#serpentpawn

@serpentpawn asked : [ wipe ] sender wipes a tear from receiver's face

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆  ɪᴛ  ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ  ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ  ᴛʜᴀᴛ  wanda  allowed  herself  to  show  emotion  in  front  of  other  people  but  sometimes  it  got  too  hard  to  contain  it  and  it  just  came  out.  she  had  been  telling  aileen  about  her  family  and  how  she  had  lost  them  all  before  she  had  moved  from  eastern  europe  to  the  town  she  now  called  her  home.  talking  about  them  was  difficult  most  of  the  time  but  the  anniversary  of  her  parents  passing  away  was  coming  up  and  she'd  been  thinking  about  it  a  lot.

        a  single  tear  rolled  down  her  tanned  features  as  she  spoke  about  her  twin  brother,  pietro,  but  her  words  faltered  at  the  feeling  of  the  other  woman's  touch  and  wanda  froze.  her  light  green  eyes  were  blown  wide  and  she  swallowed  hard,  blinking  several  times  as  her  gaze  locked  with  aileen's.  ❝  i...  umm...  you  don't  have  to...  i  mean...  ❞  she  didn't  really  know  what  to  say,  her  words  coming  out  broken  and  thick  with  emotion.  she  didn't  mind  the  touch  but  it  was  the  last  thing  she  was  expecting  from  the  scot.

@serpentpawn said: “I try to be a better person…”

"For whom?"

It's a rhetorical question he lets slip before raising the glass to his lip to take a swig of his drink. He sets it down to adjust the collar of his shirt, finding it a smidge too tight around his neck. Helpful as this human disguise of his was, he could never adapt to the feeling of such fitted cloth around his torso - much less his throat.

"The definition of what is good and evil, what is right and what is wrong, is as consistent as sand in a desert. To think otherwise is a fool's performance for the masses, or an egotist's form of pedestal." He turns slightly, dark browns catching the light and flickering with a hue of scarlet so bright, so vibrant - it burns like fire in his cool gaze.

"Don't judge yourself by the standards or expectations of others. You will never satisfy them, and you'll only end up miserable trying. Just enjoy life, and don't hurt others in the process. Just be someone you can live with. "

☎️ 𝙶𝙷𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙱𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂, 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙳𝙾 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃? || "I like your glasses." || @serpentpawn

AN INTERESTING STATEMENT. Was it a compliment? Or merely a verbalised observation? It certainly wasn't one he heard often. He knew that some wore theirs as some sort of fashion accessory - but not him. He was a practical man, and as far as he was concerned, he needed his in order to see properly. No other reason applied.

❝ Thank you. ❞

STILL, HE VIEWED IT AS A POSITIVE GESTURE. Although he wasn't entirely sure of what else to say - and the silence between them soon started to linger.

@serpentpawn || unprompted or prompted || accepting.

“Well, you look like you’ve seen better days.”

The hunter covered in splatterings of blood leaning against the wall. Arm around her midsection under her jacket but over her shirt. Fingers dig into her side. Luckily it was just bruising and the blood was not completely her own.

❝ Yeah you could say that. But I've had worse. Much worse before. I'll be fine! ❞

Art thinks that he's dreaming. That would be the only explanation for everything that is happening right now. Was this one of the escape hatches that Pete had spoken about? Then again it wasn't like this was a familiar setting. He wasn't home in Baton Rouge. Oh God... he wished he was at home in Baton Rouge. The shotgun house crowded with generations worth of memories and people. He wanted to smell his grandmother's cooking and listen to his grandfather snore by the crackling old radio.

Medina really wanted to believe the witch, yet something about it still unsettled her.

She had never been one for pets, cats being the sole exception, perhaps, but even then, she had never sought their company. She remembered the wild dogs that once roamed the streets at night, half-starved, feral things that learned early how to survive without any care.

Serpents, however, were a completely different matter.

They were not uncommon in the land she had once called home. Serpents were woven into culture, into Zoroastrian symbolism and desert folklore, tales of half-man, half-serpent creatures that roamed and ruled at night. They were often associated with danger, patience, and power.

And yet, Medina had never felt the need to approach one.

Those animals had been wild, of course. This one was not, she knew that much. Still, there was something undeniably unsettling about the phyton before her. Beautiful, yes… but unsettling all the same.

“Ironic…” She finally hummed. “I’ve always found them frightening, and yet elegant. I suppose, centuries later, I still share that sentiment.” Her gaze lifted then, thoughtful.

it   was   pretty   naive   to   think   he'd   actually   be   able   to   slip   out   of   his   own   party   undetected   ;   not   that   it   was   really   his   more   than   it   was   the   major's,   and   his   first   opportunity   to   introduce   the   public   to   billy   stebbins,   champion   of   the   long   walk,   as   his   son.   that   meant   an   exhaustive   amount   of   networking   with   a   seemingly   never   ending   list   of   equally   insufferable,   pretentious,   and   powerful   people,   constantly   being   hampered   with   insensitive,   pervasive   requests   to   recount   his   experience,   and   having   to   do   it   all   with   a   smile   on   his   face.

❝    yeah   .   .   .   yeah,   'm   .   .   .   great.   ❞    this   is   a   bold   faced   lie,   and   he   knows   this   woman   likely   can   see   right   through   it.   he'll   bob   his   head,   quickly   forcing   the   same,   stiff   smile   back   to   his   face   as   he   pushes   his   hands   to   his   pockets.   he   had   to   be.   the   winner   of   the   long   walk   was   supposed   to   be   the   goddamn   happiest   guy   in   the   country   ;   any   moping   on   his   behalf   may   as   well   be   considered   dissent.   he   pulls   a   hand   from   his   pocket,   waving   it   dismissively.