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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    blinded by the thought of us, anonya
    #1
    i will be brutal
    He never made promises, anymore. Who he is today exists only in this moment; and when tomorrow comes, it will find him a stranger. Larva knows this and so he does not tell Anonya that he will stay by her side until the end comes to claim him once more. He swears nothing to her, but he does not leave before the sun rises. The daybreak wakes him and he finds himself uninterested in wandering off to whatever new fate awaits him.

    He doesn’t promise her a single thing and she makes no requests of him. Even when Aubergine took her first steps, she didn’t call for him. But he found her anyway, didn’t he? It started as a simple curiosity, a frivolous want to see their child’s face and know what they had made. Now he finds himself tracing her steps across the forest until he sees her standing in the shade of an ancient, gnarled oak.

    Larva won’t put a name to whatever it is he feels when he reaches her and traces his lips up her spine. There is simply a quiet humming, a warmth that envelopes him when he curls himself around her. The world is always quiet in a way he has not known before whenever she’s near. All his monsters hush and stare at her, infatuated as the heliotrope is with the sun. He gives a sigh of relief as he settles now.

    You could wake me up, if you wanted,” he reminds her in a voice that manages not to break the early morning quiet.

    @[Anonya]
    Reply
    #2
    when you're dreaming with a broken heart
    She is afraid to acknowledge what she feels between them, even if she knows it is real.

    She is afraid of him trying to make promises that he cannot keep, because the only promises she has ever known are the broken kind. It is better, she knows, to not expect anything from him. To still be surprised that he does not leave, rather than expect him to stay. To see him walking towards her, backlit by the golden dawn, and feel the flush of warmth and a certain kind of astonishment that he has found her.

    To be pleasantly surprised and confused that someone has come back is much easier than healing from the hurt of being left by someone that had promised they never would.

    She turns her soft brown eyes to him, tracing and retracing the face that is now so familiar to her. He is still all jagged edges and shadows that she can’t fathom the depths of, and yet the sight of him is like sunshine has come alive in her veins. Her pale lips curve into a smile at the feel of his mouth along her back, and her small, delicate body easily relaxes into the way he curls around her. A quiet sigh breathes from her mouth, a trembling kind of relief to have him near again, as she turns to press her face into his broad, scarred shoulder. “I know,” she says in that quiet way of hers, almost as if it’s an apology. The breeze stirs at the pale flowers tangled in her white mane, and the morning light of the sun melts into the glow of her own faint, ethereal aura. She still does not understand these new gifts that had been bestowed upon her, does not understand why the universe insists on thinking it can disguise her brokenness and her scars behind flowers and unnatural beauty, but if it had played a part at all in convincing Larva to stay, she will be grateful for it.

    “I just felt restless this morning. I didn’t want to bother you,” she tells him with the smallest of smiles, daring to catch his eye with her own and immediately feeling the heat that flares across her skin.
    the waking up is the hardest part
    ANONYA


    @[Larva]
    Reply
    #3
    i will be brutal
    Sometimes he wakes up, in the hours before the sun has even begun to rise over the horizon, and he is quietly relieved that she is still there beside him. Maybe that’s why he always finds her like this. Maybe it’s because she holds no expectations for him even when she knows she could get cut on the bloodthirsty curve of his fangs. In fact, Larva thinks he could go for her throat right now and she’d still let him come crawling back after. It’s enough to make him want to be kind to her, to put her back together when he’s not the one who broke her in the first place.

    A smile makes its way across Anonya’s face and he’s surprised at how much he likes that. How long has it been since someone was glad to see him? He lowers his head and thinks of kissing her when his lips brush across the crown of her head. He thinks of it, but it feels too much like a pitiful offering of winter fruit on a marble altar. She’s better off without it marring the pristine perfection of her skin.

    The wild sage green of his eyes does not dart from her gaze when she glances up at him. His stare is perverse, but it is framed in adoration also - a quiet worship in the hollows of his mind.

    You can’t bother me. Few things can,” he assures her as he rests his forehead briefly against hers. And it’s true, that there is precious little in this world that troubles him. The majority of these things are his own thoughts, however. Larva has always made it a point to give no one the pleasure of getting under his skin in that way.

    What has you feeling restless?” he asks, his smoldering gaze revealing nothing of his thoughts. His face, cold and carved from stone, neither frowns nor smiles, but he does press his lips to her brow at last.

    @[Anonya]
    Reply
    #4
    when you're dreaming with a broken heart
    He moves as if he is going to kiss her and she goes still, save for the way her heart suddenly begins to race. She can hardly remember the last time she had anyone that greeted her in such a way; it was so long ago that sometimes she wondered if it had even been real, or if it was some strange death-dream her soul had conjured while she was dead.

    But he stops just short, and though her heart still jumps at the slight way his lips brush against her hair, she cannot deny the wave of disappointment that washes over her before gathering into a knot that settles into her chest. She cannot help the doubt that slowly follows; doubt that was already so firmly rooted after being left time and time again, doubt that she has been working on trying to shake. She has learned to trust him in all the small ways that she can – in that tentative belief that he would not stay if he did not want to, the cautious idea that he would never come back if he did not find her worth coming back to.

    She has been down this road before, though.
    She has trusted her heart with careless hands, has seen the way it is left to wither and wilt when they decide they no longer wanted it.
    Larva has never given her a reason to think that he is the same, but her heart still cannot convince her mind that he is different.

    There is a soft breath that she releases when he rests his forehead against hers, and unknowingly she presses back into him, her eyes closing. “I wish I believed that,” she says with a short, quiet laugh. She is so afraid of pushing him that most times she chooses to do nothing at all, even though she knows that isn't the right answer, either. But she has done everything right in the past – or at least, she thought she had – and still been left, still been discarded in favor of someone else. She worries that the longer she is around him the more he will start to see all of her flaws, or will grow tired of her insecurities and the quietly melancholy and guarded way that she watches him. 

    When he does at least kiss her brow she feels more of the wall start to crumble, disintegrating into dust at his mere touch.

    She still hesitates, though. There is a pause that while silent it is filled with the tension in her chest, a taut kind of humming that seems to vibrate in the air as she debates how much of herself she wants to reveal. “I’m just not used to having anyone,” she confesses softly, the knot in her chest tightening. “Everyone has always left,” or completely betrayed her, like her father, and her mother for not being there when she had needed her most. “And I don't want you to leave,” she continues, lifting her eyes to the sharp sage-green of his, and tracing the familiar hard lines of his mouth but not daring to touch him, “but I don't know how to make you stay, either.”
    the waking up is the hardest part
    ANONYA


    @[Larva]
    Reply




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