#warvalor

& THE STORY OF THE GIRL BORN FROM ROSES WAS ONE MANY KNEW, especially in the village she resided in with the man who find her & called her his daughter despite her lack of relation, treating her as one of his own until his untimely passing when she was still young — young enough to believe the world was good yet old enough to see the cruelty that lay beneath the joyful exteriors projected by each person around her.

It is cruelty that she sees in the way they dance around her as if she did not exist for so long, even now barely accepting her. It is disgust she hears in their voices as they whisper the tale of the beast man who did not know love, hatred for someone who likely did not exist.

Quite often, they warned her of the man who lived in the castle in the woods & his emotionless heart, cursed to wander the halls for the rest of his eternity, to meet death either by another’s hand or the curse bestowed upon him so many years ago — a man none knew by name but only by voice, a tale passed down for so long that he surely must have been deceased by this point. The curse of the man who lived only by the petals of a flower was one she had grown aware of through the reading of books from the village’s library & the words of those who had seen the man & lived to tell the tale.

It is now that she finds herself in the gardens of the man’s castle, not wishing to catch even a glimpse. It was not of her intention, an accident that she stumbled across the garden while searching for a place to read in the shade that was offered by the leaves of trees in the middle of the day. Sunlight filtered in the woodland was not blocked by the building, albeit that was to be expected, but it was old in ways she could not imagine, ivy snaking its way up from the ground to each window, yet the roses in the garden were not wilted, fresh as any she had ever seen & the urge to touch them was difficult to resist.

( they were her home, the flowers were. they embraced her in their softness & caged her with their thorns; a protection she had never desired but found herself grateful for. )

   The   not-so   subtle   invitation   was   a   clear   indication   Rozu   was   inhuman.   If   in   which   his   stocky   demeanor   didn't   give   it   away.   A   giggle   slips   past   his   lips,   ❛   You   humans   are   all   the   same.   ❜   In   truth,   the   incubus   had   nothing   helpful   to   say--   only   that   to   entertain   himself.   ❛   Taking   everything   at   face   value.   But   you--   ❜

   Rozu   stepped   closer,   running   his   gauntlets   over   the   counter   that   help   various   beakers   of   questionable   substances.   ❛   You   have   something   special   about   you,   don't   you   Doctor   ?   ❜

make my muse choose // accepting. @spitefulgames​ // Rosaline [Victor or Lucien]

IT IS A DIFFICULT DECISION, especially when she considers her relationships with the two men — with Lucien, who was always kind to her despite his betrayals, & with Victor, who despite his cold exterior was always so terribly fond of her in ways she could never understand. In the end, it was clear who she would choose, considering the things she had put them both through.

❝I think... I would choose Victor.❞ It is an admission that digs claws of guilt into her soul, but in the end, it was Victor who was willing to do so much for her, who was willing to save people despite his own feelings — where Lucien had kept her safe despite his mission, it was Victor who had been selfless enough to let her die even though he never wished to.

& THERE IS THAT SILENCE ECHOING THROUGHOUT HIS SOUL AGAINST, stealing what little life is left in a never-ending cycle of sadness that he cannot seem to run from no matter what day it may be or who he may have. It takes & takes until there is little left to give but a box full of pictures wrapped in cat-print paper with a purple bow on top in the colour of the other’s soul as he approaches, standing by his side yet not saying a single word.

( what is there to say, in the end? that he is sorry? that he shouldn’t have let anything happen? even now, months on, there is a tension between him & the rfa that cannot be shaken off so easily, leaving jihyun’s presence scarce at best & non-existent at worst. )

❝Aren’t you going to get cold, Jumin?❞ His voice is a whisper, those words meant only as an indicator that he was there, late as he may be — at almost midnight on the day of his closest friend’s birthday, he was much more than late, having almost missed it. However, there seems no discontent tonight, no anger in the eyes of his friend as Jihyun steps out onto the balcony to stand by his side, staying much closer than he should & letting the small smile on his lips linger for just a moment.

( & what wouldn’t he give to be more than just a treasured friend? )

❝I brought you something.❞ He offers in place of something else, words that would not come to him yet stayed on the tip of his tongue, daring him to speak them but knowing he never would. ❝I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I’ll be staying, this time. I promise.❞ 

soft sentence starters // accepting @warvalor​ // “Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just—” - jumin and jihyun

& THE SOFTNESS OF THAT TOUCH LINGERS ON HIS SKIN. For a moment, he allows himself this; that warmth against his skin, wholly undeserved considering his sins, & the fondness in that voice which he wishes he could take & keep for himself, lock away deep in the dungeons of his heart never to let free — lock this memory in mind for it to sing him back to sleep. However, this does not belong to him. No, that kindness reflected in those eyes, that weariness he has caused Jumin time & time again as he distanced himself, drifted away in his desires to save them all that he had simply become isolated.

( he has been adrift at sea, but jumin has always been the one to drag him back to shore, to make him feel like he is whole & not just an empty man where the sun used to be. )

❝Jumin...❞ That quiet voice, that melancholy reaches into his soul as that name falls from his lips. For a moment, it is quiet, those fingers remain, despite the hair long having been brushed away & he falters — just one moment, he can have that, can’t he? — stepping closer until there is no space left between them, his own hand reaching up to take Jumin’s, pulling it away from his eyes. ❝There’s no need for that.❞ No need to treat him with such kindness when it is undeserved.

( one moment, he reminds himself as he hides his face in the other’s shoulder, not letting go of his hand. just one moment, he tells himself, as he closes his eyes & allows himself to recall that this is where he belongs — by the side of the man he has fallen in love with, no longer blinded by the sunlight that once filtered through rika’s eyes.

