LOCATION: A Bar in Paris

TAG: @vicente-deleon , @malachileclair

Lenore is five shots in. “I’m not drunk,” she’ll say if someone were to ask, “I’m having fun.” And it’s true. It takes much more to get her properly drunk—as of right now, she’s tipsy enough to be comfortably dizzy, tipsy enough to be smiling. Her eyes are brighter. It’s from the alcohol. All the same, this is a welcome distraction.

She has one arm wrapped around Malachi’s waist, and one hand laced through Vicente’s. “I’d like another drink,” She says, looking from her left to her right, pausing to touch Malachi’s shoulder with the side of her head. 

“We should each have another drink, no?” Looking to Vicente, she lifts her foot slyly and taps him on the ass, “You’re two shots behind, Vicente. Tienes que beber.” 

Eyebrows lifting at Vicente, Lenore levels him with a look that says, drink. Half-fun, half-challenge. “Or are you a lightweight, hm?”

There are some things that are unbearable. Things that, when they rip into a person, leaves them not the same—like their insides were taken apart and put together the wrong way. Half-awake. Waiting for something. She feels it all the time, sometimes doesn’t even know it’s there until her lungs tighten in response to something. A smell. The sound of laughter.

The loss of a loved one can twist someone so ugly, so far gone, that too becomes a death. Not to Lenny—Paris only made her afraid, only made her realize that the dark after candle is blown out, after stars disappear, is something she never wants to face. She still hates what that’s turned her into. At the same time, she wonders how ignorance could be bliss, how she’s spent twenty-six years in the Menagerie, a trapped bird, and has still come out singing.

Lenore isn’t the only one who lost something after Paris.

When she had first met Malachi Leclair, there had been a boy with him; now, standing in the ballroom, eyes scanning both familiar and unfamiliar faces until she finds him, the boy is gone. And what of the man left behind? She keeps trying to prod, curious as she is, and Malachi seems to be a master at evading.

SEND ME A ☄FOR A LIGHTHEARTED HEADCANON ABOUT OUR MUSES.

Since we’ve discussed Malachi being a very heavy sleeper, and once they get to That Point, they sleep like this which basically means Malachi for a good majority of the night is total deadweight on Lenny. Juxtapose that with Lenore who probably can’t sleep through like, an hour and a half tops without waking up for a few minutes? Anyways now that we’ve got all that written, for the cute shit:

Imagine Lenny being up, not really because of nightmares but because she tends to sleep restlessly these days regardless of what she dreams about, I have this feeling that some nights she’ll just trace his back and whisper to him while he’s sleeping. She tells him stories her father told her, or stories about the Cryptids who were in the Menagerie before him, all said very softly. I have a feeling it eventually helps her get back to sleep, so even cuter with her like gradually drifting off while Malachi is like 100% knocked out and totally asleep. 

Since I had a hard time choosing, this is also another one: when Mal and Lenny first started sleeping together, their cuddling always took a couple of tries before they could get comfortable enough to sleep, but Mal’s hair would always get in Lenny’s mouth/tickle her face and it was just. Not a fun time. And I think she liked being the little spoon but also it’s in her nature to Hold people so she wanted to be able to hold him too? So eventually their configurations gave them the sleeping position of the couple in the photo I linked above. And I’m crying.

SEND ME A ☁ FOR AN ANGSTY HEADCANON ABOUT OUR MUSES.

Malachi was sent to check on Lenore while she was still recovering from Paris. That’s the first time they saw each other after they first met in Paris; Malachi, still reeling from the loss of his son, believing that he’ll be able to lay low and leave the Menagerie once things calm down, and Lenore, broken and blaming herself for her father’s “death”. She almost couldn’t believe it when she saw him. Even less, when she found out he had showed up to the Menagerie alone. 

For days, when Lenny stayed in Emme’s room, it had been Malachi who would come by to check on her, index fingers to wrists, checking pulses and temperatures. She had a weak heartbeat for the first three days; a fever for a week; sometimes, when Mal would come in, she’d think she was dreaming for a second, caught in that disorienting fever-haze. Lenore didn’t need to ask Malachi where his son was. One look at his face, and she knew. 

EMMELINE LEUNG.

I would physically hurt you. ✧ I would attack you unprovoked. ✧ I would manipulate you. ✧ I dislike you. ✧ You annoy me. ✧ You scare me. ✧ I never want to see you again. ✧ You intimidate me. ✧ I hope I intimidate you. ✧ I wish we’d never met. ✧ I pity you. ✧ You disgust me. ✧ I hate you. ✧ I’m indifferent toward you. ✧ I’d like to get to know you better. ✧   I’d like to spend more time with you. ✧ I’d like to be friends with you. ✧  I’m unsure what to think of you. ✧ I’m unsure how I feel about you. ✧ You are my friend. ✧ You are my best friend. ✧ You are my mentor. ✧ I look up to you. ✧ I respect you. ✧ You are my hero. ✧ You inspire me. ✧ You are my enemy. ✧ You make me happy. ✧ I want to protect you. ✧ I would fight by your side. ✧ I consider you an equal. ✧ I think you are beneath me. ✧ I think you are above me. ✧ I would lie for you. ✧ I would lie to you. ✧ I find you attractive. ✧ I would sleep with you. ✧ I would sleep by your side. ✧ I would hug you. ✧ I would kiss you. ✧ You are family to me. ✧ I would die for you. ✧ I would kill for you. ✧ I would trust you with my life. ✧ I would trust you with my most precious belonging. ✧ I would trust you with a secret. ✧ I would trust you with my biggest / darkest secret. ✧  I love you (platonically). ✧ I love you (romantically).

MALACHI LECLAIR.

The train’s started rocking.

Well, isn’t that just fucking fantastic.

They’re nothing if not opportunistic, if not all self-preservation, and yes, in their point of view, freedom would be much better than playing the game of Dancing Monkey to the masses. Raafe finds it almost laughable that these people think shifting a couple of train cars back and forth is a show of force. They know show of force. 

Rafa sees no point in joining the Freedom Fighters. If it risks their skin—and it will—then they won’t do it. 

Instead, they find where the nearest full bar is, and decide to hunker down. Call it selfish of them; it is, they know it, of course. And if this is to be their night, and they know they’re not allowed to physically harm anyone on this train out of sheer boredom, then they’ll find some fun somewhere else. 

They whistle a merry tune (out of place with the riot going on outside, the tension so thick they can nearly taste it), stopping only when they hear the sound of a car door opening and sliding closed. Raafe’s head tilts. 

RUSHED TEXT.@malachileclair