#synravki

‘whatever you do, I will stand with you, as I always have.’  There’s no hesitation in his voice, as Dominik says that. he’d been sure of that since their childhood and his devotion would remain unwavering, no matter what they were facing. 

❛ If you’re in pitch blackness, all you can do is sit tight until your eyes get used to the dark. ❜ There’s only so much they can allow themselves here in the camp, but now Dominik leans against Nikolai, the darkness of the night hiding them from prying eyes. They both know he isn’t truly talking about that though. His own words taste bitter on his tongue, still it’s a lesson he’s learned. Dreams have died and forced him to face reality: a harsh, unforgiving world with only this one way to go on. 

              dark  orbs  observe,  as  silent  and  depthless  as  he  is,  as  unfathomable  and  deep  as  the  ocean.  he  awaits,  for  the  other  to  speak  with  the  eagerness  &.  the  false  sense  of  safety  that  comes  with  the  illusion  of  power.  another  prince  that  awaits  a  bow  and  reverences,  that  awaits  a  crown  with  the  deep  conviction  that  it  is  the  right  place,  the  true  one.  they  are  all  the  same,  flickering  ghosts  in  his  centuries.  fingers  run  over  the  wood  of  the  table,  watching  the  map  he’s  made  carved  decades  ago  &.  at  the  center  of  it  all,  the  shadow  fold  :  himself.  should  death  come,  he  will  face  it  with  war  in  his  blood  /  there  is  that  thought  that  haunts  him,  that  he  has  never  been  made  for  peace.

             ❝    and what is it you see,    moi tsar?    a monster?    a demon,    perhaps?    ❞     the darkling’s words are hushed,    tone steady and impassive,    yet it reverberates against the confines of these four walls with a dragged out contempt.    thousands of titles had been tacked to his name;     but sneers and curses have long ceased to have a sway over him.    let them be ungrateful,    he thinks,    their words will hold no weight in a tomb.      ❝    —— or are you only looking in the mirror?    ❞ 

the smell hit her like the waves lapping against the wooden body of their craft.    her features contorted into one of   disgust:   nose wrinkled and brows practically kissing.    ❝    did you happen to freshly pluck that out of the water ?   i can practically see its gills still   heaving.    ❞    perhaps she was being a little dramatic.    the fish in his hands was most definitely,   undeniably dead,   but to her point:   it didn’t make it any more appetizing.    she crossed her arms over her chest and defiantly turned her head away.    ❝   absolutely not,   ❞    she repeated.    ❝   i would much rather starve myself until succumbing to a rather noble death than die with the scales of   –    whatever that is   –   between my teeth.   ❞

He's barely moved over the last hours, gaze anxiously on the injured, waiting for any sign of life in Nikolai's face. Still a small smile appears on Dominik's face, now that he hears the other one's voice again. "No, a prince isn't. But you are." Nikolai. His best friend. His greatest love. His home. That's what matters, not a title or that he's also the second born son of Ravka's king. For this man lying infront of him, bullet hole in his chest, Dominik would risk everything, certainly his own doomed life. Yes, it had been reckless to stay with Nikolai and make himself a target too while taking them to safety, but he would do it all over again. Carefully one hand reaches out for Nikolai's and when they touch the noise of the infirmary seems to disappear. Only the two of them matter in this moment. "I'm just glad you're alive. That we both are."

❝    what ?    but you’re so charming and charismatic and funny.    ❞          brows furrow as honeyed irises glare at him,    lips pursed as her pointer twirls the end of glossy locks.         ❝    do your enemies have terrible taste ?    oh,    it’s your hair,   isn’t it ?    ❞         gaze narrows as she studies him,   head tilting to the side as to further emphasize her train of thought in this oh - so - important search for answers.         ❝    or maybe your clothes.    ❞         there’s a moment of brief silence as she lets her words settle,   tone unchanging with its pseudo - peppiness.         ❝    my mother told me i should avoid enemies by killing them.    maybe that’ll work for you.    ❞         playfulness dances in the curve of ruby reds,   the teasing evident in her tone.