#sunmad

It was still a strange thing to walk into the home of her maker. While it was still abundantly clear she did not belong here among these recreated halls of a family long since shattered, she did find herself in the library once more, lost in the old reverie of selecting a book to spend the night on. She was unwelcome by almost every soul that walked these halls but a text in ancient Greek did not care for who carefully held it as it was meant to be.

Taking up residence on the couch, she slipped off her shoes to fold her legs together on the cushions and set the book upon her thigh to cradle it as she read. For some time, it was just as silent as it was on her first visit, a virtue Rhoshamandes had appreciated. This time, it appeared that there was another lurking just out of sight.

SIMPLE SHIPPING MEME || accepting!

WEIRD & FUCKED UP DYNAMIC (NOS)

HMM YES... WHAT IF...

And: what if he sees something truly ineffable and inexplicable in Miriam? Something that exists beyond even his reckoning? What if he steps easily--too easily--into the role she has written for him? What if that only feels like defiance at first? What if he encourages her worst impulses, lends her the power to execute her will, and this molds her into an inversion of the prophet she was intended to be? What if, in doing so, he further blurs the distinction between fate and free will for everyone involved, including himself? Between prophecy and apokàlypsis?

What if he shows her the open throat of a world denied to her by the circumstances of her birth, then shows her how to put her hands around it?

"I told you no one would notice. You are such a good dancer!" To illustrate her point, she slides herself into his grip and pirouettes under his hand. She pauses only to appreciate the outfit she's picked out for her companion, then she tugs him forward with her play-pretend strength.

"I'm thirsty. Let's find someone!"

Her voice against his ear made Benedict giggle as she seemed to breathe life into him. Time had been spent with mortals welcoming him to join them some to dance with him and others just watch him at times. Even as he had been moved around as though he lacked the strength to fight against his eyes always seemed to find Miriam. Only now that her hands were on his arm guiding him away from the endless movements was Benedict free from it all. Scents blending together it was a miasma to the senses and yet intoxicating. Chocolate curls were no longer neatly tucked behind his ears as the movement and touching had worked it into a frenzy. Benedict couldn't hide the smile the energy making him want to be swallowed by it all and become one.

Pulled closed he gave small kisses against her cheek giving another giggle. "I must have learned from the best. Never thought I could blend in with them." Haven't ever lived a life that granted this freedom Benedict was almost fearful that Rhosh would not be able to sway him away from visiting again. Dragging the ancient along next time as though he could share in the enjoyment.

the chapel bell rings once, though no one has touched it.

arthur looks up from the basin where red water circles the drain, sleeves rolled to elbows, hands scrubbed raw around the knuckles. across the room, miriam stands in white like a candle that has learned to fear flame. for a moment neither of them speaks. prayer hums under the floorboards. footsteps move somewhere beyond the door.

he hides the stained cloth behind his back.

"That's an awfully roundabout way to go backward," she said and she guessed that was a bit of the point. The slow eroding of some kind of progress, the illusion that something was getting better only to look about an realize it was getting worse, so much worse. How far could they go before they were back at the beginning? The end? How much longer could they drag this albatross around their neck before the rot absorbed them too? Lucy didn't want to think much about that and so, instead she gathered her optimism like a child with an old blanket, worn at the edges from rubbing it between their fingers.

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑶𝑶𝑹 𝑯𝑨𝑫 𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑵 𝑴𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑪𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑳𝒀, which was why Ruby did not feel overly guilty for not going to find the young woman who wandered in -- though she didn't have much choice in the matter, as today seemed determined never to leave her with a free minute. Awareness of an unwelcome presence needled at the back of her consciousness, but it was not until long past close that she could do anything about it. The library was dark, shades drawn, and Ruby had shed her human guise, growing to near twice her height and clicking over the marble on eight claw-tipped hands.

Down she went, past the first three levels of the basement, which were unremarkable provided you didn't look too close at the shadows in the corners, and past the stony corridors beneath that, choked by miles and miles of silvery spider web. A few bodies lay cocooned in the hallway, just on the wrong side of recognisable. "Ma chere," Ruby called out, her low voice echoing unnaturally down the twisting halls. "Come out from your hiding spot, wouldn't you? Nobody is meant to be in the building this late at night."

@sunmad liked for a king aurane starter.

there is so much he could do now, and yet so little. everywhere he turns, there are council members demanding something of him, wanting to ask him a question or tell him the results of some other thing, and it takes aurane all his strength to not yell at any of them. how his father did this, his mother, his brothers -- he may never know.

it takes him a longer while, this night, to return to miri's side, to collapse into bed and feel her weight beside him. he assumes she is sleeping, but can quickly tell by the way she moves that she was not, or perhaps never had been. " i cannot do this for much longer. " he whispers into the night air. " being king is worse than being dead. "