#deceivor

        a long, low whistle rings out from the cage under which charlie sits cross-legged in the dirt. they must do this to intimidate the prisoners, why else would you keep sparring dummies right next to where innocent (at least in her case) captives sit? and with her own rifle just a few inches out of grasp. 

        “that’s some pretty sweet slicing you got there, never seen weapons like yours before.” is it possible to look casual when you’re covered in dirt and have your hands tied behind your back? charlie’s trying, at least. “you design ‘em yourself?”

THE CUTEST EVER

        “coo-ee!” ilia calls, not a second before she darts from one tree to the next. it’s an unfair little game, one that vernal can’t hope to win no matter how skilled a hunter she is. in the dim light of evening, the best time to catch some of the more nocturnal beasts that roam the woods outside the bandit camp, ilia’s nigh undetectable. she watches vernal spin around, doesn’t catch the way her eyes follow the sound of her feet through crispy leaves. “told ya you’d struggle to play hide and seek with me.” 

        ilia falls silent, and darts towards another tree. 

        ‘no, no, i,’ coco starts, then stops, mouth hanging open like she’s abandoned it mid sentence, realization coming over her. suddenly vernal is right there, having just recently punched her dickweed of a father in the face—something she’s always dreamed about but never had the courage to say aloud, much less ask of anyone—and now she’s asking if coco’s okay, if she needs anything, as if it actually matters. like a punch in the gut, it hits her: vernal really cares. it’s a revelation that comes over coco in a wave...right before the tsunami of guilt. here she was all this time, trying to take advantage, to be a flirt, while vernal was only trying to be a good person and fucking help. god. with that knowledge, it’s hard not to be sickened with herself for even trying (why would she want you?).

      shifting away from vernal, coco takes in their room, starting to sit on the edge of the bed, then changing her mind and choosing to perch on the nearby low table instead. a sigh, her hands sweeping over her face. then she looks up at vernal (can’t help but smile, just a little bit). 

     ‘i guess i’m just...surprised. he’s always been so high and mighty. no one i knew would ever dare.’ she shakes her head. ‘too easy for him to ruin your social life and ostracize you from society forever if you even said the wrong thing. but you...’ coco stares at vernal for a moment, then shakes her head again with a small laugh, somewhat incredulous at their situation, at her.

    ‘i guess all he needed was someone who didn’t give a shit about any of that,’ she eventually says, unable to stop herself from smiling when she says it (replace he with i and it’s the same sentiment). ‘i. thank you, vernal. seriously. i honestly don’t know...’ just spit it out! except, wait, don’t, because she’s way too good for you and you’ll fuck it up. still, say something, anything, she’s your rescuer, for fuck’s sake. 

enter  the  lion ‘ s  den.

unprompted  gay.

      there ‘ s  always  an  unshakable  emptiness  lingering  within  sanctum  of  marble  heart  ‘ pon  vernal ‘ s  absences.  it ‘ s  to  be  expected  ;  she  ,  the  member  of  a  tribe  with  duties  &.  loyalties  woven  perfectly  for  raven  branwen  ,  would  never  stray  too  far  from  the  wilds  in  her  soul   &.   weiss  knows  that  all  too  well  ,  but  that  doesn ‘ t  make  times  like  this  hurt  any  less.   so  do  forgive  her  for  the  non  -  ladylike  pout  now  crossing  expressionism.  dancer  build  hunches  o ‘ er  atlas  cafe  table  ,  elbows  propped  up  on  table  top  ,  chin  being  cradled  by  ivory  carved  hands  whilst  saddened  baby  blues  gaze  absently  into  coffee  cup  ahead  of  them.  how  does  the  phrase  go    ?    if  you  love  something  ,    set  it  free  &.  if  it  comes  back  ,  it ‘ s  yours    ?   ah  ,  right.   lioness  would  never  outright  admit  that  one  syllable  word  to  vernal ‘ s  face  ,  whether  out  of  fear  or  some  form  of  childish  shyness  ,  but  she  knows  it ‘ s  there.   &.  maybe  that  is  what  ultimately  brings  vernal  back  to  her  in  the  end.