littledxves

[littledxves]

Apolline tilted her head, curls catching faint silver from the nearby lanterns, and gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was the kind of expression meant to soften sharp truths.

"The weather?" she echoed, her voice gentle, musical even in its melancholy. "Oh, no... I’ve never liked the rain much, but I think it suits London."

She didn’t look at him when she said it—her eyes stayed trained on the glistening cobblestones. There was something fragile about her, yes, but it wasn’t weakness. It was a kind of practiced stillness, like glass holding a storm behind it.

"My brother fought in the Resistance," she said after a pause, fingers folding neatly in her lap. "In France.When he—" her voice caught, just slightly, "when he was killed, I came here. It felt wrong to stay behind and do nothing. And besides..."

She finally looked at him then, something sorrowful but steady in her gaze. "I’m good with my hands. Potions, healing, mending what can be mended. I thought maybe, in a place where things are breaking, that might be worth something."

apolline glanced up slowly, as if roused from a soft daydream—or perhaps a memory she’d been reluctant to part with. the moonlight brushed across her features like the stroke of a painter’s hand, pale and delicate. a cigarette, long forgotten, sat between her fingers, the ash barely hanging on. her eyes met frank’s, calm and unreadable, like a still lake that might hold anything in its depths.

"then perhaps neither of us are very wise tonight," she murmured, voice barely louder than the whisper of wind in the alley. her accent curled around her words, french-laced and smooth, but there was a note of quiet mischief beneath it.

she shifted slightly, making room on the bench beside her, though she didn’t exactly invite him—only offered. "i find silence easier to breathe here," she added, gaze drifting toward the shadowed buildings that towered overhead like slumbering giants. "too many eyes in the light, too many mouths that speak without care. the dark is honest, non?"

she straightened, her posture languid but alert. apolline wasn’t naïve. she knew how the world cracked beneath its own weight these days, and she had learned the art of listening for footsteps long before the war began.

after a pause, her eyes returned to him, studying without suspicion—just a soft, solemn curiosity. "but i appreciate your concern, monsieur." a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, brief but warm.

[littledxves]

Isaline didn’t smile, not quite, but something flickered behind her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or amusement softened by exhaustion. She tilted her head, letting the curl of her hair fall like shadow over one cheek, watching him as if trying to place him in a half-remembered dream.

"You’re forgiven," she said simply, voice like silk tugged taut over something sharper. Her accent clung to each syllable, light and laced in velvet. "I do work there." It was statement, though she didn't elaborate further. She wasn't in the habit of sharing much.

Her words weren’t unkind—just matter-of-fact, cloaked in the gentle sort of mystery that she wore like perfume. There was something ghostlike in the way she stood, backlit by the flicker of a streetlamp, like she belonged to some other part of the world. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere forgotten.

"Isaline," she added finally, her name spoken like a secret being given—not offered. She looked at him now, really looked, with that same distant intensity. "And you are...?" Not demanding. Not even curious in the normal way. Just pulling at a thread, seeing if it would unravel into something worth knowing.

"Still, merci," she said gently, her tone dipping softer as she looked away. "For trying."

diagon alley 📍 open interaction 👥

the soft glow of diagon alley’s lanterns flickered against the darkened cobblestone, casting shadows that danced along the narrow street. the cool night air brushed against isaline's skin, the faint scent of jasmine and something sharper lingering in her wake. her steps were slow, deliberate—each one measured, a quiet promise of something dangerous wrapped in the silk of her charm.

she stood beneath the archway of a closed shop, her figure framed by the dim light. her eyes, pools of stormy grey, flickered with a glint that betrayed nothing but amusement. she had seen it—the clumsy attempt, the rushed rescue. a hand offered to save her from a situation that, truthfully, she had already mastered.

"i could have handled that myself, you know," she murmured, her voice low and breathless, a note of mockery laced in the words. a coy smile played at the corners of her lips, though her gaze remained sharp, calculating. she wasn’t the type to need saving—not from anyone, not ever.

hands brushed her shirt as she shifted her weight, leaning against the stone wall. her hair fell in soft waves, a golden halo in the lamplight, her expression half-hidden beneath the beauty of it all.

"you do love your little heroics, don’t you?" she added, her words swirling like smoke.

[littledxves]

Apolline’s lips curved with a softness that barely touched her eyes. They were too tired tonight, too full of all the things she’d kept to herself—held gently like petals so they wouldn’t bruise.

"Ted," she murmured, her voice as light as breath, as if anything more might shatter the quiet between them. She stepped through the doorway he held open for her, her fingers brushing the fabric of her coat, a nervous habit.

Inside the shop, the scent of dried herbs and something faintly floral curled in the air like memory. Apolline lingered a moment near the entrance, letting the warmth settle into her bones. Her gaze drifted to him once more, earnest and a little unsure.

