#herweloved

@herweloved​ asked: “Never let your face tell a secret your lips should not.”

               𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑   𝑡𝘩𝑎𝑡   𝑡'𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒   𝑠𝑜   𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦  ,        but   since   he   stands   before   her  ,     heart   on   sleeve  ,     he   finds   it’s   never   been   so   difficult   to   pry   feeling   from    his   expression .      so   typically   is   he   capable   of   spinning   lies  ,    weaving   tales   that    might   save   him   from   a   dire   situation   and   it’s   always   a   hard   thing   to   spot .      𝑏𝑢𝑡   𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛   𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠   𝘩𝑖𝑚   𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦   𝑚𝑢𝑐𝘩   𝑎𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 .      there’s   a   tilt   to   his   head  ,      the   raise   of   a   brow  ,     and   cheek   in   his   smile .         ❝      i   am   familiar   with   the   concept .      ❞        he   answers  ,     and   leans   comfortably   on   one   hand   across   the   low   stone   wall   towards   her .

       perhaps .     but   power   is   evil  ,     and   power   corrupts .     magic   is   power   beyond   the   imagination   of   the   common  man  ,    it’s   dangerous  ,    adaptable  ,     supernatural .     scáthach   knows   this  ,     despite   her   touch   upon   the   world   of   magic   herself  ,     and   though   she   believes   it   as   a   gift   from   god  ,     she   knows   she   holds   the   potential   to   breed   chaos .     that   potential  ,     she   knows   is   why   she   was   exiled  ,     and   she   understands   it .     it   would   only   bring   trouble  ,     as   she   was   told .    IF   THE   OTHER   CLANS   KNEW  ,     THEIR   ENTIRE   VILLAGE   WOULD   BE   BURNT   TO   THE   GROUND  ,    RAZED  ,     IGNITED   &’   WIPED   FROM   EXISTENCE .

   “ Marian “     Says  he,  coming  up  beside  her  from  the  shadows  of  the  corridor     “ Might I ACCOMPANY you into the banquet hall? It would be a PLEASURE “     He  then  offers  her  his  arm  ( sheathed  in  black  leather )  for  her  to  take,  for  he  was  a  GENTLEMAN,  unlike  OTHER MEN  he  was  aware  of.  

richard silken prompts ( accepting | mutuals only )

                                                 ‘OF COURSE NOT,’ she bites, the words, as they rake across the tip of her tongue, tasting bitter. But, like all bitter things, she spits them out and has nothing more to do with them ( other than retain the memory, in order to remember not to partake of such things again the future ). Her upper lip curls into a snarl as she handles her weapon roughly, with deft but aggressive motions. 

     ‘We stare at it, and we make sure we will remember it, so that we never have to look at it again,’ she begins, avoiding the other woman’s gaze, ‘and then we LOOK AWAY.’ 

     How many horrible things had she seen over the years? How many horrible things had she witnessed and swore to never witness again? And how many of those horrible things had come back to haunt her ( for her system is imperfect )?