Mar 24, 2020
best waffle added to the group 👌👌
carver is the waffle. lami is the syrup. izzy is the butter.
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best waffle added to the group 👌👌
carver is the waffle. lami is the syrup. izzy is the butter.
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‘ i’m going to be out for a while. the travel to ennis is long, take care of lami while i’m gone, will ya ? ‘ he hums, though he’s sure that he will take care of the girl. he’d spent lengths of time doing such a thing before carver even shown his face into the city.
‘ she’s worrisome when she doesn’t have someone watching her. ‘ his tone gravel as his speaks, ivory gaze shifting outward toward the tufts of field outside of the castle as he leans against balcony to watch his bride as she lifts a raven into the air to set him aloft. ‘ don’t let her follow me either. --------- i don’t want her seeing the death. ‘ / @agedking
✿
✿ for a sweet kiss on the cheek.
the action, in & of itself catches her by SURPRISE. & she despises it. not the action, but the surprise that comes along with it, the hitch in her throat, the GASP in her lungs. the mirren coven has been nothing but kind - he has been nothing but kind.
the desire to return home still bubbles occasionally in her chest - if not for her father, then for the two at home that call her sister , who rely on her for decisions & protection, [ since joham has neglected the three of them of that. ] but they will be okay for a little longer -- they have always been okay without her.
so lost is she in the thoughts of the future, that the press of lips upon her cheek is registered a moment LATE, as pale fingers gently reach to caress the spot he left, burning on her skin.
‘ BE CAREFUL, ‘ she jests - a first ! ‘ I may delay my departure with such offerings. ‘ // @agedking
“ it’s not a dream , it’s a memory ”
an attempt to connect --- she is grateful for the amount of patience & time the other has poured in to listening . the tales she tells are sporadic, and vague - there is a deep, DESPERATE longing to decipher the emotions of what she could only describe as dreams, because what else could there be -
a memory. alasdair murmurs it is a memory.
& suddenly it is. & suddenly there are more. and she can feel the warmth in her chest, there are words in her head, from a language she has never learned but can understand - it is her mother. her mother is speaking.
the divots in her skin only deepen , lines from decades of perpetually frowning accentuated as the information sinks in. ‘ I wish it wasn’t. ‘ // @agedking