"That's nice... what you said. Thank you," she added, more firmly this time, as though she needed him to know she meant it. Apolline didn’t often speak with strangers—didn’t often allow kindness to linger. But something in the way he’d looked at her, patient and without pity, made her pause.

apolline’s smile softened, the corners of her mouth dipping as if she shared a private sorrow with the night itself.

she followed his gaze toward the shop, then dipped her head in a small nod. "yes… i came for dreamless sleep potion." she paused "it’s been harder to close my eyes lately… everything feels too loud, even in the silence." her eyes lifted to meet his.

the candlelight flickered in the window beside them, casting long shadows that danced on the cobblestones. apolline took a step closer to the door but didn’t enter yet. she lingered, very briefly.

"you are kind," she said at last, softly, but firmly. "even when you are tired. that matters, you know." her gaze lingered on his for a breath longer, almost like she was silently thanking him—for standing here, for listening, for existing in a way that still felt human amidst so much unraveling.

she reached for the door handle, then paused. "apolline." the name hung like a petal in the air. "my name, it's apolline." she clarified.

[littledxves]

apolline’s smile softened, the corners of her mouth dipping as if she shared a private sorrow with the night itself.

she followed his gaze toward the shop, then dipped her head in a small nod. "yes… i came for dreamless sleep potion." she paused "it’s been harder to close my eyes lately… everything feels too loud, even in the silence." her eyes lifted to meet his.

the candlelight flickered in the window beside them, casting long shadows that danced on the cobblestones. apolline took a step closer to the door but didn’t enter yet. she lingered, very briefly.

"you are kind," she said at last, softly, but firmly. "even when you are tired. that matters, you know." her gaze lingered on his for a breath longer, almost like she was silently thanking him—for standing here, for listening, for existing in a way that still felt human amidst so much unraveling.

she reached for the door handle, then paused. "apolline." the name hung like a petal in the air. "my name, it's apolline." she clarified.

apolline’s gaze lingered on him, soft and assessing. there was something in the way he carried himself, in the set of his shoulders, in the quiet exhaustion that lined his features. a man held together by duty, by love. a man who had seen too much and still refused to turn away.

her lips curved, the ghost of a smile, wistful and knowing. "un peu," she admitted, shrugging lightly. "enough that i thought you might need to hear it, at least."

she turned her head slightly, the dim candlelight from the apothecary catching in the loose strands of her hair. there was something about war that aged people before their time, etched worry into the skin like an artist carving marble.

[littledxves]

apolline glanced up slowly, as if roused from a soft daydream—or perhaps a memory she’d been reluctant to part with. the moonlight brushed across her features like the stroke of a painter’s hand, pale and delicate. a cigarette, long forgotten, sat between her fingers, the ash barely hanging on. her eyes met frank’s, calm and unreadable, like a still lake that might hold anything in its depths.

"then perhaps neither of us are very wise tonight," she murmured, voice barely louder than the whisper of wind in the alley. her accent curled around her words, french-laced and smooth, but there was a note of quiet mischief beneath it.

she shifted slightly, making room on the bench beside her, though she didn’t exactly invite him—only offered. "i find silence easier to breathe here," she added, gaze drifting toward the shadowed buildings that towered overhead like slumbering giants. "too many eyes in the light, too many mouths that speak without care. the dark is honest, non?"

she straightened, her posture languid but alert. apolline wasn’t naïve. she knew how the world cracked beneath its own weight these days, and she had learned the art of listening for footsteps long before the war began.

after a pause, her eyes returned to him, studying without suspicion—just a soft, solemn curiosity. "but i appreciate your concern, monsieur." a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, brief but warm.

diagon alley 📍 open interaction 👥

the time crept on, stretching its weary limbs like a shadow across diagon alley, apolline found herself situated at the window of an apothecary long forgotten and long abandoned. the leaves rustled and cool autumn breezes whispered through the alley and against her cheek; yet, it was the heaviness within her chest that caused the world about her to resonate. she was neither here nor there; she was in practice. but perhaps the ambiguity of her practice was what rendered her permanence somewhat uncertain.

she licked her lips, caressing the line of her collar. maybe if everything could just remain frozen for a second, it wouldn't get all messed up. yet looking up through her thin lashes at the distant stars, she sensed they had never been further away. the alley was as saturated with present tension and the dust of disaster to come as it ever was, and yet her smile—a delicate, compassionate one—was featherlight.

"i promise you're going to be all right," she murmured to the present, her sultry whisper like a lullaby. to whom she assured—a stranger, herself—didn't matter as long as it worked.

she took a deep breath. relished the moment before her stress. the weight of war sat upon her as a reminder, something she wouldn't ever be able to change, and yet it surrounded her. but she'd give what she could relative to this—compassion, peace, and the implied deduction that despite turmoil, some things would still be.

