#stormtsar

          zoya nazyalensky, lovely as a diamond and twice as cold, dangerous as the edge of a freshly sharpened blade and fierce as the storms she commands at her fingertips.  there’s not an ounce of softness to be found in her, not until there suddenly is, at perhaps the most unexpected moments.  for his part, illya has ridden the tempests of her moods happily for years, adapting gladly to each show of her immense strength, eagerly learning the topography of her every sharp edge.  she’s a sword of grisha steel, crafted beautifully with caring hands, capable of such savagery that one could read the danger simply by a glance.

          and she is as fiercely loyal as she is fierce in battle, a loyalty he knows he’s earned in her yet he still can barely fathom that she’s given it to him.

          ❛   I know,   ❜   he assures her, shifting just slightly to take her small hand in his, though the motion sends a merciless stab of pain through his abdomen.  he manages not to wince, but the grit of his teeth flexes his jaw and a light sheen of sweat stands out on his brow.  his thumb brushes comfortingly against her palm and he presses his other hand to the wound in his side.   ❛   it wasn’t your fault.  it was purposeful, really.  I fancied having another scar.  makes me look brave, don’t you think?   ❜   he’s bad at jokes and he doubts she’ll appreciate such levity in the face of something that  ( if they were honest )  nearly killed him.

          his voice lowers, then, and he gazes at her carefully, perhaps even imploringly, pressing a brief kiss to her knuckles before he speaks again.   ❛   forgive me, zoya.  I would crawl, too.  I did.   ❜

𝐎𝐇   ,               𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒         𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄         𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓         𝐅𝐎𝐑         𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆   ,          were   they   not   ?              secret   stories   itching   to   be   shared   ,            endings   woven   in   the   stars           by   what   precedes   even   the   gods   ,          even   the   titans   .         ❛    THE   FATES   DECIDE   MUCH   ,    ❜        persephone   begins   ,           almost   ,            in   the   right   light   ,             bitterly   .              whoever   thought   fighting   destiny   was   a                matter   of   simplicity           was   surely         nothing   more   than   fool   .       nevertheless   ,                  dread   queen   offers   smile   ,              flash   of   her   teeth   ,              kind   and   knowing   .        ❛    but   i   do   not   believe   that   is   for   them   to   choose   .          i   ask   you   ,            instead      —      WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE   ?    ❜

❝   i admire your form   ,   miss  nazyalensky.   ❞   voice is quiet as mako approaches from the shadows   ,   a nervous air about her as she offers the fierce woman the smallest of smiles. the war has forced everyone to ban together in an effort to stop the impending threat   ,   leaving no time for gender appointed titles. everyone had to fight   &   it was those women who did so without fear or hesitation that gained the survivor’s respect. as the kwoon empties   ,   she finds her confidence   ------   head raised high as she takes a few more steps into the fighting circle   ,   calm almond gaze meeting the fiercest pair of eyes she’s ever seen   ------   like a never ending storm   ,   swirling with no prediction of when it would strike.   ❝   i understand you must be busy   ,   but i only wanted to tell you.   ❞   the faintest stutter is evident   ,   hand reaching up to tuck a lock of raven hair behind her ear.   ❝   very few fight like you do.   ❞

hazel eyes warm      ,      a tender ocean breeze flying upwards in the summer air     ,     and yet there is a mourning filling the wind as it carries its own towards the storm’s witch .  as tender as anything     ,      the memory of loss and disappointment a bitter taste on his tongue for the rest of his life instilled by other people that were not her     ,     never her .     she is not at fault     ,     and yet he can’t help but let some of his carefully drowned grief taint the saccharine look with which he regards her .    always so sweet      /       always so bittersweet before he looks away!  for their will be another one to have her that is not him .   not a king and not a monster     ,     but someone worthy of everything she encompasses and could give to another     ,     someone who could live through the tides and thunderstorms she orchestrates without having to ensure he could still turn around in the middle of them and let himself be caught when free-falling from the cloud-filled sky to the drenched earth .   someone less ruined     ,     someones less demanding .    it would always be this way and golden-crowned bird knows it very well      ,     no feather he’d don to be ignored by either of them for too long .   this is hurting both of us    ,     can’t you see it?   walking around each other in deliberate steps to forego what we both can see.    he swallows it though      ,       sea water filling his lungs up to the brim and choking him on his wants and desires     ,     and he doesn’t cough but he doesn’t breathe easy either .   when he looks at her      ,      he can’t look away .    when he looks at her     ,     he can’t unsee the undeniable .

“and yet we both know that is not entirely true .”   rasp still so unaccustomed to his own ears but sincere in its delivery either way    ,     filled with warm sentiment and frozen nostalgia    ,   ambivalent in the way it keeps its meaning so clear and yet unattended by its messenger .   there is no need to add to what is so instilled between them     :     they know of their love for each other and yet it does not change a thing .    it only makes everything so much harder to bear and the possible look less like an actual road to walk the longer they keep it to grow and fester between them .   he thinks of the time he left her without a goodbye or explanation and how she still held him close to her when he came back a more broken thing than before .   he thinks about falling and it ending above the ground more than one time .   (   she has always been there to catch him  .   )   her hand in his such a vivid memory that he can still remember the fresh scarring on his fingers in clarity and how the tone of her skin reminded him of a desert under a starless night sky .  it is one of his fondest memories despite the pain laced through his body back then .  she stayed with him for days     ,     a fierce dragon or knight keeping her king company      ,      or more so her friend .   but they have never only been friends      ,      least of all in that moment  .   when he kept to the bed in the infirmary and she kept herself tucked close to him to keep his nightmares from killing more and more of the hope he carried along with him she has not been a friend to him .  a lifeline    ,    a promise      ,      the wind carrying his sails forward .   and the most impossible dream he ever dreamed .   she saved him back then in every way someone could save another and he knew already then he could never pay her back in kind .   somebody else would       /      amends made with a reality he could not change for his fate has always been overshadowed by his duty .

          ❛   do you think it’s better or worse than you constantly looking as though you’ve smelled something foul?   ❜   he says as if unperturbed, in his own flawless mandarin.  perhaps he should have just let it go, he thinks.  what little he knows of zoya nazyalensky only reinforces that this might be a poor choice.  but somehow, the idea is unconscionable to him.   ❛   did you think you were the only one in this room who bothered to learn the most widely spoken language in the world?   ❜