desafia

[desafia]

mags being the Weird Neighbor is a trope i deserve

[desafia]

i want to be good. (i want you to fear me.) i want to do what's kind, and gentle, and right. (i want to rip it all to pieces with my teeth.) i want to make the world a better place. (i want to shove my suffering down the throat of the world and watch it choke.)

[desafia]

she wishes he would trust her enough to be transparent. she wishes he needed her enough to tell the truth without reservation. sometimes when he withholds it feels not like self-preservation but simple cruelty. why would he do it if he knows it's futile? why would he do it if he didn't want to keep her at arms length? close, but not quite close enough to touch the soul, the heart, the parts that truly matter. she has told herself many times over that words cannot harm her. her flesh has been marred, cut into, poked and prodded. her organs have been stolen, made incomplete. what do words matter?

apparently, they matter just enough for his to sting.

a small crease forms between her brows and she glances down. it hurts. she hates that it hurts. it's foolish. it's human. magnolia wants to believe that she is above it, but the more matt reminds her she is owed nothing ( not by him, not by anyone, not by the universe itself ) it makes her feel small. he has never made her feel that way. until now. her hands silently clasp together, fingers fidgeting with one another, nails scrapings against polish. the worst part is she knows it's just him. she knows it's how he is. he is self sabotaging, pushing her away and she shouldn't take it personally. even still, she feels small and inconsequential. she feels exactly like what she is: a broken, used thing that should have been buried six feet deep already.

❝ i—i. ❞ her voice refuses to work. her emotions are too strangled, her heart too confused. that makes her feel small too. she wishes she could yell at him, argue with him like any other normal person would. ❝ lo se. ❞ she finally manages to mumble. of course she knows.

despite all he is being, magnolia leans forward. she presses her lips to his forehead, just barely brushing his brow. everyone hurts her. one way or another. she can take it. maybe he needs someone who can absorb it and endure. ❝ if. do-don't. w-wat-want. to. tell me. or...uh—um...talk? talk. just... ❞ she sighs and shakes her head. ❝ just. say that. ❞ he doesn't have to talk about every little thing. she just wishes he wouldn't shove her away so harshly.

she breathes deep as she tries to settle her nerves. ❝ tell me, ❞ she half-whispers. ❝ don't... ❞ she shrugs and looks away from him. she would rather he tell her plainly when she doesn't want her, when he doesn't want to answer, than to try to craft lies or remind her how little she matters. why is it no one ever realizes she would do anything if only they asked? she would have allowed tantalus to test her, cut into her and find out how she ticks. they could have asked. she wishes they would have simply asked before taking what's inside her. and matt...he could simply ask her to give him time and space she she would do it.

why does no one ask before resorting to cutting her? her jaw pulses and she pulls away, arms crossing over her chest like she could shield herself rom the metaphorical cold.

why do you feel the need to lie to me? (tweaked it a little to fit mags more but :)))) || @desafia

his throat feels tight, catching any answer before it can find his voice. he knows, to some degree, that lying to magnolia is futile. terrifyingly, he feels transparent before her. like his skin was transparent & she could peer between his ribs for the truth beneath... or maybe she pulls those truths from within herself. he denies them because they are too familiar, to real, too human.

it triggers an instinctive need to defy. to defy the pieces of him she knows, that she draws to close to, even as he ached for her to draw closer yet. it was a strange sort of sincerity, horribly raw. it was a dichotomy he didn't know how to balance & so he throws up his defenses. it is easier to hide behind half-truths & lies. he often felt he had to arm himself, to chase her away before she could recoil from the gore of his truth.

he had always denied his truths to the people around him, why should magnolia be any different? ( he shoves down the reasons that howl in the back of his mind, centering in on his righteous defense. ) internal consistency was something he had struggled with. not with his morals, but with the way he defined himself. was he a protector or a soldier? a hero or a shadow? was he the devil or was he just matt? he wonders sometimes if she knows, but it makes him ill to think to ask.

so he tucks any sentiments of self under his tongue so they couldn't leap from the tip of it. the beauty of keeping them there meant he could swallow them at any moment, tucked away until they crawled into his mouth again. his heart is loud in his own chest. to tell her any of this would be humiliating. so instead he sets his jaw in place, squares his shoulders.

