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[cursedfortune]

🌺 send this to ten muns you think are wonderful 🌺 EAT IT YOU FUCK (affectionate <3) PS: Your local sin, loves you this much!

(THAT MUCH, AS FAR AS HIS ARMS CAN STRECH WITHOUT FALLING OFF.)

@fallesto in relation to x and x.

"Husband just wants to stop using his own hand. If he's so desperate, he can simply get on his knees and say so." The witch crossed one leg over the other, propping her chin upon the back of her hand as she leaned into his direction. "Like a good husband should."

Though, without a doubt, even when she was affectionately bullying him, Regulus still managed to make her heart flutter with how much he loved her. It was very much mutual, of course. Especially seeing him struggle to stretch his arms out further. Truly difficult to not get up and leap into those open arms but alas, she could not cave so easily!

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Black forests inhabit her; midnight, moonlight, dreams.

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“  i told you, i’ll love you no matter what. i’ll wipe the blood off your skin. i’ll clean the dirt off your hands from every grave you dig. i don’t care if you’re a monster.  ”

My Brand. @fallesto

It was all in ruins. Systematically they had brought the capital to its knees. It yielded, finally. They had played the game of politics and won fairly. Changes were made, little by little. Nobles went missing, laws were altered - as if she'd be told what to do, who to marry. They had spent so long alone only to find one another. The others spoke unfairly of him to him face and behind his back.

"Your knights seems quite... obsessed."

Black eyes turned upon the first prince they had produced to stand before her. He spoke of how close they seemed to be and because of it she turned him into a frog. Tossed the once prince into the pond outside of her window to watch him suffer within his new habitat.

"That knight of yours is very unusual looking. Such bizarre features on an average face."

The next one commented, unable to understand how a man so lean could be capable of wearing full armor when need be. She made him an especially ugly toad and threw him into the pond with the last one.

Regulus was not the only one who would not stand for such things.

That was her husband they insulted! He loomed closely behind or beside her at all times. He went where she went as often as possible. Her most trusted companion. With good reason, of course, given they were married already.

When the time came to reveal themselves - that the people of the nation elected a witch to lead them, one paired with a sin archbishop, they were stunned. And then, inevitably, they retaliated. It was as expected, in truth, seeing the mortals prove they were incapable of following their own rules.

Their retaliation was met with her swift hand before Regulus even had the chance to clean sweep the angry mob. She could accept their fear and anger at her, at the power of a witch. What she could not accept was how shallow and disrespectful they had been to him during this entire campaign to play by their rules.

Time and effort went in to behave how they did, to go through the steps and follow their system. To win fairly, justly. To be what the people both wanted and needed - and look at that, they had won fairly. Yet that wasn't enough in the face of this world's prejudices.

The open court she held to hear their protests, their feelings on the matter ended when she abruptly painted the room red with them all. As she had listened, one by one she collected the needed strings of their life forces with unseen and deft fingers. The moment she had enough all of them were tugged at once, entropy called upon gruesomely as she tore open their vessels and spilled their insides out.

The floor, the drapes, the walls were covered. She, too. After going down to their level, to appeal to them and see if commonalities could be found... it would seem the only ones that existed was the violence they felt towards her and that she felt towards them.

Not that it mattered now.

"I'm done." The witch declared to no one but her husband who was left standing there. Alive, well. Behind her by the throne still, clear of the blood splatter. As he deserved. Her words was the only warning he had before she walked to the large doors and pushed them open with ease, the sound of an angry mob just on the other side.

A few seconds was all it took before people up front began realizing her bloodied state and how red the room she exited from now was. A few seconds was all it took for her to kill a chunk of the crowd.

Flicking curses upon the people was too easy. Tossing some upon the overhanging chandelier of the large corridor, upon the torches on the wall and watching as they came undone upon the people took little effort. Black eyes watched the fire arise and took advantage of it - carving her way through the angry mob.

Systematically they had won this nation and offered it prosperity and life under the rule of a witch and archbishop. Their refusal benefitted no one. Out front she accepted the challengers that came her way and fought them without a weapon, using her bare hands to demoralize and intimidate further the population. Bones broke under her grip, weapons shattered, flesh was torn open when she clawed at those that announced themselves as their enemies.

"Your fields will be plagued. Your families will starve. Your wells will dry up. Your protectors will fall. Either the people yield and kneel or this kingdom will come to house only two souls within it."

It was a promise. A curse. One that took effect as she stayed within the courtyard, bringing death to anyone that came to challenge their rule.

So often she allowed her husband to protect her, because he wished to. He felt it was his duty to use his ability in such a manner. He had heard only from his wife of her exploits back where she hailed from, he had seen little of the menace she could be. How bloody she was willing to become. For him.

