#lanidaes

there are a GREAT MANY things she could say to this. irene considers her options for a moment. she could not say anything at all and merely slip past towards the door - - - but that would scarcely do, after all this. irene norton blinks at the man before her and ignores the cold feeling that has slid down her spine at the sight of SHERLOCK HOLMES ; suppose she did not recognize him! perhaps she could not, as they had only truly met in disguise, and had followed only his shadow and silhouette when making sure he was who she thought he was.

✱  welcome  to  my  kitchen:  toss  me  a  number

𝟏𝟓 .  what  is  your  favorite  dynamic  trope  to  write ?  not  sure  if  this  really  counts  as   a  trope  but  i  love  writing  intellectual  equals  that  truly   test  one  another  mentally  .  mind  games  ,  wit  ,  and  just  clever  conversation  are  my  bread  and  butter  which  shouldn't  be  surprising  considering  dialogue  is  one  of  my  favorite  things  to  write nbjbtyn  this  also  goes  hand  in  hand  with  another  trope  i  love  which  is  either  rivals  to  lovers  and  or  just  straight  up  enemies  to  somewhat  tolerable  companions  who  might  kiss   sometimes  or  might  bite  you  never  know  !!

warm  indeed,      will  thinks  with  the  simultaneity  of  self-consciousness  and  delight,       his  cheeks  flushing  with  the  compliment  as  readily  as  it  would  ignore  the  superfluous  attentions  of  others,       for  how  easily  they  fell  from  lips  that  regarded  his  beauty  like  some  kind  of  extraordinary  circumstance  and  scorned  him  in  all  else.       contradictory  these  past  months  have  seemed  to  those  that  preceded  them:       tessa  at  his  side,       a  novelty  like  a  dream    ——    as  though  he’d  wished  upon  a  star  and  then  not  only  received  what  he  most  blessedly  desired,       but  found  himself  filled  with  the  same  sensation  of  burning  inside  and  out  as  if  he’d  swallowed  the  thing  entirely.       the  other  gentlemen  crossing  the  streets  of  london  with  the  young  ladies  they  courted  could  not  have  been  half  so  fortunate,       will  thinks  definitively,       as  he  remarks  upon  the  softness  of  her  lashes  against  rose-tinged  cheeks,       grey  eyes  with  depths  to  contrast  the  sky  above,       bright  with  nascent  snowfall.  

⭒ ✰   @lanidaes​​​​​​    (  tessa  )    sighed  with  something  like  contentment,    ‘    it’s  so  cold,    but  you’re  so  warm. 

he  is  thankful  they  chose  an  hour  not  quite  dusk  to  embark  on  a  whim,       the  softness  of  flakes  falling  more  resonant  somehow  than  their  tentative  heartbeats.       he  could  have  flattered  her  on  the  usual  assortment  of  delicacies  available  to  suitors:       what  fine  handkerchiefs  you  have  tucked  in  your  coat,       is  that  muff  the  latest  in  season  ?        how  charmingly  new-yorkish  your  hair  seems  beneath  that  hat.       but  flatteries  fail  him  where  silence  and  a  cautious  yet  at  once  ebullient  smile  do  will  herondale  credit.       ❛❛    next  year  we  shall  spend  christmas  in  wales.       how  about  it  ?       i  gather  you’d  find  the  sheep  superior  strolling  companions,       what  with  their  fur  to  warm  them.    ❜❜        his  eyes  sparkle  with  his  words,       a  specific  sort  of  mirth  within  that  was  always  reserved  for  theresa  gray.         you.        you  make  me  laugh,         he’d  said  to  her  once.         he  ought  to  be  returning  the  gesture  evermore.        ❛❛      i  mean  wool.       not  fur.     how  you  confuddle  my  wits,       tess.    ❜❜