" i don't owe anyone the truth, " he regrets the words soon as they come out, but that doesn't stop him. there is a high that comes with fighting against the things he aches for, for the people he's afraid to need. he aches to peel his armor from himself, to lay himself bare before her & god. but that would be too easy... to need someone was to lose them one day. he doubles down, " not even you. "

[desafia]

❛ that seems like a very low bar, ❜ magnolia signs. she almost laughs. there is nothing funny about it but she hardly thought her sentiments, her ideas and affections were of that much importance. samira is a beautiful soul. she deserves far more than she receives. magnolia has found that to be the case quite often. those who should have an abundance of kindness and generosity are usually the ones who do without.

❛ i don't know much about family, but i watch people. i have learned that sometimes that is what family is: loving each the memory of each other. loving just because the blood in your veins shares a few helixes. ❜

she half shrugs. most parents want what is best for their children, however what is best for them is not often what they envision. te child and the parent are bound to disagree. it seems almost as if it is natural, as if it is meant to be how their paths diverge—with derision, independence at the cost of a bond once thought unbreakable. she wishes she knew the shape and weight of that pain. it is a privilege to know it.

❛ he will be miserable soon enough, ❜ she promises with a small giggle. ❛ i mean it, though. you deserve to have good dates too. i don't...i don't really know anything about it. i've never done it before. but surely there are nice people out there who do know what to do. ❜

samira's expression twisted,  equal parts affection  &  exasperation,  as she dropped her face into her hands  &  groaned softly.  ❝why is that the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week  &  the most unhinged. ❞ her voice was muffled against her palms,  but fond — so fond it nearly cracked her chest open.  she peeked out between her fingers,  watching magnolia,   &  her smile was softer now.  tired.  grateful.  something steadier. 

her hands moved slowly,  more thoughtful than animated this time.  ❝i do love her. ❞ she signed it small.  quiet.  ❝but i think maybe i love the version of her i used to imagine — more than the one who exists now. ❞ she blinked fast  &  shook her head,  forcing herself to stay present,  grounded.  ❝she wants me to be safe.  married.  respected. ❞ her hands hovered,  uncertain.  ❝i want all those things too.  just … not like this. ❞

she gave a wry little grin,  signing with just enough dramatic flair to prove she was still herself beneath the ache.  ❝ &  if i have to sit through one more dinner where someone says ‘you’d be less intimidating if you smiled more, ’ i will become ungovernable. ❞ she pointed at mags with mock seriousness.  ❝let him piss himself.  let the sun eat him alive.  he wanted a strong woman? congratulations.  she hates him. ❞ 

[desafia]

@be1indas sent: “  why are you bleeding?  what happened?  ”

bleeding. magnolia blinks and looks down at herself, watches the crimson ruining her dress, looks at what stains her hands. yes, she is bleeding isn't she? she hadn't noticed. now that the other woman has pointed it out she can feel discomfort around her ribcage. ❛ it's okay, ❜ she is quick to sign. she ignores the pain which radiates in her side when her hands make each movement. ❛ one of those creatures took a swipe at me, but i made her sleep. ❜ it isn't a figure of speech. magnolia nods the other direction where a pile of strangely colored fur and large paws lays in a heap, slumbering peacefully as if it hadn't just attempted to devour her. space is strange, but a brain is a brain even when it's alien. she managed to find all the right threads to pull. how long it will last, however, she isn't certain.

❛ it's not her fault, ❜ she continues. ❛ she's scared and thinks we want to put her in a cage like those damn poachers. ❜ space is strange and so very much like earth. greedy souls want to take beautiful things and put a price tag on it. she wipes some of her own blood onto her skirt before thinking to ask ❛ are you okay? ❜

[desafia]

magnolia castillo edits  (  mutuals may reblog  ):

↳ i’m not a puzzle.  my pieces don’t fit back together.  there are parts i’ll never get back. 