There was much Mortem would endure on her own but when it came to having a spouse, she found her tolerance decreased quite a bit. She had no patience to works things out beyond what they had tried. An olive branch had been offered and denied. It was the most she was willing to do and now there was no reason she had to hold back.

Only when her opponents ceased to come forth did she finally sit upon the ground and feel... empty. The entire time her sole focus had been on keeping track of where Regulus was and systematically breaking their enemies until no one else came forth. A great curse befell the kingdom; the wells were drying up, the farms were rotting, so many knights had been slain.

Her dress was in shambles, revealing much of her marked skin beneath. Runes and sigils that allowed her to do what she just did. Blood dripped from her hair and face, even when she wiped it away it seemed almost endless. Wounds she had received in combat healed seconds to minutes after the fact. Even when they attempted to fully decapitate her she marionetted herself until her wound sealed shut once more, allowing her full mobility once more. It didn't matter how deep their weapons went, what they cut off - she sneered through whatever pain she could still feel and endured. Regenerated, kept going as if she was an endless beast bearing an awful burden.

Monster! They had screamed as their final words.

Words that still echoed in her mind here and now as she caught her breath. What her husband had been doing as she fought was not something she had fully taken into account - only paying attention of where he was. Like she knew to look up upon feeling him before her, white shoes reddened. A single white glove offered to her.

“  i told you, i’ll love you no matter what. i’ll wipe the blood off your skin. i’ll clean the dirt off your hands from every grave you dig. i don’t care if you’re a monster.  ”

He didn't lie. The moment she accepted his hand and was pulled to a stand, the other wiped away the blood and grime from her face. The absence of feeling dissipated as she remembered this wasn't like her world. She wasn't solely enforcing change that needed to happen and alone in her journey. Warmth sparked in her heart, the burdens of her own nature soothed and eased.

Fingers laced with his as she drew him away from the sight of corpses at their front door. Through the hallway of carnage and back into an equally gruesome throne room - death was everywhere. Death was brought in his name.

The witch brought him before the chair that held all the power in this nation. To gaze upon it for a long moment before she pushed him to sit upon it. Her meaning was as clear as she felt it to be. This was his just as much as the one he had made for her back home. They'd share it as they'd share everything.

"You've spilled so much blood for me." Mortem spoke as she climbed onto his lap, her hands coming to cradle his face. He could remove the blood without any effort, she wasn't all that concerned over the mess. Not when there were more important matters to focus upon. No, if anything it was a token of her love. A testament to the lengths she'd go to in order to protect and adore him.

The witch leaned down from where she sat perched on her knees, straddling his lap. Crimson and plum locks interwove with his pale ones as her forehead kissed his, "This blood I wear I spilled in your honor. I had said before that by the end of this, we'd be able to walk freely. Even if it means killing all of them, I'll make it happen. No one in this world will look at you poorly again. Reverence or fear, I won't tolerate anymore of their nonsense. I'm done with them." Their hypocrisy would no longer be tolerated.

Her head tilted, stealing a tender kiss - eyes that had once burned with such fury were soft in gazing upon him. Only him. "I love you, Regulus." It was spoken with such emotion. Conviction. Promise. He was the only one who understood. This world was forfeit to their wills. They had tried to play nice and met resistance. They tried, truly. Mortals would not force her to marry nobility, they would not bend either of them to their laws. Enough was enough when it came to playing along with their practices.

The coldness she possessed before was gone. Her heart was alight with passion for her king, her one true love. And if this kingdom would not yield after insulting them, then she'd watch it wither into nothingness. It was no burden to her to watch them kill themselves and make a blank canvas for them to create with.

She was grateful he was at her side. The only one who ever understood the witch, the only one who would ever understand him. Accept one another. Love one another. His greed would be fed, her beloved would never go hungry. Not when she had so much to give.

[cursedfortune]

Rebecca Perry, Beauty/Beauty; from 'Kintsugi 金継ぎ'

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Postcolonial Love Poem, Natalie Diaz

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love is sunlight.

[andrew garfield about emma stone || the song of achilles, madeline miller || sunset, jungho lee || sunlight, hozier || rainer maria rilke || sisters, holly warburton || bloodsport, yves oalde || six of crows, leigh bardugo || kissing god goodbye, june jordan || unkown || david viscott || making amands - panel 3, holly warburton || carry on, rainbow rowell || the miniaturist, jessie burton]

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more and more, margaret atwood

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Andrea Kiss

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orpheus in spring by Jenny George

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(tourney): sender gives the receiver their favor during a tournament. (Regulus)

Medieval Classics. @fallesto

When he entered the ring she couldn't help but focus solely on the sight of her husband. So lovely... it was truly quite a sight to witness him in armor. She knew his ability helped him to bear its weight, after-all his usual clothing was inlaid with real gold. And for added measure, she was sure to enchant his armor subtly to help with such should his focus ever be lost.

