#killdevil

stirring the pot starters // not accepting " i hope it was worth it. " ( @killdevil )

he reposed near the doorway, colossal structure filling the threshold, shoulders relaxed, albeit ears pricked forward. his aureate spheres scanned the fallen with casual satisfaction, no regrets bloomed in his chest [ ... ] albeit, mayhap there was a cheap primal contentment of order restored. they had been too loud, too drunk, their vocals crashing over the fragile peace he guarded so dearly. a least the night breathed easy again, and he could go inside without a care.

a small break taken between the menial tasks around the ranch. he never asked where @killdevil came from, never asked what brought him in these forgotten lands. set foot upon hallowed and rotten ground. like the wounded animals that would find their way to the lonely fieldsthe rancher guarded over; he simply took one look at the other. felt something coil deep within his being, something ravenous, forcing him to stumble upon knees when alone: clasp hands together and beg for forgiveness to whatever lurked within his homestead. prayers burned tongue, left lashes upon flesh, blinded him but it was worth it.

" who can say what shapes an appetite? ", prompt / always accepting.

a soft click of his tongue, head eventually tips towards boothill. look given is measured, time taken and not once wasted. ❝ the sun has yet to fully wake an' this is what we startin' the day with ? ❞ an answer offered finally in that soft drawl of his. once there would be warmth in his voice but when tongue was rotten how could words ever compete against the heat of a hearth ? ❝ loss. ❞ worn boots, faded in color, one is moved, tip of it used to scuffle it idly within the dirt. ❝ loss makes us all hungry. no better than coyote's lurkin' about. ❞ exhale through nose, the wither of bones is felt underneath shirt while the farm awakens as honey - like sunlight pours across the both of them. they all had to be fed ( it had to be fed ). ❝ you hungry ? ❞

     ❝     she’s grown a lot,     hasn’t she?     ❞     from what he can recall,     the last time atticus had seen the electric type pokémon she’d been but a miniscule four inches tall,     the very same timid creature that would perpetually hide ‘neath their trainer’s hat     /     a cute party trick even,     just remove the cap     &͟.     ta da!     joltik!     nothing has changed as far as her demeanor goes,     she’s still just as skittish,     just as anxious     &͟.     timid,     as made evident by how much distance she keeps ‘tween herself     &͟.    @killdevil but     …     she’s grown     &͟.     evolved,     he’ll consider that a win.     ❝     can’t put her on my head anymore,     unless i want to risk suffering some sort of neck injury.     ❞     //     ♡! 

@killdevil sent : " at least let me look at it. a wound like this won't do ya any good. " <3

sona prides herself in being painstakingly careful and elusive enough to remain hidden in plain sight, but if the glaring red gash — never mind its superficiality — dragging down her arm is saying anything, it's that she hasn't been careful enough. although she is hardly above gracefully accepting aid from others, she's more embarrassed than anything else for bearing the weight of her burdens upon someone else's shoulders. it'd been a misstep, an unfortunate miscalculation, thanks to the cacophony of endless distractions firing from every conceivable direction as the stampede of panicking crowds hurried to escape the soldiers' raids. even then, her magic is a well-guarded secret, one that she could not risk even a single person's eyes witnessing.

gingerly extending her arm out, sona tilts her head to look up at the man in studious silence. an apologetic smile twists her mouth and her shoulders slump with the sigh that remains ever-trapped within her lungs. her eyes quickly lower to the wound before snapping back up to him. it's not as bad as it looks, she wants to say, wilting visibly at the sight of the blood. she'd run into the sharp end of a splintering crate during the chaos, cutting herself on the jagged wood. of all the ways she could have gotten herself injured, it had to be something silly; but she supposes she should be grateful that it isn't any worse. sona grimaces, though, at the thought of splinters trapped amidst the tear in the flesh. gathering herself, she smiles again, mouthing a ' thank you, ' hoping it's enough. for the moment, at least.