[desafia]

why. the single word weighs far more than a whole paragraph heaped upon her ears ever could. she stands still and stares at him as she asks herself that same question. if he wants to leave she should allow him. she has no real reason except selfish ones. he got what he came for, didn't he? her eyes flicker down to the fabric crumpled between his fingertips. she presses her lips into a thin line and releases a huff of breath.

magnolia takes two steps forward and lifts her gaze back to his face. she wishes he would look at her. on an impulse she reaches up and lightly brushes her fingertips against his chin. she touches him gingerly, as if she is pressing the pad of her finger to a flame. she withdraws the contact almost as quickly as it was delivered.

❝ stay. ❞ she manages to get the word out then lifts her shoulders in a small shrug. her brows pinch together and magnolia clasps her hands, fidgeting with her fingers as she tries to find her voice, to find a way to make her mouth work for once. ❝ pl-please. ❞

she turns away and fetches paper from her art supplies. magnolia squats down beside her coffee-table, writing quickly. when she straightens back up she holds it out for him: i don't want you to forget me.

|   |   |   ‣   @desafia  ⤷   CONTINUED.

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭  𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧’𝐭  𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝  𝐭𝐨  𝐛𝐞  her  answer.  she  wasn’t  supposed  to  stop  him.  she  was  supposed  to  let  him  go  —  stand  there  in  silence,  eyes  steady  as  he  turned  the  handle  and  disappeared.  that  was  the  plan.  he’d  walk  away,  overthink  it  all  later,  and  never  come  back.  clean.  final.  easier.

but  she  said  no. 

he  could  still  leave.  god  knew  he  should.  he  could  pretend  her  kindness  was  nothing.  meant  nothing.  he  didn’t  deserve  it  anyway.  it  would  be  easy  to  dismiss  her.  safer  to  forget  her.  for  her  to  forget  him.

but  he  didn’t.  instead,  he  reached  out  and  took  the  cloth  from  her  hand.  his  fingers  brushed  hers,  barely,  before  curling  around  the  fabric.  he  stared  at  it  —  stained,  soft,  absurdly  gentle  in  his  grip  —  and  twisted  it  slowly  between  his  fingers  like  he  wasn’t  sure  what  to  do  with  something  so  clean.  he  didn’t  look  at  her.  ❝  why?  ❞

[desafia]

the way i wanna write spanish dialogue for mags sometimes but i am far less fluent than she is lmaooo

[desafia]

❝ i understand. ❞ her voice is soft when she speaks, a distinct quietude in her demeanor. when her heart still beat, when she still had skin and warmth and some semblance of life, all she could manage was to focus upon each second as it came. she tilts her head and allows her gaze to wash over him, unabashedly and unflinchingly. ❝ it's difficult to look ahead when the present is already heavy. ❞ she is quiet again for a few moments, glancing down at her hands. ❝ what is it right now? ❞ she asks. ❝ what has come for tonight to occupy your thoughts and make you look so tired? ❞

' i take things as they come ' there's a calmness to his voice, words melodic as tired eyes skirt her direction , ' there isn't any other way to think about my life ' direct, and clear to the point. starter | .@desafia

[desafia]

chipped nail polish reflects sunlight, gleaming and glinting as she stares down a tiny smear of charcoal on her pinky. there is a serenity to the day despite all that goes on inside the building. she has no desire to shatter the stillness. so she has remained just outside, watching as ambulances arrive and disappear round the back. she is glad, however, for company. she senses the pair as they approach and her head lifts, something lighter entering her eyes.

a smile curls itself across freckled features as the dog demandingly noses into her palm. she obliges without hesitation. magnolia sits forward and begins to scratch at his ears, smoothing over the coat at the back of his neck with her other hand. talos remains laid out at her feet, barely doing more to acknowledge than other canine than simply quirk his ears. ever a diligent worker. she almost laughs at the contrast of the lazy great dane sun bathing and the eager golden retriever nuzzling into her hands.

