#queenwolf

—   𝐌.   |  IT IS STRANGE TO ALLOW SOMEONE INTO YOUR HOME, after all these years of loneness.   she is unused to the presence of another body that clutters up her corners, the act of, in some ways, creating a home for someone else. she has offered a safety, and that safety has, in some ways, been accepted. the woman finds herself at an impasse, unwanted and unsure. the other woman sits at her table, her table, hands full of a meal just made: a turkey's leg, stolen and smothered, collard greens in stew, golden honeyed cornbread. You're a hearty one to feed, Eve had said a week before. You might eat me out of my season's harvest. today, the affection in her voice is distilled between her syllables, the words in her mouth hard and jagged as rocks. she sits opposite of her visitor with her own glass of ( also stolen, ) whiskey; it is raised to her mouth and she drinks quick, the liquid burning against her throat. ❝ haven't told me why you're back here. i don't do kindly with secrets, not here. ❞ a loose threat against her tongue. another sip of bitter drink. she watches the woman eat her food, at her table. a creeping of dread courses up her shoulders and spine.

☾  @queenwolf​  //    the  moon  looks  dim  in  the  sky  tonight.    her  mother  walks  these  woods  and  shines  far  brighter,    glimpsed  between  the  treeline  as  some  kind  of  shooting  star  –  out  of  reach,    but  promising  nonetheless.    it  should  be  warmer  now,    winter  melting  slowly  but  surely  into  spring,    and  yet  darkness  snuffs  out  that  changing  season  threateningly.    how  could  heat  thrive  in  such  conditions?

—   <3.    |             ❝   𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫, ❞       the syllables wrapped against her teeth in a not - yet spoken plea,    a steady smile atop her cheeks.      she blames herself,   really,    for this issue:     she had promised a friend that she would pet - sit during her vacation,   and so far it had not gone as panned.     Bette was not very pleased when I told her that Milo had spent a night in Paradisary.    So...    when they both step inside from the chill of night,   after the door had shut and the warmth of indoors greeted them properly,    diana waved a hand towards the staircase   ---   a white cat sits himself gentle against the third stair,   watches them both with a languid eye.        ❝   this is Milo.    [  to the cat,  ]  Milo,   be kind to our guest.   ❞      as she speaks to him,    her voice adopts a stern tone,   as if she were warning a child to behave.    offhandedly:      ❝   he knows that i am not happy with him.   he is ignoring me,  you see.   ❞ 

                                         ˚  ₊  ♡  ‘ @queenwolf​ .

“ too bad. you’re part of a family.” hm