#☽ ＼ ‘ i fight with you in my sleep … ( pt iii :: pardon || parole ) .

[midmare]

@quiiscnt ( olexa ) said: “ how does it - it work? ” she was staring heavily at the magic carpet. “ can anyone ri - ride it? ”

macbeth was seated center upon woven textile, ankles crossed, arms folded over their chest, as the enchanted carpet meandered forward at a languid pace, matching their companion’s stride. crimson eyes had remained alert so far, though the ever - persistent threat of succumbing to sleep hovered over the former dark mage like a puffy gray rain cloud, heavy with the promise of night terrors. blood - red gaze cut to the timid mage, swirling with curiosity. “ it’s a magic item, ” he replied, a teasing edge lurking beneath the crisp delivery, “ no. only i can ride it. ” the lie rolled off his tongue like a breath of air, believable in its utter lack of inflection or tell. he allowed the fib to linger in the air for a few, sublime moments, before his poker face dissolved & gave way to a devilish smirk. “ it uses some magic power to maneuver, that’s all, ” he explained honestly, not without a hint of mirth.

a pause, as macbeth mentally rewound the conversation. “ why? ” they pondered her interest in the magic carpet, their own guesses as to her reason forming in their mind. the reflector mage leaned forward, eyeing olexa out of the corner of his eye. “ do you want to? ” it was practically an offer, though a shadow of reluctance lingered in their stiff drawl. chewing on his bottom lip, macbeth awaited the other’s response with bated breath, a fog of unreasonable anxiety gathering inside his chest. “ it can hold two people, ” he added, almost like an afterthought, betraying his intent.

[midmare]

@quiiscnt ( olexa ) said: “ i like being alone but i’d rather be alone with you. ”

a curve of plum - stained lips, faint, too slight to be a smile ( it was rare to find him smiling in the absence of malice ) but humored nonetheless. trailing bottomless red eyes from wood - grain countertops to meet sky blue, macbeth regarded the other, a waggish glint in the slanted glance towards his company. “ i don’t think that’s how being alone works, ” drawling tone, dry with satire & sick with amusement. still — there was a whisper of fondness sequestered behind teasing mockery, quietly pleased by the affirmation. they could count their ‘friends’ on narrow fingers, nails painted black to match their heart. knowing he was rarely pleasant to be around didn’t change a thing about his uninviting personality ; he didn’t want more friends, because they didn’t want him, twisted on the outside, & incurably broken inside.

there was a pause, plum - lips pursued, the silence waiting patiently for macbeth to muster the resolve to say the rest of their piece. “ . . . but i agree. ” there was no expectation suffused in the space that stretched between the two, just snippets of traded quietude & idle dialogue. it was nice to be in the musician / mage’s company, with the repose of being alone without the encroaching desolation that came with utter solitude. “ i like my friends, but they can be . . . ” echoes of squabbling, whining, hollering & a general cacophony of people, “loud, ” he finished vaguely. crimson gaze shifted to the other’s left arm, lingering on the curve of her elbow thoughtfully. “ it’s nothing compared to yours, though. does it get tiring? ”

[midmare]

@quiiscnt ( olexa ) said: ❛ i heard you were feeling sick, so i made you some soup. ❜

muffled whines escaped from within a lump of downy bed - covers, myriad duvets & quilts rustling faintly as macbeth shuffled around, a tangle of raven - black hair strewn over the pillowcase. one baleful red eye cracked open, eyelids heavy with fatigue, pointing a weary stare at his visitor. “ uuunn . . . ” he mumbled, fingers clutching the hem of a woolen blanket, pulling the fabric around his shoulders as he reoriented himself to sit upright. “ you — ” cutting off, a ferocious cough ripped its way from his irritated throat, & macbeth folded over, fist raised to his mouth. chagrin gripped his addled mind, thin brows furrowed, pallid complexion coloring with shame. “ who told you . . . i’ll — cough — kill them, ” empty threat came out feeble, glint of vindictive intent lost in weary crimson eyes.

having succumbed to common illness was disgraceful, macbeth didn’t want people knowing about it, like some exhibition, gawking over the pathetic sight of him. shoulders hunched, lithe frame quivering violently with every congested rasp, they loathed feeling / being perceived as weak the same way they despised their demons. blood - red gaze unwittingly landed on the offering of soup, narrowed, scrutinizing the steamy broth, before he reached out & positioned the bowl in his lap. “ what kind of soup — cough — is this? ” fingers clasped around the handle of a spoon, macbeth stirred the bowl, eyes transfixed by bits of vegetable that bobbed in circles. 

tentatively, he raised a spoonful to pale lips. “ mmm . . . it tastes good. ” macbeth doesn’t allow ‘thank you’ to fall from their mouth ; hauteur & obstinance barred a display of such humility, but appreciation was veiled in the way he savored the soup.

[midmare]

new tags i.

☽ ＼ ( out of character ) .

☽ ＼ in character .

☽ ＼ ( memes || prompts ) .

☽ ＼ dash game .

☽ ＼ ( promotion ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ wicked and hellbent … ( study i :: headcanon ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ they call me an omen … ( study ii :: visage ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ madness calls to me at night … ( study iii :: musing ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ shadows on my wall don’t sleep … ( study iv :: aesthetic ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ save me your prayers … ( study v :: canon div ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ a villain in a black dress … ( study vi :: wardrobe ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ my nightmares sing me off to sleep … ( pt i :: oracion seis ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ i’m the one i fear the most … ( pt ii :: crime sorciere ) .

☽ ＼ ‘ i fight with you in my sleep … ( pt iii :: pardon || parole ) .