#But what melody will lead my lover from his bed? || Liam x Miranda ( archivalwrite )

[royalreef]

@archivalwrite || Continued from here

She stretched her hands outwards, gesturing again only once to call another serf over to her, and immediately they withdrew a cloth to begin to clean Miranda's claws for her. They tilted their head low, reverent, eyes cast down to their work, polishing each scale and working short, webbed digits around each pad on her palm. The otter didn't look up to Liam, switching instead between soap and wet cloth and another cloth and polish and finally a scented oil, content to keep work on attending to Miranda's hands, ensuring they were clean to perfection, instead of attempting to broach a conversation that they understood they were not a part of.

Miranda, who was still acting as though all of this was so mundane that she did not even have to pay it her full attention, something which Liam himself could attest to — looked down at the ground, less at the serf which was tending to her, and moreso like she was peering through them, looking at something which was not there simply to not look back at Liam.

"I mean — it would not be so hard, I do not think," she mouths the words down at the top of the serf's head. Maybe they are listening. Maybe they are not, because their ears are folded down, small as they are, nearly hidden beneath all the fur covering their body. Miranda certainly would not care either way, because this is not a secret she has to be wary of around her own staff.

This is not a secret either, but the aftertaste of secrets is still in her mouth, wrapped around her tongue, and she has yet to fully chew her way back out of it.

Would the serf even understand the profundity of the secret at hand either? Probably not. Things were different, when she broached the legal boundary between the Merkingdom and anything else left, and the space between Liam and Miranda and the serf was vast.

"It has only been... What, seven years since I first obtained a phone? And I do not truly use them when I return home either... Whoever else would I talk to if not you? It is not as though anyone else within the kingdom has any number I could collect."

[royalreef]

@archivalwrite || Continued from here.

"Dying is a privilege," Miranda says on near impulse, the first words to arrive in her mind and the only words to pass out through her lips. Silence settles after it, Miri still with her head to Liam's neck, not even sure herself why she's said it. It being her action makes it no more clear than if she was watching someone else, which is of a theme that Miranda cannot be surprised by anymore.

Taking stock of her own actions and words is not something she knows how to do. Sure, she was taught to think back over how she held herself, what she did, mark down these facts so that she could analyze them later, estimate how others would perceive her acting and how better to alter her next performance. But the deed itself remains inscrutable to her.

Why shouldn't it? No one ever did any good getting introspective. There were things to do, people to be, plans to place into motion. Navel-gazing was just going to waste valuable time needed elsewhere, on taking action and thinking ahead. The past was already done. Miranda moved without her fully willing it, and she spoke on command. That was all she really needed to do. Presence was its own merit. She was going to upset herself if she continued like this, and then the great joy of simply having things done for her by her would vanish. Then she'd start thinking of things, and feeling things, and keep going, and going, and going, and she knew what happened when she got too caught up in her own head.

Just stop it. Now.

Liam surely didn't care about all of four words, and why should Miranda? She said plenty of things all the time. These were whispered down into his neck, a non-starter, not even answering his question. Nothing worth saying was ever said in four words. She could have picked any that she knew in any language, arranged them how she wanted, and it wouldn't mean anything, so why should this? It was stupid. She was spiraling in this act alone, and she needed to stop.

Say something else. Move on already. She was making it weird, trying to make this into something else.

Against Liam's side, he would be able to feel the shift of her arms. Not much, no. They were still tucked beneath her own body, Miri resting the front of her chest up against them as another means of support, but she couldn't help but flex her hands, pushing her claws against her palms. Somewhere more distant still, the tip of her tail flicked, sweeping from side to side.

"I am just... thinking," she tries again, better this time. A better line for her to say, a better thing to speak into the silence, a better turn of the wheel. This means something, oh yes, something better and something right. This is what she meant to say, she's sure of it. "You know, to be... To be human, and then to not be human anymore. To belong to someone, and then to wake up the next day and to not belong to them anymore. And you have different needs than them, and you feel things differently than they do, and you think of things differently than they do, and you are hurt by things they do not and you have to continually worry of hurting them in ways you cannot intend... You knew how to exist, and then suddenly you are the odd one out who does not.

And you cannot make them understand, right? They would have to be vampires to understand, as you clearly did not just remain as they are with extra steps, you are something new, but... But you cannot bridge that gap? And you want to, you used to, but..."

Miranda shoved her tongue up against her front teeth, making a low hiss of frustration that filled an equivalent space to her body and then even more. An airy sound, one that seemed sourceless, but one which also reached down to the heart as if to shock it into motion.

"I am not making myself very clear, am I?"

[royalreef]

@archivalwrite inquired: An acquired taste - from liam ,, how does the purple man should taste Taste test - Accepting

" ......... This may be hypocritical of myself, knowing my hobbies and interests, and the fact that I have been known for vampiric cultivars among those in my line of work. And, indeed, I have a system for harvesting whole organs and skin and bones and the like from my sources, which I am quite proud of, and quite proud of my achievements in the area.

