#venomvice

for her to approach him out of her own accord —— rare. for her to approach him with such an emotion gracing her features —— rarer still. an unsettling something dares to crawl up his chest and settles in the center of his neck / takes root and spreads and makes it near impossible to utter a single sound. a cough / a clearing of the throat does nothing against the emotion and he continues to act carefree ; offers a smile and a nonchalant tilt of the head at her advance and prepares for the usual flattery that coats his tongue ( but it tasted different today / a blame he throws onto that stone that’s clogged his throat — ) she approaches and offers him the delights inside the box. there’s a subtle change in her expression and that darned something closes up / makes it hard to swallow / makes it hard to breathe.

how infuriating.

venomvice said: "i like you so much, sometimes it makes me sick."

she meets her with silence, a furrow to her brow, and all reyna can do is stare. there’s a weight to catarina’s words, a heaviness behind them, like something more is being admitted.

“ i don’t suppose i am an easy person to like. “

reyna is hard to read most the time, carries a guarded heart as easily as one might wear the clothes on their back, and there’s too many people telling her who to be that sometimes she forgets there are moments— like in that post-training haze shared between just the two of them, an evening with catarina in the praetor office long after the scheduled hours have finished, that second of respite reyna allows herself when she sees catarina returning yet again— there are some moments she’s allowed to be herself. and catarina has caught glimpses of that, those instances where praetor falls away and only reyna, quiet and almost tender reyna, remains.

the feelings are shared, in a way. there’s a fondness that reyna can’t escape, heightened when catarina leaves and ever greater with each time she comes back to camp. and that’s the sickness that comes and goes, the constant ache of when will she be back, when will she be back. reyna wonders if that’s the type of ill catarina feels, or if it’s something different. something there is no medicine for.

❝   what do you mean you  do not like lances ?   they are the most effective weapon from horseback;   no other weapon has the same reach !   ❞   he pops his hands on his hips,   an indignant stance.   his chin sways with the momentum.   ❝   not to mention  spears can be thrown from great distances.   i cannot think of a  single drawback.   ❞

     or is that all just an excuse? a cover-up for something as trivial as laziness? here’s a better question: who cares? this doesn’t do anything for axel. it’s just another day of trying to find his way in the dark; of fighting a war he has no stakes in and doesn’t even try to wrap his head around. he’ll get what he wants, someday. until then, this is something to do. a way of biding time.

     he slips into the shadows of the foliage surrounding the mansion and feels someone’s gaze on him. “great. just what i need.” chakrams at the ready once more, blood on them still fresh - he turns. it’s not like the higher-ups will care about some guard’s life. “no offense, but i’m kinda in a rush over here, on account of takin’ your boss’ life and all.” a grin; a smile with cruel eyes. “let’s make this quick.” 

venomvice said: 🗡

the scars are easy enough to explain away, given the lives that they lead. reyna could go with anything; fell through a window, war games accident, catoblepas bite. anything except say what really happened. coming home for the last time. trying and failing to dodge floor tiles and vases and everything else her father’s mania had thrown at them. furniture rising from the floor, culminating in that nauseating moment she thought hylla was dead.

because if she talks about that, she has to talk about what happened next, and reyna doesn’t want to talk about that. it makes pretty poor pillow talk anyway. but she lets catarina brush her fingers against the soft skin that stretches over her ribs where hylla had spent a good hour picking out pieces of broken glass when they both felt they had put enough distance between them and what used to be their home. catarina is surprisingly gentle with her, all things considered. reyna figures this is enough vulnerability for one day.

