#heumbra

vanis gonna draw a dick on rikus forehead Dont Try Me Nine

From Friðrós: I do not usually have trouble sleeping. I always thought this was because I keep myself very busy most of the time. But over the past few weeks as I’ve been putting the details on the Book Forest, I’ve sometimes slept fitfully. And last night, I didn’t sleep at all. I tried everything. I lay in bed imagining horses, counting sheep; I made cocoa; I even tried some of those deep…

once upon a time, dawn - tread had prided himself on his appearance, back when he’d prided himself on everything. his own hair had been something to marvel at, platinum like starshine, shiny and rare amongst island folk with rich dark hair colours. he’d been handsome, and charming, intelligent and strong, philosophical and charismatic, and enviable above all things. it had gotten to his head despite riku’s abysmal self - esteem, ego and greed a thin veil for the crumbling psyche under pressure to remain mr. perfect. maybe he shouldn’t have been so invested in something he’d so easily sacrifice for power ? how long had he wandered blindfolded through a world that never was ? how long had he walked in the shoes of the man who’d possessed a younger, more naive riku ? carting the appearance of a monstrosity made real ? he hated looking in the mirror, hated being stared at, hated being made to feel vulnerable and under scrutiny.

maybe he shouldn’t have prided himself on something that would invite the darkness so readily.

vanitas made riku feel all of those things, personally attacked, his weaknesses exploited, his flaws and soul laid bare for dark - chosen to flay alive if given the opportunity. so why hadn’t he ? sure, he had the chance. sly words on molten tongue had mentioned riku’s slipping grip on darkness, and made mockery of his wants, but that was to merely entice him to power, wasn’t it ? he hadn’t said anything so abysmal about knight’s flaws yet, not unless riku struck similar nerve when mentioning light, when he made conscious effort to dig around in wounds vanitas claimed he couldn’t feel the pain of. ah, what a liar.

boy - dawn had never fathomed that darkness incarnate could tire at all. some part of him hoped it meant that some light dwelled within vanitas, or at least some “ other ”, something that wasn’t all consuming pool of ichor, drenching vanitas with murky wickedness. maybe under all that shrouded sarcasm, and bitterness, and hate - fueled vitriol there was something that wouldn’t drain whatever soul void - chosen had left. because, he had to have one, right ? it was different to a heart, something composed of life, and the feelings their used to wield their magics. it was thought, choice, the very knowledge that one existed. philosophy had been one of his first loves, when he’d been innocent and happy chained to island home. maybe ignorance was bliss, if riku’s thirteen year old self could contemplate these topics without hurting, without these subjects affecting the lives of those he considered allies, friends, and even his enemies.

is vanitas still my enemy   ?

knight knew better than to hope for something vanitas didn’t believe he could be, forcing upon him an expectation even riku didn’t believe he could recover from. but, it was difficult to believe he was that shadowy enigma that boiled riku’s blood, that had wreaked havoc and unforgivable chaos all those years ago when he was ... like this. when, if dawn - tread wished to acknowledge he was paying attention, he could see the fractals of molten gold between black lashes, when seafoam eyes followed freckled skin down a strong nose, to lips that spilled growling words which should have sent chills down his spine instead of stirred the swarm of butterflies in his stomach. the forest of twilight town was quiet, peaceful, and as it filtered through the trees and flecked across vanitas’ hair riku noted drowsily that it wasn’t true black. the kind of inky darkness that composed his nightmares, once upon a time anyway. master slumped against the bark, scoffing softly, but without any real bite.

                                                     @heumbra   :   unscripted.

i hate this.

vanitas felt pain all the time. some buried part of him resonated with that, the part of riku that had eventually given into the darkness recognised him as kindred. the surface, the part of him swathed in light had glanced towards vanitas more than once in sympathy, but that hadn’t been the expression void - chosen caught. riku’s had been one of curious wonder, with brow furrowed and eyes alight with cosmos green near ... transfixed on the way vanitas summoned floods, unversed dripping off him like some kind of painting. if that was the case, then he was some sick form of artistry, composed from that to highlight the morbid and obscene. riku had always been too interested in death, and darkness, ready to explore that which was regarded as dangerous, and threatening. those fascinations had been places first ; shark - infested waters, shipwrecks, foreign cities. now this.

i hate the way you make me feel.

starlit lash rose to catch the bright molten hue of vanitas’ eyes, so close riku could see the flecks in his irises. bathump, bathump. there was no eloquence in his word, no charm in anything self proclaimed boy - demon did, and still the poisoned parts of him   (   the dead, the dying   )   clings to the misery other incited. his obsession with understanding that which must not be touched, dared twist boyhood ambition and vulnerability and masked it as affection. he felt no attraction to vanitas   (   lie   )   or any honey - tongued promise of power   (   lie again   )   but still his body betrayed him, words lodged in his throat. riku looked star struck for far too long, and maybe it had been that which made him angry. bathump, bathump. a hand came up to pry other’s hand of master’s cheek, instead riku’s grip tightened, seafoam eyes narrowing at snarled threat.

like my heart’s racing.

expressionism contorted to that of irritated confusion, though not for very long. riku could feel the unfamilar hazy sensation of a flood nearby, the unversed had become curiously docile around him as of late. he disregarded how they prowled ‘round him like overgrown cats. their master had never looked like he despised riku more than now, recent encounters layered with a tension beyond that of senseless violence. he couldn’t quite understand, but what he did know was that vanitas coaxed something volatile and imposing out of him. whether by pride or sheer idiocy riku closed the space between them to touch foreheads with the intent to push him away, out of his space. after all, what had he been doing wrong ? void - chosen would commence attack based on what ? having eyeballs ? riku’s silken timbre turned gravely with a reverberated, underlying threat. his pulse was thundering.

like it once did for him.