....... But I do not believe it would come as a shock if I were to say that the entire thing is more of a vanity project- a side hobby of mine, if it were.

The truth is, there is truly nothing you can do to the vampiric form in a culinary sense. They taste like... nothing. Not even the marine snow which gathers atop the uppermost layers of our capital city! Ashes, maybe, if I were to be generous. Disappointment, perhaps. Pomp and ego laid bare, if I were to be poetic about it. There's a distinct stench to the truly ancient to their meat as it is rendered, like... Like meat so old and so weathered and so tough that nothing would have ever touched it, and it was left in a wastebin at the end of the world, that it had ceased to be organic at all and truly should have been considered a chemical deterrent for large predators.

You might think you could render the ashes down into a marrow concoction, at least, but no! Not even that! It just leaves the marrow proper entirely inedible as it rapidly ceases to taste like anything other than fossilized broken dreams."

[royalreef]

@archivalwrite inquired: 👄 + liam Talk about them - Accepting

"Liam!!! My Liam!! Whatever is there to say about my Liam which I have not stated already?

He is wonderful, and delightful, and has so much to teach me about landfolk art! I take it the land is somewhat less concerned with artistic matters than my kingdom, judging by how others tend to react to his interest and monologues upon the subject... But it is such a fascinating subject of culture! Certainly the land does not lack art upon which Liam can speak, though it disregards any interest in such things. And it is rather different from my own people as well, even beyond the broader attitudes towards it! There is so much more focus in visual elements, far moreso than those of texture or of physicality!

Even moreso than that, my Liam is so sweet to me! He has such great concern in how I am behaving myself, and so deeply worried for my safety! Even when I myself could hardly see the reason for it, he is always so persistent in his fear whenever I faint from smoke inhalation, and so delightfully worried when soot-soaked mucus leaks out of my gills!

My Liam is so gentle with me, so deeply concerned for my wellbeing! He is one of the few to truly notice my differences... Which feels rather odd to say, considering how often others view me merely as something which they have never seen before, and possess specific ideas of what that means. But I mean far moreso... That he is more careful, yes, in registering that I cannot do all that which he can, and in taking note of such things! Of all the other assumptions others make, of my own body, very few seem to understand that it means that I cannot do all which they do too.

And he is so quick to take note that we do not share a cultural background! He shows such interest in my people, my culture, my kingdom! He is so quick to learn that what he is used to, I am not, and... Well, yes, I get the sense that it gets on his nerves sometimes. And, sometimes, yes, I do feel as though... Well, as though he tires of my lack of understanding, and... And that he sometimes, in noticing such things, is quick to misjudge me as ignorant or clueless, despite how vast the difference is or how I might be seeing some things for the first time...

But he is my Liam! And I do so adore my Liam!"

[royalreef]

@archivalwrite inquired: " it looks worse than it feels. " - also from liam [ from the blood, blood, gallons of the stuff ! prompts ]

She breathes in hard, nostrils flaring upon their perch at the top of her nose crest, nearly between her eyes. It's a break in a pattern, a sudden depth to what has been quick panting, her heartbeat up in her throat and sinking red hot lines into her esophagus. When she finally breathes out the words, they come out as a squeak, higher pitched than her normal canter, pupils blown wide to the far corners of her eyes.

"But it looks worse-!!!!"

None of this is intelligent, none of it is rational. Her hands lift up, fingers and thumbs curling in into hooks, then spreading wide again like she's trying to find something to grab, to hold, to grasp. Fins twitch and move rapidfire, tilting and turning, trying to find something to focus in on, trying to find something to follow, some more rational line of thought that she could trot along.

Miranda knows a few things about vampires and their anatomy. Of course she does, she's kept more than a few and has laid open more. But all of those lessons don't matter when it's Liam, when it's her Liam, when something has sunk in deep and looks worse and worse the more Miranda's eyes linger on it. This isn't sacred. None of it is something that should be damaging to Liam, not in the way of blessed waters or of wood splinters crossed over each other or of strongly fragrant flowers, but it's still bad, still something that would be mortal on her, living and breathing and bleeding as she is.

If she could, she could have laid out a vampire and pulled them apart down to their base components, then rearranged them back together, her favorite of puzzles to bide her time with. But all that memory now is useless, vacant to her, absent of thought and of experience, leaving her turning her head and looking around and trying to figure out what to do, where to move herself, what even she should do.

She's still breathing hard. Her mouth has opened and remains gaping open, all her teeth bared to the air, the heavy breathing making her tongue loll and roll in the bed of her lower jaw, occasionally brushing past the smallest two teeth at the front to flick the air. Her lips keep tensing, straightening, going taut, so that they slide upwards and reveal more of her upper set of matching fangs to the bottom, teeth that would be covered by her lips if only they were more relaxed. If Liam looks, he might be able to see the twitching of her jaw muscles, making her crown jump on her head, tensing and going tight like she's about to bite down on something. For all the jaw muscle she has, it's a terrifying thought to consider.