Upon deciding they'd play the political game and lay low, it became evident her husband would be taking a far more active role than intended. The witch now in line for the crown and the archbishop was her knight. Roles that weren't too different and yet this entire approach made it just that. Them, hiding they were the enemies of the world to play the political game and win - to prove the witch and archbishop could play fairly and succeed.

As he approached where she sat and lifted his sword the witch smiled and stood, stepping closer in order to lean low over the ledge. "My handsome knight." She slipped over the tip of his blade her favor, the ring with their little kingdom's colors upon the ribbons that dangled from it. "Just you wait until I get my hands on you later." Mortem whispered loud enough for only him to hear, all the while gracing her dear knight with a graceful smile - playing her part, just as he was playing his.

Oh, she would see him this evening at the post-tournament banquet. A celebration, where knights and the one they swore their fealty to would attend together to mingle among the nobles. More politics to win favor and garner support. More of the game that she knew all too well how to play. Yet only Regulus truly knew where her sight was set; even now, dark eyes lingered upon his own. Truly, it would have been far more fun if their roles were reserved but apparently this world had some gendered traditions she had to go along with.

...Still, to witness him in such a manner was truly captivating.

No doubt her husband could feel the pleasant little flutter of her heart, seeing him in armor that was custom made to match his preferred colors. After-all, if they were going to do this then they were going to do it right. They had worked hard to not only look the part, but forge the documents necessary and truly made their little kingdom into something legitimate. Exaggerations, lies and fallacies-- whatever, let someone try and dispute them. With Regulus's knowledge of this world and her knowledge of the court, it was almost too easy to infiltrate this political sphere.

"You have my favor, my champion." And then, a little softer. "My beloved king." Lifting her hand she motioned to the ring the tournament would be held within. "Show them all the glory and prowess of our kingdom!"

Pride. It swelled within her chest. Pride she had for him, for his abilities, for their victory. There wasn't a shred a doubt in her face nor in heart, confident in their success. She believed in him as she has always. They were incapable of defeat so long as they had one another - nothing but trust, for he had never failed in her in any way before. Her husband was far too perfect.

Tipping her head to her knight she stepped back and sat down once more, hands folding within her lap as she watched him with nothing short of adoration.

[cursedfortune]

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In all her time alive there had never been one that always kept her guessing quite like him. Even the most unpredictable enemies she faced eventually she could see the full picture of. And while she knew her husband extremely well, there was plenty to his personality that left her pleasantly surprised time and time again.

A smile had graced her lips at his delight to see her in the library. It wasn't until she realized how little it was actually being used that she sought refuge from the others. The space was nice to walk when she didn't feel like venturing out into the fields. Quiet. As quiet as the level she often stayed on. In this vast manor it was nice to have a space that belonged to just Regulus and herself - one he tailored overtime to allow her some solitude from all the others. Even if she couldn't outright escape feeling all the souls, at least she could minimize greatly engaging with them.

It could still be quite a bit overwhelming but she made due. It wasn't like she didn't know how to cope within a kingdom for years on end.

While she may venture here or stay in their personal wing often, that didn't mean she didn't welcome his attention and presence. The quietness of Mortem seemed to brighten and bloom whenever he appeared. As if the fire within her had been fed more logs whenever her gaze fell upon him.

Ah, love. Two hearts beating in unison.

Perhaps one a little faster now. His touch as he sought permission only persuaded her all the more into the yes she granted him. For a moment she wondered if this was real but as he removed his gloves it answered her question - he was quite set upon seeking her company more intimately.

When he moved, she followed. Allowing him to direct her how he wished. It was... not a thing she gave permission to just anyone. With the witch, she always possessed some measure of control in the past. Here and now, though? She willingly gave it to him. Was that not love? To give your partner that power, to allow yourself to be vulnerable with them? Curiosity caused her head to tilt slightly as he perched himself upon the table wooden table she had been placing her books on. If he wished to be spoiled by her, she wasn't about to complain. It wouldn't be the first time she took a knee in order to taste him. But there he went, maneuvering her around to join him upon the table. This was new-- to not even try and hide them away. This place was empty, quiet, but still technically public. A thing he usually was quite against.

But any amount of attention from him like this she wasn't one to deny. Her back met his chest as he pulled her against him, to sit before him. The witch had only just managed to settle against him when he teased at her earring, as he buried his face against her neck. A small sound mingled with the inhale she took as he wasted no time cheekily trailing his fingers over her leg - climbing higher. Her dress draped over his wrist, as if preserving some manner of modesty that neither of them seemed to care much for in this moment.

