#calamitcus

❛      your  face  is  like  quicksilver,  always  racing  to  something  new.  you  unsettle  me.    ❜

@calamitcus​ --> 13. for one muse to kill to protect the other ( from caed )

she  was  on  her  own  at  the  edge  of  the  tree  line  near  the  camp  ,  just  outside   of  it   --  or  at  least  she thought  that  was  the case  .  suddenly  ,  her  arms  were  seized  behind  her  and  with  the  recent  injury  holding  her  back  from  giving  this  fight  her  all  she was  tossed  onto  the  dirt  rather  swiftly  .  the  impact  caused  a  groan  to  escape  past  her  lips  .  a  spear  to  her  throat  and  she  was  powerless  in  this  ---  until  a  figure sprung  from the branches above and with a kick , her  attacker  was  knocked  to  the  ground  within  seconds  with   a  blade  protruding  from  his neck . 

dizziness  slowed  her  reflexes  .  body  urging  her  to  stand  up  and  hurry   back  toward  camp  before  her  supposed  savior  turned  around  to   find   her  .  believing  that  they  would  snatch  her  up  to  use  as  a  pawn  in  this  neverending  game  against  the  clans  and  the  sky  people  .

USER :// @calamitcus​ _ diana INQUIRY ://  ❝ you know, we’re both getting too old for this. ❞ public string { injustice } ; accepting

          it’s in the aftermath of battle that the world is the world is the most quiet, despite all the ringing in his ears.  adrenaline is dissipating from his body with every beat of his heart.  whatever it was that made him hyper-focused on the battle slowly making way for the rest of the world.  and, transitioning from such two extreme states is always an awkward process.  diana’s words make the soldier stop, turn, then burst out in laughter.

         the soldier finds himself doubling over, bracing his gloved hands on his knees.  his head shakes.  on the one hand the statement is ridiculous.  on the other hand there’s so much truth behind it his heart hurts.  what is body ends up showing is the indecision on how to process everything, resulting in laughter.

         “ you know, i wasn’t supposed to live very long.  too sick, not enough money for medicine, not enough knowledge about everything wrong with me. stuff like that.  and now i’m...here, “ the laughter has him pulling in large amounts of air into his lungs.  that alone wasn’t possible in the earlier stages of his life.  hell, it hadn’t been possible when he was eighteen.  breathing was a chore.  

@calamitcus​ asked:   ❝ i’ll protect you. ❞  ( from caed )   /   accepting

          for the first time in days steve’s finally able to breathe.  small inhales because the world was still heavy, but it was a step.  in the short span of time since he’d woken up from the ice he’d been slammed with a number of interview requests.  he’d been contacted by someone telling him a lot of the things he was look for could be found at the smithsonian and that was an afternoon of yelling all by itself.  people shoved papers in his face asking him to sign military documents for various reasons. there’d been other people asking for his signature for a variety of reasons, both legal and personal.  

                        he felt like a circus monkey all over again.

           “ mr. rogers? “  someone gently knocked on the fake bedroom door.  an intern.  it had been a different every time he looked up from his sketchbook.  try as he might, steve couldn’t bring himself to smile politely this time.  he was tired and he wanted his own space.  tied up money and weird legal definitions prevented him from cementing down his own apartment so, they’d generously let him stay in the mock bedroom they tried to trick him with.  and, he wanted out.  “ there’s someone here to see- “

          the world was getting smaller.  weird statement for a kid from brooklyn who dreamed of what lay beyond the stars.  

                         monsters.  that was the answer.

          standing at the window, steve’s arms cross over his chest.  diana’s office at the louvre was an interesting escape from the life he’d come to know with the avengers.  when he was in paris people tended to look away.  they didn’t give him a second glance.  captain america had no sway here.  and, there were a lot of days he was glad for that.  they could walk down the street without tripping in front of a camera.  every now and then some kid pushed a phone in front of his face but, overall, it was a beautiful reprieve.

pale fingers run through soft blonde hair , warm fingertips allow for the display of warmth despite the misleading tone that both bodies share. the male’s cheeks appear both kissed by the sun and drowned by the sea , while the raven haired female’s appear to never have seen sunlight , with a gaunt appearance that was so indicative of those that were blessed by the gods. the man’s head lays in the young woman’s lap , a woman who had sent the guard after him merely months before for his disrespect towards her king.          but their friendship was a strange one , and while the woman knew that at the end of the day her love for him was stranger and wilder than the woods they called home , it was not her place to define the relationship that they had --- however passionate it was. the winter wolf never referred to her as a lover , and she was smart enough not to place the words in his mouth , no matter her own emotions. so she settled for the love he was willing to give her , which rested somewhere above friendship , but in a strange and unnamed place , a safe space where neither of them would lose their head for the care they had for one another.