#but at the end of they day? their hearts are still falliable

[tequiilasunriise]

Love, but in the sense that you’ve spent your whole (wretched) life trying to live up to your single-minded definition of hard cornered strength, where you have witnessed enough horrors to last a few lifetimes and the unwashable blood on your hands could drown an army, where there are infinite shadows lurking within you that could never be fully chartered but- and here’s the real kicker- despite all of these traumas and tangles wrapped within and around you, the one thing that finally breaks you, the one thing that renders years upon years upon years of built up tolerance suddenly meaningless….

“Goody warned that I was destined to be alone. Maybe it’s inevitable. But for the first time in my life, it doesn’t feel good.”

-Wednesday Addams, Netflix’s Wednesday

“One idiot with a sword and an asymmetrical smile had proved to be Harrow’s end.”

-Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Tamsyn Muir’s Harrow the Ninth

…is her not being by your side.

[bladeshowers]

💗 / Amara and void

Send ‘💗‘ to find out what my muse truly thinks & feels about yours!

Green hues settle fondly on the voidsents slumbering form. If he wasn't asleep, he was resting, and she didn't want to disturb him. As quietly as she could, she leaned over, pressing her lips to his head affectionately. The brunette rose from the bed, her silken crimson robe slipping over her shoulders. Her feet carried her over to her dresser slash desk where she settled. Normally it was where she took care of her hair and make-up on the rare occasions she wore it. Tonight was not one of those nights.

A small and controlled fire spell lit the candle on top. She bent low and opened one of the drawers. After a moment of digging, she procured a leather-bound book. Once it was laid flat, she opened it to a new page. Amara quickly glanced over her shoulder to ensure Ophiucus hadn't moved before her quill was dipped into ink and she began to write.

It’s odd how things can change from moment to moment. ‘Tis a rare occurrence for Ophiucus and I to quarrel with one another. I believe we know one another on a fundamentally unique level due to our pact-bond. Though that may also be my bias talking and desire to be special. Regardless, it finally happened. That frayed cord holding everything back finally snapped and I shouted that I loved him like a lunatic. He took it better than I expected. Perhaps because it is the truth. Perhaps because it only strengthens our connection. Maybe he returns my feelings in his own way. The distinction matters little in the end I suppose.

There are a few droplets of ink that spill as she sits back and pauses on what to write next.

I am glad that no one interfered before I finally let it slip. I could practically sense certain Scions getting frustrated with my lack of honesty regarding the situation. Their view of the world is entirely optimistic at times. Given my own experiences I had been trying to refrain. Half because I wasn’t sure what good it could do and I felt it was obvious.

I formed a crush on him after I summoned him. It wasn’t right away, obviously, even if I did consider him attractive. At that point I was concerned about my safety and kept my distance. Ophiucus isn’t easily dissuaded though. Being a very falliable woman I found him charming and attractive. After that it was just a matter of time. I was attached to him by the time we first slept together which only solidified my choice in him. I can’t quite figure out when I fell in love with him. Whether it was the first time he saved my life or much, much later, I cannot say.

All I know is that one day I woke up, gazed at his face with this stupid smile on mine, than promptly had a heart attack upon the realization that I couldn’t bear to be without him. At least things have worked out.

Amara doodles a few hearts on the page before she’s writing again.

He did warn me that to be with him is to allow the void into my heart. To become one in essence. I suppose it’s a good thing I’ve begun to chronicle my journey if that does happen. Ha ha.

She smiled wryly.

It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. After all, he’s spent so much time here on the Source with me, it’s only fair. Besides, wouldn’t I just… die anyways if I didn’t? The choice to either remain here on the Source for the rest of my days or eventually become corrupted and return to the void seems like an easy one. I would give him anything he asked of me (within reason) so this seems reasonable even if it does frighten me. I trust him to take care of me in that situation at least.

Not to mention it solves any questions about romantic partners from my family. Somehow I doubt introducing him to them would be a wise move. I suppose if he wants to meet them, he can, though I'd get nervous about him meeting my brother. Everyone else seems to prefer him to me. The last thing I want is for that to happen with Ophiucus too.

I still have trust issues when it comes to my family. I'm trying to work on it but I still prefer to keep my life as Warrior of Light away from my family. Though I prefer to keep most of my life from them as is. So far, so good on that front though. - A.S

With her thoughts and musings dedicated to paper, she placed the quill back in its well, journal away, and stood. Her arms stretched above her head before she returned to bed. Her body pressed in and snuggled against his.

[textsacc]

060320

"what are we?"  "we're lovers." "lovers."