patching wounds, always accepting.

     curse his stomach     &͟.     its inability to behave.     hardly is it ever a problem,     even when the hunger pains begin to contort his innards at full force,     the sounds few     &͟.     far in between     &͟.     hardly loud enough to be detected by anyone who wasn’t them——     it’s now that they’re at their worst,     louder than they’ve ever been before.     to taunt him?     perhaps.     his body has always been cruel to him,     consistently giving him away when he expected it least.     (     at least no ridicule has followed,     he finds comfort in the simplicities.     )     ❝     i know,     ❞      that logically,     it’s much more polite to accept what they’re offered than to decline it with the same fervor that they do but     …     any amount of vulnerability     &͟.     all the warning signals go off in his brain,     simultaneously     /      he’d prefer not to be indebted to someone for an eternity.

     but atticus is horrifically stubborn——     it’s something they came to realize from day one     /     relentless     &͟.     perhaps,     a bit like them in some ways.     (     it’s annoying.     )     ❝     i’m not hungry my stomach just     …     does that sometimes,     ❞     &͟.     yet they reach for the eating utensils anyway,     whilst the ears of his pokémon twitch,     where she awaits her own bite that will soon to come because he always shares,     without fail.     ❝     i’ll eat it anyway,     just so you can stop talking.     ❞     

          continued :    @killdevil.

PROMPT:     𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

     ❝     you scared me is all,     ❞     because, for but a split second,     he had mistaken that timbre for that of his father’s     /     a phrase he’d heard from him over     &͟.     over again during his youth,     drilled into every thought,     every ideal——     it’d startled him enough to rip his gaze away from the sleeping purrloin on their lap,     eyes wide like saucer plates,     expression unmistakably terrified     &͟.     much like they’d just seen a ghost,     like he’d said.     it’s not an instantaneous return to placid demeanor but gradually does the fear that resided within the depths of jade hues dissipates,     ‘til they’re as characteristically dull as ever     /     nothing to show for the previous emotion that had plagued them.     the grin that blooms ‘pon their features is practiced,     perfected,     wholly unnatural——     they know he’s not stupid,     that he’ll be able to look right through it,     like he has many a time since the beginnings of their interactions     &͟.     yet he tries,     in hopes that this time will somehow be different.     a dismissive wave of hand     &͟.     an index finger o’er lips,     an attempt at making sure he remains mindful of the tone of his voice     /     in case the feline that has settled on them to sleep rouses awake.

     ❝     you took a while today,     ❞     or,     well,     they’re not necessarily sure if that’s the truth,     having been preoccupied with fixating on the rise     &͟.     fall of his companion’s chest,     before he’d been stunned back into the reality of the waking world.     (     it could have been minutes or hours since he’d originally left,     they’ll never know.     )     ❝     but i’m glad you’re back,     nearly thought a pokémon finally got to you.     ❞     mere jest,     a way to lighten the mood of his previously uncharacteristic episode of dread     /     part of them is ashamed that it had been apparent enough for him to notice.     still,     all he can do is trudge onwards,     pretend like it’d never happened.     ❝     cannoli brought you a grasshopper while she was out.     not sure what you’d do with that but she insisted you have it.     ❞     

     ❝     thank you,     ❞     because he hadn't the chance,     back there,     to properly thank him for the aid that had been provided in the pacifying of the raging bouffalant——     it must have been afflicted by something consequential:     enough to exhibit such distressing neurological complications without much regard of its surroundings.     (     there must be something occurring,     somewhere unknown-——     a disturbance in nature,     to explain the erratic change in the creatures as of late but it's not a dilemma he is keen on deliberating,     not when there is much more grave measures to attend to.     )     ❝     i thought that talking to it would surely help but     [   . . .   ]     none of my words seemed to reach it.     sorry for making you step in like that, i was certain that it was going to work.     ❞     [  @killdevil   ]     ——     ♡ !    

