curious as it was HUNGRY. Always hungry for her. As rosebud lips brush against hers, she has the taste for her, and she has to fight every fiber of her being not to devour her then. Her bitter touch for once warm against another, as Ebony was just as wintery as she, a rarity for the monster that she cherished and savoured. 

Crimson lips part and the monster’s cool breath flutters against cherubic pout, clawed hands rise to clasp her face in a nigh desperate hold, her kiss ardent and forceful, as though she has been starving. VICIOUS teeth threaten to pierce through skin- but never do, she is always careful. She could never hurt her. A purr, easily mistaken for a beastly growl, rumbled within her chest and she finally withdrew only by fractions to speak.

“  Will that be all. . . my love?  ” she murmurs, black tongue flickered against Ebony’s lower lip, the smile that flashes can only be described as WOLFISH. 

            𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎 𝐒𝐎. It felt safe and distant here with Ebony. His skull throbbed and Sliske closes one eye in hopes it would stop the unsteady motion even though he’s not in motion, planted on his back on a bed. Without the dampening aid of morphine, there released a singular ‘ugh’. Whether the noise was in reference to his PATHETIC state or just an onomatopoeia of how he nauseatingly felt was unknown.

  muscles twitch out of habit, calloused digits far more accustomed to the harshness of steel than the entwining of fingers. yet there’s something strangely grounding about ebony’s touch, chilled and tender, a stark contrast to her own.  she is brutal and often unforgiving, far more cynical than body language denotes, and although she knows ebony is no wilting flower she exudes a gracefulness lira does not posses. an ethereal goddess both death incarnate and beauty.

‘    so,   you call for an exterminator?    ’

JFKDLAFDKSA ICFB--