Truthfully, she hadn't expected he'd wish to take his time like this. They had their long nights and mornings of bliss but afternoon delights were usually just a quickie to get them by. Otherwise they'd become lost for a seemingly endless amount of time within one another. Mortem lightly nibbled on her lower lip as his hand finally slipped between her legs and brushed against the fabric that acted as the only barrier left. Her hands settled upon his legs, holding them affectionately as she tilted her head to nuzzle against his. Surely it was evident in her heart the want, the need-- how easily he inspired desire within her. And not just mere lust, though that was there in droves. A longing, a yearning for his touch. One that words could not do justice, even when a small but sweet sound caught in her throat upon feeling the press of his fingers.

And if her heart alone wasn't enough, she was already so warm and willing against his hand. Her legs lightly pressed against him, spreading just a bit more - inviting him. Soft and eager. Always starved for his touch, unable to get enough of it. Of his love.

So much to do, so very much that always needed to be done, this was a kingdom after all and he was the king, he had a throne, a grand hall, he even held court, despite the fact that the only reports to be told where people confessing there love to him and trying to keep him happy, which more times than often, always did indeed lighten his mood and change, even if it can flip so quickly like a golden coin for the lightest of things.

With the court finished and only two people killed as well, a low number for a day like this he had left and made his way through the manor to find her, where was she and what was she doing, he tended to leave her be, whatever she wished for, she got, no questions asked, she was a witch, she got rooms, hallways, everything she could want, he snapped his fingers and made it happen, all to try and keep her as pleased and content, as happy as can be.

Within the library he just appeared, the flames fading as soon as they appeared, he often didn’t like to flaunt that he could teleport, as it was costly, and he had so many magical things he horded, than most often he used and abused them for his own entertainment, why not, he earned them, he got them, he collected them, he could do with them as he wished.

“This warms my heart …”

Despite the fact that her reasons might not be understood by the vast many, she was reading from his collection, a library that he had built, the urge within him to do it, like the witch of greed, the collection she had herself, was right here, that sinful greed they both had, urging them to grow there power and knowledge, which he had, and now finally someone had an interest within what he had here.

He had the world within his kingdom.

Every single secret and scrap of history, was here for him and for no one else, but to finally see someone actually see his work and know what he was doing, what his plan was for the world, that only one kingdom would remain and all others, would be just more books in his holdings, well it tickles the heart.

He stepped closer and closer, until they where so close that her smell was all that he ought after, no one could understand, how could they, her scent was unlike anything else within the world and like a humming bee, he would come back, time and time again, there was nowhere she could go that he would not be able to find her, and why stop at smell, when there was touch and so much more there waiting.

As he ran his hands up and down her arms, down to her hips and just settled them there, he didn’t speak, he just looked at her, the look, one that she knew was for her and not the endless hundreds that dawned his halls and rooms, that lived here with him and where married to him as well, none of them mattered, they never did, as the white gloves where placed down onto the table, over her books.

If she wished for history, he would enlighten her, but not now, now, well now was simple, he missed her, greatly and wished to show her that truth as well, as he would move, to sit on the table and turn her around, back to him as he shuffled backwards and sat her down before him and leaned, resting his head on her shoulder.

Turning to bite at the earring, on threads of her hair, to bury his features into the bare skin of her neck for the moment as his hand wondered, down to the dress, and then up, to settle upon her leg, to stand up with his fingers and walk up the stockings, to the thin layer of skin exposed there and further, upwards her leg to where he wished to go, finding her warmth and placing his hand upon the fabric there for the moment and then, feeling the heat, the want, the need, the wishing and needing and knowing.

This was love, pure love, honest love and it was love that he could never become filled with.

[cursedfortune]

"It's not different. It--" Her expression fell a moment as she exhaled a sigh, his attention gone into trying to find a replacement for the coat she stole.

Guess he won't mind her running off then, hm?

If he wasn't about to figure out why she told his coat, she wasn't about to make it easy for him. He said the coat was his but she also was his. And in that same vein, he was hers so didn't that make the coat hers too? Technicalities were fun to play with as much as he was.

The witch ignored his attempt to keep her within the room. They had an entire level that belonged to them, so it wasn't as if they were at risk of being seen in such ridiculous states. She clutched the front of the coat as she ran off, ensuring it would stay closed as she escaped him.

Or, as she tried to. He was quite clever, using his ability to create a loop. Fast as she was, Mortem knew how to slow herself down. Especially when she saw him standing there, his back to her. She stood at a distance with a smile, lovingly defiant as she backed up a few steps.

"Come now, lover. You're going to have to put in a little more effort than that to catch me~" Mortem dipped out of sight, tracking his heart and soul to keep some manner of distance between them.

Regulus seemed to at least acknowledge her words before and knew what she meant. He just seemed to not understand the correlation between the two, caught up on this coat being his. Which was a shame. Didn't she look so pretty in it even if she was swimming within it? He hadn't seen her in white and gold since the day he forced such a dress upon her - and she tore it off herself angrily seconds before telling him she was a witch.

