absinthc

[absinthc]

Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a diary entry featured in Rapture & Melancholy; The Diaries of Edna St. Vincent Millay

[absinthc]

���I hear it’s all right. Spicy, however.”

She had turned her attention to a small compact mirror in her hand, lightly powdering her skin before she regarded the doctor. “You might find this rude, but appearances are crucial.” Of course, she was also vain—but that wasn’t the point. “You’d be surprised how people are comforted by such a friendly face.”

And it lulled them into a false sense of security of course. Be the dumb beautiful object. Be the trophy wife. The beast still waited below.

“If you want me to be honest here, I don’t know what he did.” She shrugs. “I was called to… collect him.”

One of her hands graces a button at the top of her blouse before she returns to the doctor's side, the vibrant green of her eyes seems to dart toward the blood.

“Sometimes people are struck by misfortune,” Her tone is concise, but there is an intensity about her that isn’t unlike some sort of beast flicking its tail.

“Perhaps he wouldn’t have done so poorly if he carried a lucky rabbit’s foot.”

Astrid was accustomed to such gruesome sights but avoided messes whenever possible. Some in her field would consider it sport, but she thought it risky.

Stupid, even. Blood was traceable.

"You see this button?" She asks, "It's actually a camera. There's a microphone sewn into the fabric, as well." Her expression doesn't sour, and her tone remains remarkably neutral. It wasn't a threat, that would be stupid. "Neither are high-quality, but the evidence here is damning enough."

Her face grew wolfish.

"You helped me with something obviously illegal, and thus---" she doesn't finish her sentence right away, but the implication is clear. "You might find it more comfortable to think of this as... quid pro quo."

Mutually assured destruction.

"It's part of my job to establish a contingency plan."

She didn’t care too much, but through situations out of her control, it was a high priority that he lived. He had things he had to say to certain people. Though, in this state, it would be impossible.

She did little to mask her relief that the man wouldn’t bleed out. In a slaughterhouse, a slain pig would be forgotten among the masses. It was better that this one lived.

She watched his hands as he worked, her mind had begun to drift to the events that led her here, the drying blood on her knuckles—until he had mentioned recipes.

“I’m a vegetarian—I haven’t considered it.” Perhaps it was strange for the two to talk of food in such a place. But, as it was, Astrid didn’t seem to lose her appetite at such a grim event. “Though, I’ve heard there’s a Szechuan place down the street that has some sort of blood stew.”

She moved lazily away from the table, a hand reaching to a nearby sink where she had begun washing the blood from her hands.

“He hasn’t harmed me, personally. Gentle as a lamb.” She gave a light shrug of her shoulders before she continued, “But he has offended a generous benefactor of mine. It sickens my heart that he has come to such a state, of course.”

She would be in a spa right now if it were her decision.

[absinthc]

She didn’t care too much, but through situations out of her control, it was a high priority that he lived. He had things he had to say to certain people. Though, in this state, it would be impossible.

She did little to mask her relief that the man wouldn’t bleed out. In a slaughterhouse, a slain pig would be forgotten among the masses. It was better that this one lived.

She watched his hands as he worked, her mind had begun to drift to the events that led her here, the drying blood on her knuckles—until he had mentioned recipes.

“I’m a vegetarian—I haven’t considered it.” Perhaps it was strange for the two to talk of food in such a place. But, as it was, Astrid didn’t seem to lose her appetite at such a grim event. “Though, I’ve heard there’s a Szechuan place down the street that has some sort of blood stew.”

She moved lazily away from the table, a hand reaching to a nearby sink where she had begun washing the blood from her hands.

“He hasn’t harmed me, personally. Gentle as a lamb.” She gave a light shrug of her shoulders before she continued, “But he has offended a generous benefactor of mine. It sickens my heart that he has come to such a state, of course.”

She would be in a spa right now if it were her decision.

Astrid’s eyes hardly regarded the man on the table, and it seemed she only started looking when the subtle sounds of the knife met his flesh. Though once so enraptured by her painted nails, her expression fell flat and bored — like she had seen this before.

“I hate blood.” she says, plainly. Not in a way that denoted any signs of distress. “I’m enraged that we have so much of it.” She knelt, briefly, to the man’s face before straightening her posture, a deal of light disgust formed a wrinkle upon her brow — and then disappeared.

She offered a smile to the doctor when he questioned her. It’s pure-white and sharp, sweet in a way that it positively dripped poison.

"You might say he is a good friend of mine," One of her long, delicate hands sits over her chest as if she were making a speech. "I know everyone he loves. But the nature of our visit here is… confidential.” He was so sufficiently maimed when she brought him, and yet to her, it was just laundry.

“You’re a good doctor, yes? I need this man alive. I can always tell you after.”