& SHE HATED THE LIFE OF A PRINCESS; the responsibilities that she had no choice in, simply existing to live a life married off to a stranger under the guise of alliance, a man who is a prince in title but she doubts anything more than a monster lays beneath the skin of Prince Lucien. While she had heard stories about his kindness & his patience, she was unsure if they were simply fabricated to make him sound better or if there was a slither of truth to the things she had learned about her future husband,

( & how she detests this all. the expectation to blindly marry a man she has never met & never wishes to know. the fact this is her only choice in the matter, no matter how little she wishes for it. marriage is inevitable, in the end, regardless of how she wishes to marry for love.

a princess does that have such luxuries. )

It took only a week after her engagement was announced that she fled from the Kingdom of Vuria, leaving not even a note in her wake. Only the bare minimum had been packed into the bag that rested on her shoulders — a few outfits, some provisions for her journey that should last several days, at the very least, & a few of her most treasured possessions. In the end, most of her belongings were left behind at the castle, unlikely to ever be gazed upon by her again, but this was the price to pay for freedom.

( & what a price it was to lose all she held dear. )

However, it had been little known freedom, considering the moment she left the kingdom’s borders & crossed into no man’s land — a dangerous place, she was aware, that spanned the outskirts of Vuria & beyond, filled with bandits & murderers, her parents had warned her once — she had been restrained by a man she did not recognise. With a warning on his tongue of staying still & not saying a word, she had followed, not even attempting to free herself from his grip as she knew her efforts at resisting would have been futile & she didn’t wish to give him cause to hurt her.

( if only you had listened to them, came that nagging voice in her head. if only you had done what was best for your people instead of running away like a little girl. )

Hours had passed since then, nevertheless, & hours had been spent sitting in a small, almost empty room, waiting for another; a man called Ares by her captor, with fear struck in his voice despite the smile on his face. She dared not mention the fear, albeit she wondered who this man could be that left even the toughest of men afraid of him — at least, the man who dragged her here had at least been bold in taking her in plain sight so close to the borders of her kingdom.

( i should have stayed home. she thinks. this was a terrible idea. )

It was not shortly after that someone else stepped through the threshold of the room, startling her from her thoughts. Piercing eyes, a light shade of violet she could only describe as beautiful, met her own, the shade of the ocean that the river lead to, only a few miles trek from her home. His hair was dark, much like her own, & he was evidently much taller than her. In the end, she could see why others feared him, considering she found herself intimidated as well. 

❝I’ll take a guess that you’re Ares.❞ Her voice is flat, filled with a tiredness that she cannot seem to shake after the day’s events. ❝Do your friends make a habit of kidnapping people...?❞ It is an attempt at small talk, although she ducks her head down, not daring to be much bolder than to ask such a thing in their conversation.

❝If not, why am I here?❞

♡ / @warvalor​: betrayal - lucien and rosaline HEHEHEHE

& SHE KNEW SHE SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN TEMPTED BY HIM: tempted to trust a voice as soft as a cloud-filled sky & a smile like a summer day. She had never before found herself entranced by siren song & gentle touches in return for her own affection — secret gazes in the company of others, hands brushing against each other as they walk side-by-side — & she loathes herself for never looking past the Lucien she had met, the man she found herself desiring, for there is a cruelty to him & the way he speaks...

( that is not her lucien, that cannot be him. the man who stands before her with eyes of steel & speaking of games of cat & mouse as if she is prey & he wishes to destroy everything that made her. that man is not the one she knows, it cannot be, for the lucien she knew was gentle & kind.

& the lucien she knew had never existed in the first place, had he? )

❝Was everything just pretend to you?❞ Her voice is raised, a harshness to it that could be attributed to the rage simmering beneath her skin, threatening to burn her alive & turn all she was to ashes. ❝Was I nothing to you other than a toy for you to discard when play time was over?❞  & how had she been foolish to fall for such a thing? Was everyone the same — Kiro, Gavin, Victor... Was this all just a game to them as well & she was the fool that had fallen for their charms time & time again?

Her eyes meet his for a moment & in those orbs she sees nothing: not a trace of sadness, of anger, of remorse. There is no care from a puppet master for those he keeps on strings, so why would she ever believe him to have any emotion toward her other than amusement? Her hand raises for a moment, itching to run across his arm when he is so close to her, & she grabs her wrist, lowering it & turning away, if only to hide her tears.

❝I never should have trusted you,❞ leaves her lips, a melancholy ache to the words & she cannot bear to say his name, not even once more. ❝You’ll regret this, someday, & I won’t be here when you do.❞ Even though she knows this is unlikely, she wants to hold onto the hope that she mattered & that someday, he’d realise it.

( & it is seconds later she takes off running, hands wiping away droplets of water that dare to journey across her cheeks. he never existed, she reminds herself, he should mean nothing. but the saudade in her heart does not fade & she knows she cannot escape kalopsia, cannot stop herself from looking back at these times fondly & as if nothing was wrong.

❝PROFESSOR LUCIEN,❞ is called out as she sees him, raising an arm to wave at the man as she approaches: it isn’t as if she was looking for him in particular, having decided to take a walk around the city to calm her nerves about her latest report, but her feet had taken her toward the science centre & it had been a stroke of luck she had run into him. As she gets close, Rosaline places a hand on his shoulder, a small smile appearing on her face before she lets go, arms by her side.

❝How are you? It’s been a while since I last saw you.❞ Her tone of voice is soft, quieter now that she is close to him, but her smile has yet to fade, as if she finds joy in his presence — perhaps she does. She has found herself accustomed to his presence in the last few weeks, has found herself relaxing around him as she found herself thinking of him much more fondly than most people. Although, her friendliness & care does not extend solely to Lucien.