Sure, his coat differed. It wasn't a dress, even if she wore it like one almost. It was heavier, not that she couldn't manage. A woman like her knew the weight of full plate armor, this wasn't much of anything when it came to the strength she could summon. It was nice, though. Cozy. She liked how it swayed - even if the tips of it were dragging on the floor. Not like the floor wasn't pristine.

Besides, her husband needed to relax a little more. He had grown up too fast and missed out on the fun that game with little harmless games like this. Of course, this game in particular wasn't really one he would have learned without a partner like her. A new experience. Surely if she could get him to see past his greedy stubbornness, that greedy need to learn would takeover? Or at least, here was to hoping.

"You know, we both agreed on how dashing you look in everything. Don't I look nice in your coat?" Mortem called with a little laugh as she looked around the looped hallway before quietly scurrying to hide beside one of his statues.

There where a great many things he would tolerate, but one of them was changing his clothing, he would not wear the traditional outfits of the cult, he would refuse it and do as he wished, after all who was going to turn around and second guess him and correct him.

Here she was, after he had been through the land and came back to her, parading around the room within his coat, did she not feel his soft and smooth it was, how he ought to be so heavy with the amount of gold laced throughout it, that it wasn’t at all, it was as if angels themselves had made it from fabric and materials that where no longer within the world, that it was one of a kind, made for him, crafted for him, bought and sold just for him and him alone and she skipped around within it like it was no big deal at all.

“Well that is beside the point, I would look regal no matter what, but that is mine.” As he pointed, as she lifted her hands, well wagging and waving sleeves to her chest as he slapped his face with his hands, what next, his white gloves, his black tie around his throat, his white waistcoat he wore, the blue shirt he had, his white dress shoes and trousers, his golden belt, what was she aiming to steal from him next.

“This is a violation …” Against his rights.

To look fabulous all the time.

Golden hues would watch her as she danced across the floor, spinning and twirling, the tails of the coat unable to kick up and twirl, being dragged across the floor. “That is different.” As he wagged a white gloved finger back and forth before her, what she did with him within the chambers here, that was between them and not for anyone else to ever know a shred of what happens. “You claimed it.” As he sighed, that was it then, he had no claim anymore, she was a witch, his witch, he could not fight her on it as he walked to the side of the room and opened the wardrobe and looked through.

“This, this, this!” All of this was rubbish as he was tossing coats out of the wardrobe and onto the floor, foaming a pile there as he would roll up his sleeves as well, standing there in his waistcoat instead, he felt naked! She had made him naked as well, how cruel of her when he worked so hard for her approval.

“Where are my good outfits!” She had been poking around in his stuff again, as the items before him, all white, all looked exactly the same, as he flicked through them to try and find another jacket on the level of that one. “What …” Wait, what did she mean, that she was going to get a head start, as he turned his head around to see her slipping out of the room. “Wait, wait!” Her dress, her socks, her shoes, her bra and panties! “Ah!” It was all in the bathroom!

As he bolted out of the room, running through the wall, as it parted ways quickly, his wife was running away from him, into the manor, with wives, cultists and guests roaming around, as he slammed his hands together, and would begin to change hallways, trying to circle the manor around into a perfect loop to bring her running all the way back to her so that she would run and bump right into his back so that he could capture her.

[cursedfortune]

He had charmed her all over again last night. Well, truth be told, she was still charmed even now - face first in her husband's chest (truly the most comfortable pillow in the world). They had snuck into the city, hidden themselves with her clever spells and his clever abilities. A large party? Of course they'd attend. It wasn't difficult to find guests they could confiscate the tickets from. A day out spent shopping for the perfect outfits, though neither of them showed the other. Consider it a surprise for later, for whenever they caught the other's gaze across the room.

Mortem hadn't expected her Regulus to wish to play as though they didn't know one another, but it was a game she was tickled by. It was all too easy to go with the flow when their chemistry was always sublime. They may be able to pretend to have never met well but they could never truly erase how their energy harmonized flawlessly. The scent of a witch and archbishop may have been suppressed for this outing, but the two could still feel it. That intoxicating pull that went beyond just what they were and their roles - down deeper, in their very souls, they were always seeking one another.

Her husband had looked beyond dashing. Ah, but then... he always looked dashing. Just like he always was charming her regardless of his behavior.

Even now. Like this. They were a mess, exhausted despite having clearly slept so hard. Her head tilted enough to peer at him, to observe the way he flung a pillow to darken the room and hide them from the morning light. An appreciative hum left her, as if he had never been so attractive as in this very moment. ...Which wasn't entirely inaccurate. To see her husband in such a state, an absolute wreck like her and rather than being prickly over it he simply sought to resume as they were. Comfortable. He made looking disheveled attractive.