[absinthc]

Astrid’s eyes hardly regarded the man on the table, and it seemed she only started looking when the subtle sounds of the knife met his flesh. Though once so enraptured by her painted nails, her expression fell flat and bored — like she had seen this before.

“I hate blood.” she says, plainly. Not in a way that denoted any signs of distress. “I’m enraged that we have so much of it.” She knelt, briefly, to the man’s face before straightening her posture, a deal of light disgust formed a wrinkle upon her brow — and then disappeared.

She offered a smile to the doctor when he questioned her. It’s pure-white and sharp, sweet in a way that it positively dripped poison.

"You might say he is a good friend of mine," One of her long, delicate hands sits over her chest as if she were making a speech. "I know everyone he loves. But the nature of our visit here is… confidential.” He was so sufficiently maimed when she brought him, and yet to her, it was just laundry.

“You’re a good doctor, yes? I need this man alive. I can always tell you after.”

“Margin for error is slim.”

Hannibal keeps his tongue muted, wedged perfectly against the roof of his mouth, as his eyes map out the intricate gatherings of veins, sinew, and pulse points he knows intimately within the photogenic memory of his mind. Even if he chose to bow out of the profession of surgeon, his knife is never dull to the direct areas that make or break the life of a man in distress.

In this instance, it was an acquaintance of hers (@absinthc.) "I am a former surgeon; I know of the margins," he delicately says, his curl of a smile signifying a dry sense of humor laced in the undertones.

"How well do you know this individual?" He speaks as if he's merely putting another slab of meat on the table, cutting away, as this man's life is literally sprawled out in his hands of bright crimson.

To save or not hangs in the air.

[absinthc]

cannibalism as a metaphor for love but also as a metaphor for metamorphosis and sex and hunger that does not stop at the stomach.

[absinthc]

darker vibes

❛ i would let you rip me apart if it meant loving you. ❜

❛ this fear you feel? it won’t last. ❜

❛ you are my salvation. ❜

❛ i revolt you, don’t i? ❜

❛ get the hell away from me. ❜

❛ i want to sink my teeth into every inch of you. ❜

❛ i’ll be your dirty little secret, if that’s what you’re into. ❜

❛ worship me. until i tell you to stop. ❜

❛ don’t you know how sick with love i am for you? ❜

❛ fucking hit me already. ❜

❛ i would burn the world for you. ❜

❛ i don’t want to be good, no matter how hard you wish it. ❜

❛ i don’t know how you’ve bewitched me, but it needs to stop. ❜

❛ fix me. ❜

❛ they die for love, you kill for it. ❜

❛ you are mine, whether you agree or not. ❜

❛ do you like it when i bleed for you? ❜

❛ i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you. ❜

❛ i’m starved for you, morning and night. ❜

❛ now i get to ravish you. ❜

❛ i am your god and your executioner. ❜

❛ you are doing so well, my pet. ❜

❛ you’re my sweetest poison. ❜

❛ let’s do something about that mouth of yours. ❜

❛ your fascination with me will be your death. ❜

❛ you’re the monster that’s enticed me into your bed. ❜

❛ all you can say are pretty lies. ❜

❛ the fucked up thing is that it isn’t enough to just love you. ❜

❛ you’ve broken me. all i can think about is you. ❜

❛ you’ll beg for more. ❜

❛ an eternity with you would never satisfy me. ❜

❛ i would gladly let you drag me to hell. ❜

❛ everything i’ve done.. every horrible atrocity, it’s been for you. ❜

❛ you’re a fucking nightmare. kiss me. ❜

❛ feel grateful that i allow you to touch me. ❜

❛ every time your lips touch my skin, you burn me from the inside out. ❜

❛ there’s no black or white, only gray. ❜

❛ no one touches what’s mine. ❜

❛ make me indifferent, make me horrible. ❜

❛ i could never be the one to love you. i can only be the one that kills you. ❜

❛ your lips are poison, your laugh a curse. ❜

[absinthc]

❛ you’re trying to leave yourself behind, but you can’t. the more you try to run away from yourself, the more you’ll have yourself with you. ❜ -corditeheart

Astrid supposed there was a part of herself that got perforated once. And all of the goodness in her body drained out of the chasm it left.

It spilt everywhere, got into the floorboards, and left her this bitter creature. She had no idea when her morality curled up and died, but she supposed it died when her very first victim did.

Or.. the second one.

In flashes of a moment, sometimes, she would feel the first one's death as if it just happened. The first time they told her what to do, a knife slipped to her in the darkness. A choice. But it's not a choice at all.

"So what are you saying here, Xu?" it felt like swallowing glass. "That I shouldn't even attempt to defy my predator nature?" It didn't matter, anyway. Xu was right. The further Astrid ran, the more it followed.

At first, she believed it was grief.