the  pair  of  them  stop  beneath  one  of  the  lamp  posts  at  the  corner  of  upper  thames  street,       the  fronts  of  shops  and  apartments  showing  a  light  dusting  of  white  like  an  insufficiently  frosted  pastry,       and  he  instead  admires  wonderingly  what  each  gentle  fractal  of  ice  is  like  against  the  tendrils  of  her  hair  escaping  their  pins.       the  red  of  her  dress  cannot  rival  that  his  cheeks  must  appear,       the  soft  colors  that  compliment  her  so  well  against  a  dreary  backdrop  of  a  drearier  city,        as  will  takes  in  the  sights  around  them  momentously,         an  excuse  not  to  stare  too  profoundly  at  tessa,       lest  he  frighten  or  worse,       embarrass  her  away  before  next  he  speaks.       he  can’t  help  himself  when  his  mind  is  made  up  and  he  blurts  rather  gracelessly,       ❛❛     kissing  is  an  excellent  way  to  warm  up,       you  know.       as  i  do,       from  experience.       having  kissed  you  before  and  all.     ...      have  i  said  too  much  ?    ❜❜

happiness was a subtle thing:    not the grand affair it was said to be and written of by poets,     nor the devastation will always expected to follow its pronouncement.     will had considered in private moments of wandering nights what might happen,    the moment he would tell tessa gray that he loved her.     (  that it was a catastrophe,     the way he loved:       his a touch that assured death and a truth that would sever them from any chance at hope.  )     he’d never pictured,     in all the scenarios of doomed and tragic love,     of rejection and of those dying before his eyes in myriads of terrible ways,     that it would be like this.     love could be this intimacy,     a quiet contentment that snuck upon you and took hold of your heart and not even the sigh loosed at its realization could be considered dramatic,     or even entirely terrifying.

tessa sits at her vanity,     combing softly-burnished tresses that glimmer near golden in the candlelight.     will scoffs that she could ever call her hair dull or herself anything but breathtaking.     he leans against the left post of their four corner bed,     enjoying a moment where she does not look to him with wide grey eyes,     assessing his every movement with shrewd calculation and an opinion close to tongue as she had when she first arrived to them all.       he wonders how he could forget pain like a distant point shrinking behind them,     and cross into a plane where his lovely new wife as a possibility,       that the rune against his collarbone that she’d drawn there a night or a few ago could exist at all. 

@lanidaes  (  tessa gray )  ⋆ ›   ‘  you’ve always seen me.   and i think that’s all that anyone wants.    seeing someone.    really seeing someone.    that’s love.

her voice startles him from the reverie,     where he’d been a willing captive to the marvel that she is.     how long had she been staring at him in the mirror,     waiting for their eyes to meet  ?     for him to admit he’d strolled in from the bath-chamber and been struck at the enormity of what his life was now,     that happiness could follow grief that still twisted their hearts and cause laughter to flutter in his throat once again,     reviving the mischief glittering in will’s eyes.  

❛❛    from the moment i saw you,     amid the shock of the near mortal blow you thought to deal me,     i was yours.    ❜❜      the embellishment of his tone cloaks the truth behind the jest,     as he uncrosses his arms and takes a step and then two forward,     to rest his forearms against the back of her chair,     his chin against the top of her head.     ❛❛    i used to think no one could ever see the person i had been behind the person i was.     you have shown me differently,       tess,     and whatever shape or face you wear,     i have never seen another in your place.     ...     i wished to make you feel as you had me,     with all your questions and your provocative curiosity that first day.     you were not content to deem me a lost cause,     you thought i was interesting enough to argue with.     that alone was a gift,     and it was enough to love you recklessly as i do.    ❜❜  

his eyes were twin drifters of blue that wandered from the sky of her stare,     that would always run away until he remembered each time that he now had a home,     and the now reminder was all it took them to land on tessa’s in the glass.     will drinks in the sight of them standing together,     now husband and wife,     for the blessing it is.     from thin-seeming air he conjures a parchment-wrapped package,     tied with simple ribbon.     ❛❛     i shall spend all our lives thanking you.     perhaps this,     to start.     no,     it is not a box of chocolates,     and yes,     my dearest regret is to not have married someone i could give chocolates to.    ❜❜