❛ they're beautiful, ❜ she manages to pull a hand away long enough to sign. the creature's eyes flick up from where it's head perches in her lap, watching the movement of her hands. it makes her giggle and she immediately pats honey again. she motions for her human friend to join them on the bench.

honey for mags / @desafia

isobel crossed the courtyard with slow,  intentional steps,  the leash loose in her hand as honey — the golden retriever — trotted alongside her with ears perked  &  tail in steady motion.  the morning was warm,   &  the hush of the hospital felt distant out here among the trees  &  brick paths.  she spotted mags on the bench near the fountain,  a quiet figure folded into herself just enough to make isobel's chest ache.  the bond between them had formed in pieces,  quiet exchanges  &  shared silences.  now,  isobel didn’t ask questions mags hadn’t already answered.  she simply brought the dog forward,  let honey take the lead. 

❝this one’s a professional, ❞ she said gently,  her voice almost lighter than the air.  ❝certified in unconditional affection  &  silent understanding. ❞ honey moved in close,  nudging her way under mags’s hand with an ease that didn’t ask for permission.  isobel watched for a moment,  then sank into the quiet beside them.

 ❝we’ve got a few more inside,  just for a couple days for now.  figured the hospital could use a little soulfulness that doesn’t come from a white coat. ❞ her gaze stayed on honey’s head resting now in mags’s lap.  ❝you don’t have to do anything special.  just … let yourself enjoy it.  that’s allowed too. ❞

[desafia]

the concern she feels has a touch of hypocrisy to it, she taste the bitter flavor upon her tongue as her eyes glance between freya and the wound. she would ignore it if were upon her own marred flesh. how often does she deny herself care? deny herself anything that is not vengeance and isolation and unending loneliness. ❛ are you sure? ❜ she signs. ❛ we can always take a break. i can clean it up for you before we keep going. ❜

used to working while being injured, but she doesn't love the feeling of stitches ripping open. and probably some bleeding. still, she doesn't stop in her tracks before magnolia steps in her way and pull her sleeve up. eyes shift over to her before down to the wound now on display and just as she assume, it's bleeding again. not as much however. tongue click against roof of her mouth, small shrug of shoulder. " i'll handle it later, "

[desafia]

long ago magnolia accepted her reality. the only to endure her captivity was to find peace and even know with half-freedom at her fingertips, she tries not to desire more than what is in front of her. kida speaks of what she thinks she deserves and it give her some pause. uncertainty stills the movement of her brush. she blinks at the canvas, then attempts to keep going with a silent nod of confirmation. she breathes in her aching loneliness. she exhales and whispers to herself its okay. it's meant to be this way. her attempt at settling her nerves and stuffing the chasm of want back into the hole she has buried it within is rendered futile when kida speaks again. the offer makes magnolia freeze entirely. she merely stares ahead again, eyes boring down into the glistening pigments gathered on her canvas. her eyes begin to mist over, glint as if they too have just been freshly painted and placed into her skull. she blinks rapidly, trying to reabsorb the moisture before it can escape.

❛ you want me here? ❜ she signs slowly, the shaft of her paintbrush hanging between her index and middle finger as if it were a blunt. it's too kind. too good. people don't offer that sort of kindness to her. not without wanting something but all she sees inside the other woman's head is sincere care and interest and that scares magnolia more than if she had had ulterior motives. her brows furrow and thinks maybe kida didn't understand the gravity of what she had shared. ❛ it's dangerous. i wasn't being poetic, there are very bad, powerful people who are looking for me. what if they find me here? they would hurt you. this place is too wonderful to let them find it. ❜ she can't let herself want it. yet she feels desire clawing its way out of her heart, scraping her lungs, filling her soul with all the blood she has every swallowed down. her eyes fill with tears again though she refuses to let them fall. ❛ you're too wonderful, kida. i want you to be safe. ❜

i'm alone. it is not a sentiment kida knows well, but one she aches to see @desafia express. so there is no one on the surface waiting for magnolia to return? what about her family? her friends? perhaps she does not have these things (a fact that kida does not judge in the slightest, of course; her concern is based in care, not frowning disapproval. "it saddens me to hear this. you deserve warmth, magnolia. you deserve a hug to greet you when you return to your home. but you are... alone?" she signs the word, too, if only to highlight how devastating it is to know this. frowning, the princess peers at magnolia's art for a minute, contemplating her options. "perhaps, instead, you could live in atlantis." her brows lift. "maybe instead of going home... you could remain here. be a part of our people. would this interest you?" she sets a hand on magnolia's shoulder, watching the woman's reaction, praying for a smile or excitement. no one should carry out their life in solitude — not if they desire community. atlantis could be that community for her, if she so wanted. "will you consider it?" kida asks. "for me?"