How couldn't it be grief? She buried so many, and every assassin had their share of it. It's why most--if not every--assassin had their code. No women, no children.

The code was more of a coping mechanism, a blinking light that warned of danger. It was a hopeless cry unto eternity, a last effort to keep their humanity. But Astrid was not ready to accept that it wasn't grief that caught up to her.

It was a feral urge she was hopeless to deny; a hunger that never left.

Her eyes grew so intense, her aura vehement and unyielding. She could don the skins of sheep, but even the innocent knew when a wolf stalked among them. Even if she tried---it would come back. Even if she filed down her teeth and changed her name. It would return even if she loved.

Cannibal heart set to devour---because, what was love… if not consumption?

[absinthc]

[absinthc]

[absinthc]

I FELL ONTO LOVE LIKE A SWORD

yves olade // ada limon // franz kafka // richard siken // x // richard siken // jessa crispin

[absinthc]

‘— a death-ridden woman, haunted by dreams.’

— Arthur Miller, adapted from The Crucible

[absinthc]

blog url change!

ETERISKROMLING → absinthc

[absinthc]

Monkshood flowers, also known as wolfsbane and common aconite

[absinthc]

Monkshood, also known as wolfs-bane (Aconitum sp.), sways to the wind in a mountain meadow, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

© gif by riverwindphotography, July 2022

[absinthc]

Denizens Of The Darkness

Watercolor On Black Paper

2022, 22"x 30"

Monkshood, Aconite, Aconitum

[absinthc]

do you have rules located anywhere on your blog?

oh gosh, I thought I did? My blog has been around for a while but I think the last time I switched themes it might have eaten my pages. Hit me up in DMs and I can locate you to a rules page.

[absinthc]

Astrid seemed unsurprisingly resentful when describing her marriage, holding back from glowering when she mentioned it.

"For the moment, I am Astrid De Vriese."

She produced an ornately carved flask, inlaid with gems that matched her eyes. "A little harder than the Chianti, but I brought that here for you. I advise you only share it with me."

Inside, it was a deep, amber liquor. The sheen of it, however, was purplish---like a bruise. There was undoubtedly a poisonous compound added.

"Alexei and I meet twice a month. He isn't particularly unpleasant, but we do not get along by any natural means."

Some of her wished she laid low with her Glamour materia, but it would have cost her the manor and her properties. As the process strained almost every nerve, it would have shortened her lifespan.

"I have some personal history with him, too. About ten years ago, I killed his mother, as well as his aunt." her tone didn't shift; it remained unceremonious. Her eyes didn't move when she discussed it with him. "They weren't even targets---they just saw something they couldn't afford to see."

The Collective would have probably killed her if she refused.

"It's a matter I'd prefer to discuss with him after the annulment, but if he finds out, I can keep him under surveillance."

She adjusted her position in the chair, her absinthe-green gaze briefly clung to his damp hair, tracing the tiny beads of water as they fell. "The last time I saw you like this, you asked me to immunise you. I'd jump right back to that moment; given the circumstances, I'd probably be safer."

The flowers that Astrid brought were a marvel on their own. Rich pinks and oranges shine through their delicate floral skin like a sunrise. They contrasted deeply with Astrid’s appearance, though the deep red of the vase that secured them seemed to match her nails.

“I’m here for the same reason as always,” she bent forward a little, and her eyes grew serious. “To annoy you, primarily.” The seriousness waned, but there was still something about her presence here that was always a premonition of something. Hell, perhaps it was just bad luck—the consequence one acquires when they’re an heiress with no surviving relatives.

Modeoheim was being rebuilt, and she was a wealthy landowner with zero ties to anyone. An heiress to oil properties and the expansive, meticulously decorated Løvaas manor.

At that point, it would have been less suspicious if they knew she was a killer.

When he asks if he’s in danger, Astrid simply shrugs her shoulders. “No, not necessarily. But if that wine I ordered doesn’t arrive—” A wolfish glint seemed to enter her vision. “The courier may lose his job.” One of her hands reached out to grab one of the flowers from the vase—the smallest one, wilting already despite the others standing upright and perfect.

She couldn’t figure out why, but it seemed to bother her.

“I’m also married.” She pauses for a moment, and before she exhales, her eyes pan over to him, scanning his features for any reaction. “For two more months—that's… part of our agreement, he and I.”

Though she held it delicately, the flower in her grasp looked strained against her nails. “I just needed the name; we hardly meet because he’s said my presence is… deeply unnerving. There was no ceremony—we just wrote up a contract.”

Tossing the imperfect flower into the trash bin, Astrid slumped into a chair across from him. “I still have my property and the estate, and he lives a very cushy life away from me. It’s merciful—but only because it has to be.”

The wolfish look returned to her face.

“Only that reason.”