in another world, she’d implore him to listen. the rose colored glasses she once employed at his actions are crushed under the heel of responsibility. the once alluring mystery of a man as wondrous as him is nothing now, not when he's drowned them in his pride . a man who loved the throne more than he loved his wife. a man keeping a trophy, a prophet hidden among his round table in plain sight. does he know the depth of fate? that each memory sings a new hymn, another promise. [ this is all temporary, this crown you bare is nothing compared to whats set to pass, this blood is nothing compared to what should be shed — be afraid. clarissa bites her tongue — silences the words, burns the prophecies on her tongue. he wanted a war. he will have one. ] so when he faces her, in the middle of the night against the balcony covered in darkness : it’s too much. it’s wrong. it’s a mockery of everything she's ever been taught to believe.
Q: WILL I BE KING? A: YOU WILL DIE LONG BEFORE THE CROWN TOUCHES YOUR FOREHEAD.
❝ you're making a mistake. ❞ her voice shakes ever so slightly , suddenly nervous around him. [ earlier, she would have said it was the nerves of being around the man she loved. the sense of intimacy in their every interaction, but now it’s budding resentment. ] she turns away, avoiding him. avoiding his eyes that expect answers or forgiveness, neither of which will come to fruition in front of her, the same eyes that haunt her dreams — but she can’t forgive and she will never forget. ❝ you've rushed into things, like always. ❞ moonlight paints her silk features, illuminating a pale glow until she's transfixed into a phantom of a woman, the haunting of a ghost meant to lay lament upon lament on an army of fools. lead by the man she thought she loved. clarissa spares him a single forlorn look, a glance as eyes gloss over. ❝ you're going to die here & i won't be there to save you. ❞
selected impromptu spur. post-war invasion. atlas & clarrisa. ♡ @versusnight