The witch nuzzled closer, once lazy arms that had simply been draped over his form now moved to hold him as he did her. So peaceful.

Minus that ache... and there it went. Gone as his fingers touched upon her once, twice. The aches throughout her body faded. Which was almost a shame. How long had it been since she felt a hungover? And there was something so deliciously wonderful about the way he could leave a body like hers ache even hours later. All the marks he had decorated her skin with healed so quickly but the pleasant ache was a reminder of such wonderful things. Not that she'd complain about him clearing up all of it. That was nice, too. "Mm. Love you." Mortem chuckled appreciatively. Such a perfect spouse, choosing to snuggle up with his wife instead of being in a tizzy over their shenanigans last night. As they laid in an exhausted but comfortable pile of torn clothing.

She was all too content to stay there, even when the crashing of the broken bed startled her briefly. Mortem peered over, unable to help the little laugh that left her lips. Oh... she hadn't realized they outright broke it. But that tracked, given they seemed to have broken almost everything in this room.

"It's rather fun being the guest, isn't it? We should do this more often. Imagine all the parties we can crash." And the outfits they could pick out to seduce one another in wear! The food at such lavish parties was always good. The amount of sweets she watched her husband eat even impressed her. It had been such a fun evening. Dancing, hunting for one another, shooing away the mortals that tried to interfere with their little game. And once they had found each other the night had truly become divine. The men and women that tried to garner their attention all failed to do so. It had been impossible to keep her eyes off him for long. Everything about her archbishop was perfect. The way he enjoyed food, sipped wine, the way he denied others without a care - the love in his eyes when he looked her way, leaned close. The sound of his hushed voice when they traded flirtatious quips or when he laughed with such delight. His hands always finding their way to hold or touch her in one way or another.

It was meant to be just a fun outing but it truly turned into the most lovely date. Even their drunken meandering through the courtyard and gardens, getting scolded by guards was delightful.

The guards this morning, however, were less so. As they loudly demanded they exit, listing the charges against them. Spoilsports.

Mortem lifted her head with a soft groan. Holy shit... did their list never end? Though, she supposed they were quite wild last night even before they reached the bedroom.

With a sigh she planted her hands on either side of him and pushed herself up, hovering over her husband - giving him a lookover as she enjoyed the sight of him like this. No, no. No distractions. She met his gaze, "Either I pay them off or we make an exciting escape off the balcony." Mortem listed off the two main options that didn't include stopping time or just killing the guardsmen. They were lying low, after-all. Trying to do couple things. But better. Because they were better than these mortals, no?

She pushed herself up to sit beside him, ruffling her hand to try and fall back into place. They guards couldn't have waited for a decent hour, could they? Let the happy couple sleep in, take a long bath before starting their day. How many other guests were in the rooms around them, hungover and irritated by noise at this hour? For shame.

Mortem adjusted her bra, not thrilled to have slept in it but what's done is done. She then stretched her arms lazily, not unlike a cat as she listened as they still were listing off the charges. At least it gave them a little bit of time to figure out what they wanted to do.

He never understood the purpose of wine. It was an odd thing indeed and for two hundred years, he never really, needed to eat, to drink, nothing of the sort, it didn’t do anything for him at all, but with her, well he was more than interested to see what wine tasted like, what food was like when you could feel it, taste it and enjoy it as well, and so he was more than content to allow time to be lifted a little bit, restrictions taken away, and to feel things once again, within sense and reason.

This kingdom was nothing new to him, but together was becoming harder and harder to travel with, she was wanted, as was he and while their faces are not known, it would not take much for anyone to know, besides the world believed, the cult of the witch to be over, that every single person involved within it, had either been arrested or killed. That the world was indeed a better place now without them, so the less they know the better, might as well play into that and not capture too much attention.

“Look at you …” As he hummed for the moment, and would pinch a glance at her dance card and write his name on it and fill up the entire sheet, her time was taken, no one else was getting a single shred of a moment with her, only himself, he was greedy after all and he could not allow anyone to partake within what was his own.

As he stayed there, mingled with her, spoke to her as if he didn’t know who she was, as if she was a stranger to him, showing her what two hundred years of being within courts, before kings, standing before maidens, could do for someone, how he didn’t kidnap most of his wives, oh hardly, he had won a great many hearts, fairly, by understanding the game, playing it and laying on nothing other.

Than pure charm and speaking of love.

Giving them what they lacked, a man who wished for love and had so much to give.

“Ugh …”

All he remembered, was that they had gone for a walk within the palace gardens. Next thing he knows, he is flat on his back and staring up at a ceiling, with silk sheets around him and one sleepy wife looking to use him as a pillow, as he groaned and blinked, was this a hangover, was he having a hangover, as he tapped his head with his hand, no gloves as well, damn it. As he put stillness of time there and just erased the humming sound within his skull.