"what are we?"

the moon sighed, pressing her lips close to her star's ear. she was careful, now, arms pinning her prey to the wall, but it was more for her to find her footing, standing still in the night sky.

this isnt natural, she thinks to herself. it was never really natural to find oneself stuck with another in a broom closet, of course, but her mind was focused on some detail else, other than their seven minutes in heaven. yozora recounts all the times she's done things like this -- her foot on her friend's back at the beach, her insistence on tormenting her friend with sick literature. she knew at first glance it was the thrill, the high of dominating someone better than her. but over time they both knew it was because of something else.

she blamed her star. greedy goody two shoes always wanted it, wanted more. she could tell, her friend's feelings unravelling at the seams every time she jabbed her finger against her chest tauntingly, and every time she shot her a cruel look out of nowhere. catch the moon leaning in too close just to whisper a devilish line of lust out of spite, or ushering her victim up to a corner, footsteps and argument behind her, in the name of aggression and control. 

sena always went up in flames.

they both knew. the relationship between them wasn't normal, by far. it was by a miracle yozora had considered themselves friends (to herself. she would never admit it out loud) and yet, the word didn't fit right.

"what are we?" an airy voice echoed back, paired with eyes searching in the darkness, looking for affirmation. in the inky blackness, the moon wondered if either of them could even make out the slivers of their outlines, the faint hues they could mark out as their uniform’s blazers. there was a pause in their whispers, the muted voice of their fellow club members muttering about their silence from the outside. if only they hadn’t always been so shoddy at drawing lots to begin with.

their friendship had been called into question the first and only time their lips met. yozora had objected, of course; kissing, in front of the children, in a church, when it wasn’t matrimony (and ignoring the dubious fact that she herself had hid that command in the corner of that tissue box in the first place). but the king's orders are absolute, a rule she enforced ever since the beginning of their game. and so for the first time ever, she found herself pinned down, on the receiving end of her own antics, mirroring her own frustration. 

and on the dealer's side, sena was waiting for her. 

desperately.

one kiss was all it took, but ask the moon. she'd recount it in great detail, as if taking careful records of the history of a fallen kingdom. how she leaned back against the wall as her friend drew in close to her, cornered, and how it felt suffocating and warm, and hot, when their chests met and their breaths mixed. she’d swallowed, trying again and again to come up with an excuse about why this couldn’t be done - and the moment she resigned herself to her fate, she closed her eyes, still trying to accept a mind turned blank when she needed the lies, needed her wit the most. how she wondered if her friend was a frequent user of lip gloss from the way she tasted; how she had five different reasons (all of them falliable) as to how the way the star held her face as she pulled the moon in close should be illegal. gentle, supple skin resting against her own, the delicacy of the action proving a lighthearted innocence behind it.

it sickened yozora. the weight of its meaning had only registered when she holed herself up in her room; how it had been her first time, and judging by sena's inexperience, it must've been hers too. she’d wanted to gag in the light of her club members’ discussion of it afterwards, even going so far as to cancel the rest of their activities later in the afternoon, post-poning her personal involvement in cleaning up their makeshift party. 

and in the solitude, she observed how her heart was beating fast again, thinking back to her moment of failure, and that soft and precious connection that somehow reassured her empty stutters fine. how she didn’t feel restrain on her throat any more when she was thinking about it, thinking about her. 

she thought of their kiss every night afterwards, looking and searching inwards, wondering how she could get those sensations back.

— so how she lead themselves locked up in this closet for their own sick purposes, she wouldn't know. something about fitting in with normies, probably. something about a party game that everyone was doing these days, perhaps. something about hearing about it on a message board, maybe. the club leader had forgotten that much.

once again, it was warm, sweltering. they were close enough that their breaths mixed, and it was dark enough to hide the secrets of their body language away from each other.

but they didn't need to hide anything. it was but their pretense. in truth, the moon understood that they both knew.

she bit her tongue, listening to the furling of fabric, and the hum of her star's musing. it was short, brief. sena’s answer came in a whisper, a trecherous secret for only the two of them to know.

"we're lovers."

yozora had wanted to sigh.

"lovers," she repeated, rolling the word about in her mouth. how her star had always managed to put the dots together, baring out her embarassment was beyond the moon's comprehension. but she took the answer in with honey and disdain. 

because her original plan — her grand scheme for herself and her childhood friend — had been foiled yet again.

but just this once, confession hidden in the bed of her tongue, yozora decided that she would let it continue to be ruined. for nature to run its course. for the undecided to occur.

(just so they could play this little game for longer.)

"lovers."