[littledxves]

apolline’s gaze lingered on him, soft and assessing. there was something in the way he carried himself, in the set of his shoulders, in the quiet exhaustion that lined his features. a man held together by duty, by love. a man who had seen too much and still refused to turn away.

her lips curved, the ghost of a smile, wistful and knowing. "un peu," she admitted, shrugging lightly. "enough that i thought you might need to hear it, at least."

she turned her head slightly, the dim candlelight from the apothecary catching in the loose strands of her hair. there was something about war that aged people before their time, etched worry into the skin like an artist carving marble.

diagon alley 📍 open interaction 👥

the time crept on, stretching its weary limbs like a shadow across diagon alley, apolline found herself situated at the window of an apothecary long forgotten and long abandoned. the leaves rustled and cool autumn breezes whispered through the alley and against her cheek; yet, it was the heaviness within her chest that caused the world about her to resonate. she was neither here nor there; she was in practice. but perhaps the ambiguity of her practice was what rendered her permanence somewhat uncertain.

she licked her lips, caressing the line of her collar. maybe if everything could just remain frozen for a second, it wouldn't get all messed up. yet looking up through her thin lashes at the distant stars, she sensed they had never been further away. the alley was as saturated with present tension and the dust of disaster to come as it ever was, and yet her smile—a delicate, compassionate one—was featherlight.

"i promise you're going to be all right," she murmured to the present, her sultry whisper like a lullaby. to whom she assured—a stranger, herself—didn't matter as long as it worked.

she took a deep breath. relished the moment before her stress. the weight of war sat upon her as a reminder, something she wouldn't ever be able to change, and yet it surrounded her. but she'd give what she could relative to this—compassion, peace, and the implied deduction that despite turmoil, some things would still be.

[littledxves]

diagon alley 📍 open interaction 👥

the time crept on, stretching its weary limbs like a shadow across diagon alley, apolline found herself situated at the window of an apothecary long forgotten and long abandoned. the leaves rustled and cool autumn breezes whispered through the alley and against her cheek; yet, it was the heaviness within her chest that caused the world about her to resonate. she was neither here nor there; she was in practice. but perhaps the ambiguity of her practice was what rendered her permanence somewhat uncertain.

she licked her lips, caressing the line of her collar. maybe if everything could just remain frozen for a second, it wouldn't get all messed up. yet looking up through her thin lashes at the distant stars, she sensed they had never been further away. the alley was as saturated with present tension and the dust of disaster to come as it ever was, and yet her smile—a delicate, compassionate one—was featherlight.

"i promise you're going to be all right," she murmured to the present, her sultry whisper like a lullaby. to whom she assured—a stranger, herself—didn't matter as long as it worked.

she took a deep breath. relished the moment before her stress. the weight of war sat upon her as a reminder, something she wouldn't ever be able to change, and yet it surrounded her. but she'd give what she could relative to this—compassion, peace, and the implied deduction that despite turmoil, some things would still be.

[littledxves]

diagon alley 📍 open interaction 👥

the soft glow of diagon alley’s lanterns flickered against the darkened cobblestone, casting shadows that danced along the narrow street. the cool night air brushed against isaline's skin, the faint scent of jasmine and something sharper lingering in her wake. her steps were slow, deliberate—each one measured, a quiet promise of something dangerous wrapped in the silk of her charm.

she stood beneath the archway of a closed shop, her figure framed by the dim light. her eyes, pools of stormy grey, flickered with a glint that betrayed nothing but amusement. she had seen it—the clumsy attempt, the rushed rescue. a hand offered to save her from a situation that, truthfully, she had already mastered.

"i could have handled that myself, you know," she murmured, her voice low and breathless, a note of mockery laced in the words. a coy smile played at the corners of her lips, though her gaze remained sharp, calculating. she wasn’t the type to need saving—not from anyone, not ever.

hands brushed her shirt as she shifted her weight, leaning against the stone wall. her hair fell in soft waves, a golden halo in the lamplight, her expression half-hidden beneath the beauty of it all.

"you do love your little heroics, don’t you?" she added, her words swirling like smoke.

[littledxves]

tag dump ! isaline & apolline.

[littledxves]

DOC. SPOTIFY. PINTEREST. TAG.

#LITTLEDXVES   —   but you remember... you remember all of it. you remember the warmth of healing spells whispered like prayers, the light slipping through your fingers as you tried to hold onto life that was never yours to save. you remember the cold venom in their blood, the patients who did not wake, the hands that slipped from yours.

[littledxves]

DOC. SPOTIFY. PINTEREST. TAG.

 #LITTLEDXVES   —   but you remember... you remember all of it. you remember the dragon that you brought, the fire you conjured from your own reckless heart to slay it. you remember the cold venom in its blood, the way it seeped into your skin, a curse that still lingers.

[littledxves]

a   mumu rp   blog   for   ISALINE LAVOIE   /   APOLLINE DELACOUR    in association with #lumosfm.   run   by   anette ( @ditsycafee ) , twenty,  aquarius,   she   /   her,   opened march 27, 2025.