“What did we do, we are meant to be guests.”

Within this palace, sure they had killed the people who had the invitations before them, but that was beside the point wasn’t it. All he could remember was they kept playing around, acting as if this was the first meeting, wooing one another with such kindness and romantic words and playful glances, moving through the gardens and the palace halls, stealing a kiss, a touch, a glance, being told by guards to knock it off and to go back to the grand hall for the ball and dance and to stop wondering around.

“Hm …” As he looked around the room.

Mirrors broken, paintings knocked from the walls, tables overturned along with the chairs, vases smashed and water spilled, along with flowers all around and petals here and there as he blew up to get one out of his hair, to see that well .. this had been something that happened, and quickly, as his clothing along with her own, was ripped, torn and all around the room, great, one set of clothing and they had destroyed it like youngster within love, which was oddly the truth, it was young love, because time for them, didn’t budge an inch unless they wished for it.

Flashes, what had he done! He had ripped her pretty dress and torn at her clothing! She had pulled his trousers and everything else there off and he was quite sure with the window open and a gentle breeze, where his trousers, shoes and socks had been tossed in haste, down there in the gardens within some bushes, all he knew that she was upon his lap, riding him, fitting perfectly right there and then, his hands on her hips to hold her to let it happen, words, oh how he liked to talk, hardly a secret to be said in whispers, but there, he wanted to say nothing other than to confess his love for her and nothing more.

“One moment.” As he grabbed a pillow and tossed it at the window to knock at the curtains to lower them down to stop the light coming in, too early for that, far too early!

Looking around, on the bed, at the side of the bed, at the bottom of the bed and then falling onto where they are right now, on the floor, pillows and sheets everywhere, along with a half dozen empty bottles of wine and silver trays of food they had stolen all over the place with half eaten snacks here and there as well.

“One moment.” His gloves where missing. So he poked at her arms with his finger, to remove any linger aches and pain. He poked her forehead to settle the pain there as well, two hearts, was all he needed to cheat the system the world tried to force onto him.

“That was quite the night.” As he took a glance around the room once more to see, the level of damage that had been caused, and the fact that the bed, as he looked and pressed his finger into the side, yep, the wooden legs gave out and the bed collapsed and the mattress hit the floor with a hard thud, as he rolled his eyes, well someone was going to have to fix that, not them, some servant or something lesser.

“I hope we don’t get kicked out.”

Because there clothing was fucked, they where fucked and they would be chased out of this palace half naked, at least they didn’t know what they were, just two strangers who had come across one another and wished to spend a night they would never forget, as he snuggled up with her, content then to lay on the floor and get some sleep, before the guards begin to bang on the door and read out the list of charges against them and the damages they have caused and would be expected to pay.

[cursedfortune]

"So, heard that sugar is sorta your forte. The type to make dreams come true and set hearts ablaze. How accurate would these legends happen to be?" Those golden eyes were curious. For those rumors didn't even exist at all. He just wanted to get a dive onto the sort of response she'd make in kind. Maybe there was some curious secret to stumble upon here.

@astrxlfinale and the sugar mama shennanigans

Alright, bet. Game on.

The witch shifted closer, leaning into his personal space to eye him with each sentence he uttered. "Oho?" Mortem's gaze raked over his form, assessing his value.

"I've been known to do such... for those I find worth the investment." She squinted slightly, meeting his golden gaze with some vague amusement. "What kind of sugar you seeking?"

[cursedfortune]

6. for our muses to have drunk sex 

Quiet. @fallesto in relation to this. because i can. >:)c

Regulus was a lightweight, it turned out. Which didn't surprise his wife in the slightest, seeing how he quite literally barely ate or drank anything in his life. His experience with wine had been minimal, she knew. Which was why she was so amused when he decided to roleplay pretending they were strangers meeting for the first time earlier in the night.

A game she was all too happy to engage in. A lone witch of a woman at quite the impressive banquet-- alone. A true tragedy. It was slander on his tongue to say she wasn't married, especially when he was so cheekily brushing back her hair to view their version of a wedding ring. It only made her lips curve into a smirk. Perhaps teaching him to play around helped after-all? Though her husband did often tend to surprise her in his own ways with games. This one was definitely new.

They spoke as if they had never met while sharing knowing glances - the room itself wholly ignored. Her dance card had no hope for any other, not when he occupied it in full. Even when they were just pretending to not know one another, they still clicked in all the right ways.

The alcohol made by humans wasn't potent enough for her, unfortunately, but she managed to keep up with him by pouring her own brew into her glass between those he stole off of trays to give to her. Watching as her husband became more and more prone to the alcohol he was consuming. She caught up to him right quick, just before they decided to go for a stroll out in the large courtyard...

