#bonecarvers

as mor and my friends had protected velaris, viviane had veiled and guarded the small city under her watch, offering safe harbor to those who made it. 

never forgetting the high lord and friend trapped under the mountain, never ceasing her hunt for finding a way to free him. especially while amarantha unleashed her horrors upon his court to break them, punish them. 

      → ⊰ “i wish i could be enough for you.” ⊱

        Amarion will never know why it pisses him off so much, thosewords. He doesn’t know if it’s the assurance they always fail to provide, theconfidence in which they’re being spoken, or the fact that he’s heard them somany fucking times before, but he knows that he hates it, despises it more thanmost things. Even more than he hates the way Avery watches him, with a calculatedgaze that is both cautious and unamused, impossible to read. He makes Amariontick on most days, the calm that surrounds him causing a twitch in Amarion’smuscles that keeps him glued to an ashtray.

Today, those words make him nauseous. Tomorrow they’ll makehim see red and fill him with rage. It’s different every time, but it’s neverpleasant. Because it’s not true. Those words, every variation of that sentence.It’s always a lie, and he always proves them wrong. The word never is too largefor him, for all of them. It’s incomprehensible and requires too much trust,the one thing that Amarion Rostom has never earned nor deserved.

For Avery to say never means no matter what, and for him tosay no matter what means that he doesn’t know Amarion very well. Mari didn’tneed his reassurance, or his pity, or whatever the fuck it was Avery felt whenhe looked at him. He wasn’t a sob story and he wasn’t desperate enough to letAvery think that he was. Amarion’s never needed anything more than what he’sgotten for himself, stolen for himself, by himself. Letting someone in was aweakness he couldn’t afford, and a time consuming objective he didn’t care for.Avery’s generosity wasn’t something he was grateful for, and it wasn’tsomething he would be lost without. Amarion would take and take and take for aslong as Avery would give, but when that door closed Amarion would never knockagain.

I won’t give up on you. The words are still reverberatingthrough him when he lifts his head, bleeding knuckles throbbing and themirrored glass surrounding his feet catching the light from the windows. Bilethreatens to climb its way from his throat, so he doesn’t speak yet in fearthat his stomach will betray him. Instead, he allows tired eyes to return thegaze Avery has settled on him. He finds solace in the fact that when he doesso, he feels nothing. Finds solace in the fact that Avery means nothing to himand that his empty words do nothing but dissolve in the acid of his gut. Heshould apologize for the broken mirror, but he won’t.

‘it’s not my fault’

 "i didn’t want to hold you back.“

It’s the honesty in his voice that makes her chest seizewith affection, the sincerity of his words that makes her heart ache withlonging. With pity. His tone is soft and considerate, reserved only for her. Achill sparks down her spine at the thought, at the idea of him having wordsonly for her, eyes only for her. It is thrilling, then uneasy. There is not enoughroom inside of her to feel both at once. The thrill of it rushes through herlike instinct, like a flame to gasoline. The uneasy flushes through her moreslowly, thick and heavy on her heart, lead in her bones. How someone couldsound so thoughtful, Massie will never know.

“So what you’re saying, is that you can’t keep up with me.”She teases, shifting in her seat. Her words are no less reserved for him thanhis are for her. The night previous hadn’t been his scene, she’d known, butsometimes it was nice to fool herself into thinking she could have both worldsat once existing in the same space. That Madison and Massie could be one person,that she had the fucking balls to let them be. Sometimes Charlie made herbelieve that. Other times, well.

Around them the soft cotton fuzz of conversation is theirsoundtrack, the afternoon breeze whispering around them like a veil. Sundaybrunch was never bearable. Massie spent most of them stiff in her seat,counting her breaths to pass the time and only speaking when spoken to, attempting with all of her effort to will herself invisible. But with herfingers laced with Charlie’s under the table like an anchor weight, she felt atease. She felt protected.

“Don’t worry,” she says as he lifts their hands and presseshis lips to the back of hers. “Next time we can something more your speed, likea take a nap.”