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 . they're anxious. they're elated. the array of emotions that took hold of the snow queen continued to surprise them. at times scared them ( but he was trying to be more accepting of it, of allowing himself to feel ... be selfish in that way ). how many times did isolde look into the mirror to check if no hair was out of place ? how many times did silken clad hands glide across lithe form to make certain no crease or fold was to be found within expensive robes ? the winds of snow - winter rose and descended like waves crashing upon the shores, following the swooping turns of their queen's heart. the large glass windows bore frosted ice flowers while the sovereign tried to keep their excitement under control ( willing the rose flush upon cheeks to fade away like harsh winter did when summer kissed their hand ).

perhaps one day there would be tales written about this. of a jaded hunter and a frigid snow queen, meeting one another where seasons bend and swirl. but no tale would ever be able to capture the sheer volume of the love isolde held for atticus. nothing in the world would ever be able to understand the depth, the vulnerability, the trust and promise engraved into every kiss given, every hug shared, every smile offered and every promise woven between the silence. some things were better left unwritten or understood, magic lived in the spaces unseen ( love was magic, no, magical. fantastical ). the song of high heels upon marble echoed the name of their love, the sway of robes whispered memories shared &. cherished and the smile upon the snow queen's lips ? dipped in deep mauve and stars of lavender spoke loudest of them all: you are my home.

the snow now has always brought him @killdevil a sense of peace. perhaps it is because of who embodies it in his mind, or because of once raging blizzards that engulfed this land now sits in delicate fall. he isn't so vain enough as to believe he was the reason for this change, but there is some part where he wants to believe that, in some small form, atticus had a hand in this. it holds in the way he smiles at the sight of them upon walking up to their palace, seeing them stand outside in pristine glory with their servants lined behind them, it leaves him chuckling. " y'ain't need to roll out the red carpet for me, my love. " when he's before isolde, however, the smile is warm and sweet. all before he places a gentle kiss upon their forehead, rough hand cradling supple cheek. " i hope i haven't left ya waitin' too long, work's taken far too much time. but i'm here now, i'm sorry i left you alone. " / for isolde <3 !

and so isolde looks upon atticus as he draws near and eyes burn with unshed tears. he pushes it down. pushes down until the last remnants of snow beneath heels melt away. their entourage giggles, shuffling behind their queen as they lean into one another. but this fae queen doesn't pay them any mind. not when his hawk folds into him, lips rest upon forehead and he cannot hide it anymore. cheeks are aflame while frost flowers encase the grand gates, take control of the vines swirling around ancient structures and soon the softest of snow flakes descend from the sky. no, not the sky. merely above the pair, twirling around them like witnesses to a moment most sweet. isolde leans into atticus touch, lashes fluttering as they look up at him. they want to assure the hunter, convince him that it was no big deal, he had work to do and so did they. time spend apart was to be expected but all the queen can do is sigh, almost pathetically, swallowing down the lump within throat.

it was too long ! he'd been away for far too long ! ❝ ... i'll wait an eternity for you if need be. ❞ the queen tries to take back control, will the song of their voice not to shake before burying face into the crook of their love's neck, arms wrapping around body, almost wishing to disappear into him. their inner court cast their eyes below before slowly retreating back inside the winter palace. there were some things they knew their sovereign didn't wish to show anyone but his partner. and they knew what would occur soon was reserved for atticus' eyes and ears only. perhaps that's why the wind picked up, a howling song that forced the blood red petals scattered about the courtyard to swirl around the pair. ❝ but, atticus, please don't ever take that long to come back to me again. i -- i wouldn't be able to bear it. ❞ slowly does he pull back, cold wisteria shimmers softly, painted tiers shaping into a faint pout. i don't ever want to be alone again. ❝ promise ? promise or i'll freeze you where you stand. ❞ brows furrow, he's being petty, bratty even ( and he knows it ). ❝ promise ... ❞