#divinascriptura

It's loud and dark. The bass coming off the large speakers at the back of the room makes it feel like the whole house is shaking. And the lights are off, replaced by multicolored beams, mood-lights. It reminds her of being in Weiss's room with his music on almost, just.. Uncomfortable.

Some house on Danube street, one of Whitney's friends. Kind of posh interior but that didn't seem to matter to the other fuckheads spilling booze they probably weren't even old enough to be drinking yet all over the upholstery. The smell of it permeates the air : a cloying mixture of sour alcohol, sweat, whatever floozy febreze had been sprayed before the party started (probably by well meaning parents out for the night leaving behind a spotless house,) and.. Yeah, she definitely smelt weed too. It had started to make her head hurt a while ago, but nowhere in the damn house was quiet. She'd tried to slink off to every niche she could find but it wasn't entirely safe to be alone right now either. She wasn't superstitious but something about the date must have been drawing that thing out.. Brief flashes of unmistakable ivory from the corners of her eyes every so often. Fucking stalking her through the house but unable to make a move thanks to the crowds of warm bodies. How could nobody else see it.. Even if she hadn't particularly wanted to be here, she supposed she should thank Whitney for dragging her along anyways. If he hadn't, she would've been dealing with it alone. Serena just wished he hadn't made her wear such an uncomfortable 'costume.' Costume.. Except it was just this short, skin tight, turtle-neckish sweater shirt and tights with some heavier make-up. 'Looks like that dracula-bitch from motel whatever it was,' or 'a fuckin' witch then,' when she'd told him she had no idea what he was talking about.

Her attempts at shouldering past heavy bodies come to a screeching halt as she's jerked back. Familiar grip on her wrist forcing Serena to comply immediately in turning on her heel to follow after the blonde, they'd just end up playing tug of war until her arm popped out of the socket. She stumbles along, not bothering to ask where they were going, he wouldn't have been able to hear her anyways. It's a blur of RGB disco-esque lights, stupid costumes and shuddering speakers.. Then they're alone. The flimsy wood of the bathroom door doing little to drown out the noise of the party outside it now that it's been closed, but it's enough to think at least. Serena blinks, ruby latching on to aqua as her head tilts upwards enough to meet his gaze. She's a little dazed.. From the party and the tension.. But that doesn't stop her from noticing-

She can't help herself, the corners of her lips twitching upwards nearly imperceptibly at his whining. A singular, amused push of air through her nose following. She's not laughing at him.. Well, kind of. He looks like a disgruntled cat that's just had booties put on it's paws, kicking his feet all put-out like that to shake a clinging twig off his pants.

Sleep was a strange beast for the warrior of light, she’d curbed her nocturnal tendencies for the sake of her diurnal companions but slipping back into old habits was easier than she’d like to admit - Especially when she was presented with such proper and comfortable bedchambers as their new Sharlayan residence provided. Much as she was accustomed to (and generally happy with) nights outdoors and makeshift beds within forest canopies or ramshackled lodgings.. The allure of a clean, soft bed and pillow set was more than she could resist.

Comfortable silences were the norm throughout a majority of the time they spent together while she worked. It took very little speaking to run her kingdom, and she wasn’t of the mind to expend such efforts unless necessary (that being, during her free time with him,) in an attempt to speed things along. For all her distaste about the way it had been allotted to her, Hel’s abode was something the goddess took great pride in running.. And doing so efficiently, properly. So, more often than not she was so focused on her work that Hel would not take notice of anything else happening around her. It was for this reason that she had seen a secondary throne constructed beside hers - For him to use, to be close to her while she toiled, and to be able to more easily attract her attention if he needed.

Still, even with the increased closeness.. It wouldn’t be until his fingers began to ghost along the lines of her palm that a rare shudder would spring up her form, jolting the woman to attention.

 Her usual range of facial emotion making the way her eyes widen look almost comical as Hel’s gaze shifts from her lists to where their hands are not met. Uncharacteristic warmth blooming on her cheeks from being caught so off guard and her bodies reaction.

It had been pouring rain all day. Which meant that focusing on class was harder than normal, especially with all the windows in the building, and the constant hum of the downpour.  It was all review, all things she already knew or didn’t need to know, is what she had told herself to rationalize the decision to leave when lunch began. She’d do more good for herself studying at home.

Clara had forgotten her umbrella, which meant the twenty minute walk between her apartment and the school building would have to be suffered through in a sprint. Hustling along the sidewalk and taking whatever cover she could, it was thoughts of getting through the front door and changing into dry clothes.. Of warm snacks and a drink, that consumed her mind. She wasn’t paying attention, just trying to get home. So, when her lunch time alarm goes off on her phone and she pauses mid-step to turn it off, she doesn’t realize she’s done so in the middle of the crossroad. The next thing she knows, she’s jerked backwards, the rush of a passing vehicle and it’s horn startling her to attention after she’s pulled against their body. It’s a moist, uncomfortable embrace.. But she couldn’t deny they’d saved her from her own absentmindedness. Watching the car peel away, Clara’s eyes fall to where her phone had dropped on the cement. The car had passed over it, aside from the rain and general ground wetness it was unscathed.  Looking up at Nobunaga with an appearance similar to that of a soggy, unhappy cat, she quickly pushes away from them to grab the device on the ground and pocket it again.

Slitted pupils dilate as Morgan’s lips make contact with the (surprisingly) soft skin of the zerk’s bloodied palm, silvery mop tilting in a curious cant before the sides of Arthur’s lips twitch into a tooth-filled grin.  Digits taking the opportunity to wrap themselves around the other woman's chin, thumb stroking against her jawline.. Spreading scarlet against her pale countenance.