#extasiie

Tagging - in no particular order: @honorhearted (Benjamin Tallmadge - straight but an ally to the core, or at least I'd hope so... hopefully the Major is well aware of the bi disaster he is getting involved with), @apphrodite (pan), Lestat de Lioncourt (bisexual-biromantic - if I tagged every Lestat I interacted with I'd run out of space, but <3), @2kyears (pan). @eclipsecrowned (Gabrielle de Lioncourt - lesbian), @gentlejack (the butch lesbian of... ever).

— and @extasiie (bisexual-biromantic), and Audrey (bisexual-biromantic).

Plain icons under the cut.

HE  HAS  WAITED  FOR  THE  SUN  TO  RISE.  from the open window pours soft light onto the sleeping form beside him, to whom he has drawn himself close for the warmth through a long and anxious night. a hand rests lightly over this rising and falling chest, and his forehead has only just lifted from where it had been laid against a familiar shoulder, and though his stomach is tight with nervousness and he must bite the inside of his cheek to keep it from coming out, he tries to smile. today is going to be a happy day ---- don’t negativity ruin the whole thing.

What should he make of a remark like this? He has laid complacently and contentedly by her side, under the sheets, IDLY drawing his fingers through the loose mess of her hair in lazy bouts as he passes between sleep and awareness, and has thought vaguely of some amorous plot to awaken her, but before any such purpose could be met, her eyes opened. They have found him and she has delivered this unpleasant remark. Anatole is now only confused and, regrettably, somewhat OFFENDED.

“Did you take me for that sort and resign yourself to it, or did you hope for it?”

“I have been told something like this many times. The sentiment seems to be universal.” He grins, and the look he gives manages – quite skillfully – to be all at once innocent, natural, and irresponsibly BOLD.

The prince is hardly scandalized, but as he takes his company in from head to toe his eye is a bit more cautious than is its habit. The reserved demeanor (which is only to be exercised at public and formal events) has been accentuated by the necessity of English. He must think just that little bit harder about everything that is said to him and more importantly mind the TONES in which it is spoken. He will gladly INDULGE what sounds like a decidedly insinuating remark, but… Well, though his charm is unaltered, it’s perhaps a good thing that his ability to  w o o has never relied much upon his skill with words.

“What is it, do you think, that is so irresistible?”

“ oh, it is hard to say. ” and it is hard because the answer is nothing, and because there is no universal appeal to the manifestation of violent law. it’s not about the uniform at all. and though perhaps monty could have made an attempt to lead this man to believe otherwise, it seems that no falsity is required. it is not as though the intentions of his comment had been veiled.

to his credit, monty still does study the uniform, taking it in, picturing how it might look draped over a chair, over one of his chairs, that pressed fabric shed away and discarded to give access to the vain beauty beneath it. are similar thoughts running through the other’s mind? did it truly matter? monty loved and pursued anything --- anyone ---- of beauty quite without thought or hesitation, his was proudly shallow and all aesthetically pleasing things appealed to him. only the most basic social constraints ---- he had been raised to be polite and proper ---- stop him from simply stating his case. such would not be terribly charming anyway. instead, with a brave hand he reaches out, fingertips traversing the uniform’s lapel, and though he had no real objections to it ( besides, perhaps, it’s simple existence ), he reacts as though the fabric offended his skin.

She’s not spoken wrong. Her honesty, though, is just as disarming. What should he say to this? Comfort her and prove that he’ll become a worthy husband, or agree with her and reveal his own  MISGIVINGS about their marriage (about marriage and its confines entirely)? This is a girl he’d happily make his FOR THE NIGHT, but for all his life…? She could grow on him, he thinks, looking her over.

“It is… a STRANGE DANCE indeed. But history has proven its worth, has it not?”

They sit in the parlor of Prince Vassili, a place as foreign to her as the battlefields of Poland. It is a DOUR place, dark and brooding, and oil painted ancestors stare from above. She admits to herself that she is somewhat frightened of this place. Nothing Matriona could have said would prepare her for this- and Matriona had said exceedingly little. STILL- she sits high on the horsehair chair (oh! it stings) and lets her eyes study her betrothed. 

     “Perhaps,” the maiden acquiesces, forcing herself to meet the man’s blue eyes. The room is LARGE and her voice feels so small in it. “But we are not history. We are the present.” 

shipping headcanons // @jollyteatime & @extasiie

What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

to be honest, their biggest strength as a couple is that though they do have a lot of problems, they genuinely inspire positive change & development in one another. though it might be hard to see, both of them do get better —- anatole seems to somewhat learn what it is to actually love someone in a meaningful way ( i.e. beyond the enjoyment of pursuing them ), and andrei learns how to open up with his feelings and to trust someone else with his love and with the negative feelings that he before might have held in. as kay has said, they share a development arc that seems to belong more so in literature than in rp.

their biggest weakness honestly might be literally everything else about them —- their sex life has some very unhealthy undertones, especially in how they seem to lack the ability to talk to each other, and there is a lot of mistrust and, on andrei’s part, jealousy between them, and anatole certain struggles with staying faithful to andrei, and they deal with it in a way that usually ends up causing pain pain instead of genuinely resolving anything. some of it probably comes from the fact that their relationship started in a very hateful place, and some of it from the fact that they are not really on the same page when it comes to what they even are for quite some time.

“And will you be joining me, or is it quite necessary for me to beg?”

He steals a kiss from Andrei’s lips, smiling all the while. Even imposed upon by the awkwardness of a crutch, Anatole’s charming and effervescent demeanor has made a miraculous recovery over the past weeks, with him free from his bed. He even manages to make one forget, if he stands still, the absence of a leg which renders him something of hobbling mess. Still, it is in that labored motion that Anatole’s spirit has found the most rejuvenation, and to see the gleam in those too-long dulled eyes casts a veil of mirth over the whole business.

He leans now against the post of the bed, drawing Andrei to him by his shirtsleeves for another kiss. “No, no, that’s not how it is, now is it? It’s BEGGING for you, and ORDERS for me. Eh bien , will you induce me to command you, or will you dispense with all this foolishness” — he says, pulling meaningful at the fabric of Andrei’s shirt — “and be good to me?”

the change in anatole has not gone unnoticed ; careful perception, the concerned observation which he lends to his lover, have ensured andrei’s awareness of every bright mood and every smile. to see it lightens his heart ---- the weeks of uncertainty and loneliness now past and their union refreshed, the effect of anatole’s injury detracts andrei neither from the love he has confessed nor the affection that naturally comes of it.

each kiss reward by that small and bright smile which so rarely touches a weary face, andrei allows himself to be drawn in, allows hands still warmed from testing the water to rest on anatole’s chest in that familiar and comfortable way. “ i am always good to you, am i not, tolya? ”  ---- a blatant request for praise well earned, perhaps, and one that meets little shame, now that so much is shared between them. a kiss punctuates, and andrei removes his hands to unbutton his shirt, to reveal only some of his modest form, before redirecting.