[desafia]

@centurie david sent: "there's only one way out."

she's forgotten how to be afraid. she is not brave either. magnolia is simply numb, desensitized from years of cruelty and pain and wishing for the freedom from it all which only seems to come in the form of release from this mortal coil...except, she is still breathing. she doesn't know why. it seems a punishment in and of itself to have survive all that has befallen her, much less to have even more to endure. this mess around them. there are new dangers she hardly understands. magnolia looks up at the android unflinchingly and inwardly wonders what his thoughts look like. she cannot see them. there is comfort in that, in almost feeling human. there is horror in it also. she does not like being unable to predict patterns or to prepare herself before cruelty comes. and it does always come, eventually. she lifts her chin. ❛ okay. ❜ she nods. there is a brief pause before her hands sign without wavering. ❛ what do you need me to do? ❜

[desafia]

mags should be getting kisses idk

[desafia]

a crease deepens between her brows. thorns twist into tangles around her ribcage until it squeezes her heart, pricks her very soul. she loathes when he is in pain. she hates even more how he refuses to acknowledge it or let her worry. perhaps she is hypocritical. there is much she refuses to let him see but she insists that it's different. it's different because he is precious. he's important. he helps people.

❛ you were treating it before you opened the door and then you covered it up with your robes. ❜ she's not supposed to do that. she is supposed to pretend she cannot see and understand what goes in other's heads. she can't always see clearly into his mind as easily as others. most of the time it's a subtle feeling. right now, however. it would be easy to guess even if she wasn't a telepath.

magnolia places a hand on his chest and gently urges him back into his room. ❛ let me see it. i'll help. ❜

obi-wan had felt her coming before she had entered the temple, which is perhaps a cause for concern; he should probably not be so attuned to her. the only other being he is so deeply connected to in the force is anakin, and he can often sense it when anakin arrives on-planet. that is another concern, another attachment, one that he does not permit himself to dwell on.

he can sense her ire, too, though he isn't sure what he's done to earn it this time. obi-wan had been carefully applying bacta to his chest and forearm when he had become aware of her approach. he has already seen a medic for it, in the sense that he had been hastily treated post-battle, but it is looking increasingly like he will have to visit the halls. as she arrives at the door, he stands, pulling his tunic and then his robes back into place, and waves a hand to open the door.

his brow furrows. " nothing bad, " he replies, though he has the feeling he knows just what she is talking about, and there is no point in trying to hide it, which is why the next words out of his mouth are, " there's no need to worry. i received some minor injuries in our recent engagement. that is likely what you're sensing. "

[desafia]

her pulse quickens with every brush of genevieve's lips, every word, every touch of her fingertips. she nods quickly. she wants to let the vampire in. she wants to allow her the intimacy which magnolia would deny anyone else. she doesn't fear for her the way she would for others. she thinks it could be safe to let her close. her shadows could not easily poison one as powerful as genevieve. at least, she hopes not. she feels too hungry and anxious for connection to let it deter her right now.

when her companion seeks further consent, seeks her to tell her plainly that she wants this, magnolia pulls back enough to meet her gaze. she lets her see her eyes. clear. unrestrained. the need and curiosity bleeds from her. there is not an ounce of uncertainty there. ❛ take it, ❜ she tells her. ❛ i can't promise it isn't a little bitter or rotten. i'm made of broken things and sorrow. but if you want it, you can have it. ❜ she leans up and kisses genevieve's cheek. and then her lips. she whispers against her mouth ❝ yours. ❞

the weight of her words hum in genevieve’s bones. it is not bravado. it is not naiveté. it is truth. magnolia’s eyes hold too much honesty for it to be anything else. genevieve doesn’t speak at first. she leans in closer, until the air between them shimmers with tension so fragile it could break. her fingertips ghost along the edge of magnolia’s jaw, achingly slow. there is hunger, yes — always, no matter how desperately genevieve pushes it down — but there is worship, too. an ache that has nothing to do with thirst and everything to do with recognition.