And then nothing.

What happened...?

The witch was face down in his chest, mostly on her stomach and... her legs were positioned weird. His were too. She lifted her head and squinted, sighing at the brightness of the curtains left open. And them, ah, tangled up with one another in a poor state of undress. Yet she knew well how it felt the next day whenever they indulged in the flesh, it was clear to her at least one thing that happened last night.

Fragments of wandering the courtyard, keeping up their charade - romancing one another. Sultry voices, seductive touches. Despite how they explored this place, they couldn't keep their hands off one another and it became too much. Every corner they tucked away in led to them being shooed off, never making it beyond heated kisses and some fondling. But that hardly seemed to dampen their mood as they made their way back to their room and, behind closed doors, could properly ravish one another.

It was rather unhinged, wasn't it? All restraint out the window. No thoughts, just carnal desires. No working her husband up to realizing she was trying to have sex with him. No games or dancing around it. They hadn't even managed to get undressed fully. His outer layers were stripped but his shirt was still one, mostly unbuttoned and completely untucked. His pants had been undone enough to get the job done.

Mortem squinted. She couldn't see her undergarments. They were missing. This dress had been perfect for hiking up and holding onto to. They had been fully invested, drunk, impassioned-- and unrelenting. It had been quite the dance, no? Meeting with such unfiltered intensity, uncaring for how messy they were. Hair a mess, clothing ripped and pulled in places. Bruising grips as they sought to wrangle one another however they wished.

She had fitted herself upon his lap so perfectly; reddened his lips with every kiss and tease of her teeth. Her makeup smeared upon her lips first, his own sporting the ashen color not that either of them were focused on such. All there was, was his hands on her hips - gripping her tight as she rode him. She could remember how his hand tore open part of the front of her dress, leaving her mostly in the bra beneath - only to become too distracted by pleasure, forced to hold on tight.

Again. Their positions changes; breathy chuckles between eager moans and groans. At some point the bed became crooked. Chances are when she was gripping the bedding when he planted his feet upon the floor behind her.

How long were they at it for? She wondered if the wine just threw out all his restraint. It wasn't that unusual for them to seek a couple of orgasms but last night was a blur of bodies moving in tandem and seeking release again and again.

Until their lovemaking sent them to the floor, tangled not just in clothing and limbs, but upon the blankets as well. Exhausted, they had rolled over and she passed out. Face first upon his chest, as he had done many times upon hers.

"I don't have bones." The witch whined softly as her face met his chest again. Oh... her head was pounding. Much like what they did the night prior. Eyo'!

It took her a long moment there before she lifted her face once more and squinted. The rest of the room... was a mess. They must have taken it away from the bed at one point. Things knocked off of surfaces, some artwork was crooked. How many times...?

Oh. Oh her legs were still jelly. How was that possible with her spell?!

The witch squished her cheek against his check, listening to his heartbeat. A drunk husband hellbent on roleplaying seemed to really get him going. Absolutely noted.

[cursedfortune]

@fallesto in relation to x.

She watched him as he registered and came to... a very him conclusion. One that made her utter a little sigh before she bounced back. Determined.

“May I have it back!”

The witch gave a little shake of her head and for good measure, even hopped back gracefully to ensure she was out of reach. Sure, he could use his ability to barricade her within an invisible barrier but she also knew he restrained himself around her compared to others. At least, when he could. It was progress.

"I think you'd look dashing in my dress... but that's not the point." As she lifted her hands, or more like the sleeves her hands were hidden within, up to her chest. Though she had buttoned his coat she still did her best to keep it closed. Modest. But he had been quick to deduce her state of undress with another means. Such a stinker when it came to playing along, wasn't he?

The witch lightly danced across the floor, her gaze on him as she crossed the room but not towards him. By the look on her face and the way she moved, it was clear she was in a playful mood. "My love, I implore you to think for a moment on the times I remove my clothes in your presence. You'll see this isn't a theft meant to make you feel mocked. This coat is an extension of you and thus I claimed it for myself. Perhaps there's more of you I wish to get my hands on...?" Her head tilted a little, dropping hints.

It was clear very early on to Mortem he knew nothing of the intricacies of romance. Always one to not understand a joke, teasing, these games. But as always, she was determined to teach him. Not because she wanted to change her husband, but she wanted explore love with him. In all the ways they knew love to be and all the ways they didn't. Besides, Regulus gave himself too little credit. He could be playful when he wanted to be. A true charmer that wooed her heart.

"Mull it over a few minutes, why don't you? I'm going to get a head start~!" What did she mean? It was clear a moment later when she dipped out of the room and scurried off down the corridor - seeking a place to flee and hide. It would seem she was set on derailing his day.