“ there are a lot of things you don’t know about me yet. but i hope you will, in time. “

                                lucina’s birthday presents / acc / @venomvice

          ❝ thank you, beloved.  ❞ the box, alone is stunning. you take your time, somewhat dramatically admittedly, you open the box. and your breath hitches. it’s beautiful. your etiquette instructors would be incredibly aghast by your just sliding the bracelet onto your wrist. 

             while you are vaguely an attractive being you know, after all you are robin and chrom’s only daughter. but your fashion sense is need of taming and but even beside that you never really had the time to have pretty things. with the shadow of grima over your head had put things like jewelry out of your head. survival mode always at the forefront. but.

                 but you could learn a thing or two about beautiful things. like the gold bracelet currently resting gently on the wrist you have slid it on to. it feels like a warm weight, something delicate means so much. you take a moment to observe the craftmanship, nothing like you have seen in ylisse, plegia, or at the monastery. you spin it lightly around your wrist with as much as daintiness as a warrior’s hands can muster.

calming.  /  accepting.  /  @venomvice​

Soma is no tactician, but they are VERY, VERY STRONG and EFFECTIVELY IMMORTAL, which, together, usually preclude the need to be.  Why fight smarter when you can FIGHT HARDER?  But now —— WHAT A MESS.  Another to protect, always gets sloppy trying to keep others safe.  The both of them crouched and hiding from the forces that have far - outnumbered them, Catarina sitting because Soma cannot stand and they need the support to stay upright at all.  Because Soma has a HOLE IN THE STOMACH, which is the most obvious of the abuses to this body but by no means the most extreme, and she is no doubt wondering HOW SOMA’S EVEN STILL ALIVE ————

Ah.  So much for not drawing attention to the vampirism - by - proxy.

“R - Rina —— you need run.”  She blinks to clear her vision, eyes settling on that shock of pink hair.  Catarina’s expression, twisted into frantic thought, fades to something Soma can’t name when she looks down at her.  She’s hurt, too, badly.  Very badly.  The rage that floods Soma at the thought of her BEING HARMED is almost painful.  “Go.  I’ll b - be ——”

“I’m not going to leave you!”  Almost offended — as though what Soma suggests is not only impossible but HORRIFIC.  Soma wonders if Byleth will be angry if anyone else finds out.  There are few other options, though, and they only have so much time.  IF CATARINA TRIES TO SAVE THEM, SHE WILL DIE, AND SHE WILL NOT COME BACK.

Soma hates death.  They could not stand to be the cause of hers.

“I —– c - can’t die.”  She must think the pain’s made them delirious, if her expression is anything to go by.  They shake their head.  “I — I come back.  I - I’ve died lots ——”  She shifts and the gash in her neck cries out; Soma follows suit, trapping the sound behind her teeth lest it be loud enough to attract attention.  “Not human.  Rina, you c - can’t die for me — !!”

“What are you —— neither of us are going to die!”

“Watch.”  She can’t usually do this in front of others, but she does.  A hand presses to that gash on her throat, half - beheading (  ha, ha, ha  ).  “Watch.”  It’s hard to heal a SINGLE PART, and they only have the strength to do it once —— but it might just convince her that SOMA IS TELLING THE TRUTH.  Soma’s hand falls from their throat, and their eyes close as the familiar sensation spills.  Catarina can watch.  Muscle and marrow rebuild themselves, layer by layer, sparks at the edges of the flesh that restitches around the new internals.  A grisly sight, she’s sure.  This body is not human and neither are its inhabitants.  Soma feels the healing finish and touches at their throat; feels the new scar there.  Their next inhalation comes a little easier.  They wonder if their windpipe was nicked.

“Soma ——”  Horrified and small.  They’ve never heard Catarina sound like that before.  Soma feels a brief stab of guilt for causing it.

“Not human,” she repeats, turning to look at her.  Her broken hands grasp Catarina’s.  “I — explain everything, when I — get back.  But if y - you die, YOU DON’T COME BACK.”  And she couldn’t bear that.  “PLEASE.  Go.  Promise I - I’ll be back.  PROMISE.”

She’s so pretty, looking this sad and horrified and confused.  But she won’t be pretty dead.

“Trust me.”  Soma’s voice is desperate.  “Need you to trust me.”

Catarina swallows thickly —— and nods.  Soma smiles.

“See — you soon.”

As soon as Catarina is gone, Soma exhales, slumping back.   Three deep breaths.  Then she smiles, feels fangs extend.  THEY HURT CATARINA.

Her eyes flash bright blue.