#yoinkies

Carrion is causing a scene. The sort of scene that starts with ordering a beer at a fine dining establishment, and ends with an empty can crushed on a head.

“Alecto.” Charon says, quite coldly into the following hush. Alcohol sputters from a hole and drips down her hair. He turns his head to the businessman on the other end of the table. The man is reared back, pressed to the back of his chair— jaw agape, thick-fingered palm folded to chest. A bodily expression of scandal. “Pardon my partner. They can be… careless, with the drink.”

He stands. Without looking, he wrenches Carrion up by the wrist.

“Do accept my profuse apologies for ruining the evening. I have yet to teach them better manners.” His nails pierce the skin. His grip is white-knuckled. Silence. He presses harder, adamant until he hears the hiss. Something wet and warm stains his fingertips. On the businessman’s face: the delicate, fish-boned twist of revulsion into fear. “I assure you this will not recur.”

Platitudes, a near-stammer. An uncertain flickering of gaze— like a shoddy lightbulb— from Charon’s placid face to Carrion’s blood-flecked skin. Charon excuses them for the evening. He exits, hand never leaving Carrion’s wrist. Many pairs of eyes follow them out.

everything

         nothing  matters  but  this.    not  you.    not  them.    this  moment,  this  love  that  you've  built,  that  is  what  matters.    it  is  all  that  there  is.    you  will  do  anything  to  keep  it  this  way  ;    no  matter  what  line  you  have  to  cross,  who  you  have  to  step  over.    the  ends  justify  the  means,  after  all  ;    and  for  you,  this  is  everything.    they  are  everything.

TAGGED  BY  :    stolen