'yours?' genevieve murmurs lowly. she brushes her lips against the shell of magnolia’s ear, not quite a kiss, but close. her hand lingers on her throat, thumb pressing lightly where the pulse flutters; a silent question, a quiet begging for permission that magnolia has already willingly given. 'i have known desire that destroys, but what i feel for you . . . it is different. i do not want to hollow you out. i want to be let in,' genevieve’s fangs ache behind her lips, as she tries to hold herself back, placing a kiss just below magnolia’s jaw — soft, lingering. she first tastes the warmth of magnolia's skin without wounding it, but genevieve can't deny how decadant magnolia smells. 'if you give this to me, i will treasure it. as sustenance, yes, but also as an honor,' she waits for magnolia to tell her blatantly, with no sign of hesitation or regret.

[desafia]

❛ i have never been without grief, ❜ she tells her honestly. it is said simply, matter of fact. it is presented as an explanation for her contentment. ❛ at least this flavor of it comes without chains. ❜ she side steps and moves to walk upon a curb, staring down at the cement as she walks, one foot in front of the other, perfectly balanced. she wonders what it would be like to try it on a tall building. she is fairly indestructible now. the thrill of possibly losing her balance would be miles and not inches. broken bones would mend eventually. would it feel good when she falls? being weightless sounds relieving. magnolia blinks away the thought to focus on other vampire's words.

her expression grows somber again, glancing towards genevieve than looking away again. ❛ i don't think i'll ever grow into it, ❜ she admits. ❛ i don't think i'm...supposed to be stuffed inside this body forever. but i'm used to enduring. so i'll get used to this too. ❜ she swallows thickly. the caress to her hand is like a soothing balm, but it's not enough to completely dispel her discomfort. ❛ it's been a year i think. ❜ she says nothing else for several paces. the perturbing memory tries to claw its way free into her the front of her thoughts. ❛ i was in a bad place. for a very long time. and i killed someone who liked to hurt me. i think the blood must have drawn them in. i dunno. i don't really remember it very well. i just remember their mouth on my skin. it was so soft...i was happy. i was really happy then because i thought i could sleep forever. and then...i woke up with the taste of blood in my mouth. alone. ❜ she shrugs. ❛ they must have felt bad for killing me and thought this was a mercy. they didn't know better i guess. ❜

the quiet between them is not empty. genevieve has always known the language of silences, and the one magnolia offers is soft, heavy with meaning. her hand remains entwined with magnolia’s, and when she feels the touch of thought rather than gesture, her gaze drifts down toward the other woman with a soft expression. her smile is small but genuine, and she does not speak at first. she lets the thought settle in her chest , because genevieve understands. not just the words, but the ache beneath them. the way being unmoored can be its own kind of sanctuary. they walk a few more steps beneath the glow of the streetlights before genevieve speaks back to magnolia in her own mind. 'that freedom is real. but it is not without its grief,'

she turns her head, enough to meet those softly glowing eyes, and for a moment, the glow in her own matches with magnolia's as it pulses with emotion. 'i have been lost, too. though i have never felt truly free in it,' her fingers gently tighten back around magnolia’s, reassuring and steady. 'you do not need to enjoy it all. few rarely do, i have found,' genevieve continues, her voice lower now, rich as dusk. 'immortality isn’t something you wear like a dress. it’s something you endure. you grow into it. or it grows into you. but you remain your own, despite it all,' she lifts their joined hands and presses her lips, very softly, to the backs of magnolia’s knuckles. 'when were you made to be this way, mon cheri?' genevive had always carried this curse, since birth, and so she's never known anything different. but magnolia seems to miss many things about the before that genevieve would never have the words for.