vasiliair

[vasiliair]

EVAN RODERICK as Justin in SPINNING OUT (2019)

[vasiliair]

dvndelicns​:

“ i bet you can’t do more than twenty. ” hannes answered bluntly, examing the éclairs. they looked delicious — and there was a lot of thm. “ i don’t have any money with me and i won’t be betting my trousers, not again. ” the fjerdan spy complemented, nodding in agreement at kostya’s words. “ the nobles invent so many useless things. i know people would be happy with just normal pears, but no, they needed to show they’re better than everyone else here. did you steal your mask as well ? mine i took from a guy who insist i’m not suited for the job. ”

“ i’ll take that bet——  hm.   okay..  well neither do i... lets just call it an i’ll owe you later when i eventually have money.   because as funny as i think that would be..   probably not the place to do it.   even with masks on.   i don’t need botkin nearly catching a glimpse of my ass again. ”   he laughs,  flushing red with embarrassment at the mention of the memory.   there was no tragedy at the loss of the nobles,  the death of royalty.   they sat upon golden thrones while their people died with little care to them.   any blade that fell their way was well deserved.   “ i swear i saw some fancy looking dessert that had gold on it.   who puts gold on food?   probably cost more to make them most people in the country will make in a year.   no wonder people say eat the rich.   — no but i did steal these robes.   which,  if i do say so myself:   i think i look incredible.   who was it?   we should..  leave a fish in his bed or something.   or we could dump wine on him!   c’mon,  it will be fun! ”

[vasiliair]

heartsck​:

“Based on the state of your pulse and balance you will survive waiting a bit longer for the wine,” there was an unnerving sweetness to her voice, as if she were a simple girl remarking on the beauty of the weather, not bloodstained and venomous. Daciana smiled when he laughed, more smug than anything else. Upon closer study she recognized the man as a fellow grisha, no one as important as her or her brother, but still she supposed must have some value for the general to keep him around. Or were they really that low on grisha power….?

“Shrimp puffs?” Her eyebrow arched, mind pushing away the unnerving thought of how few their numbers were. “Not only stupid, but reckless,” the heartrender muttered, spinning on of the thin rings around her finger that served as an amplifier. She looked back over at the other grisha, “Have you gotten your fill then?”

“ listen — i’ll be honest with you.   my goal is to get drunk and throw up on the prince.   why?   i think it would be funny.   so i absolutely think i need more wine. ”   he doesn’t care.   her voice is too sweet,  akin to a softened peach or rotted sugar.   whatever opinion she held meant little,  boredom dripping into his tone.   everything always came back to his own amusement,  or escaping.   being free of the second army and ravkan royalty,  and possibility getting revenge for being dragged into the shitstorm of the border wars and bullshit political drama that came with being seated in the capital.

he doesn’t recognize her;  which either means she’s a corporalki or a fabrikator.   but he can’t imagine a fabrikator bleeding that much confidence.   his eyes roll,  staring across the room in hope to find his partner in crime- with very little luck.   he sighs,  pinching the bridge of his nose,   “ this party is boring.   why would i willingly go to this snooze-fest when i could..   do literally anything else?   or are you so desperate to suck up to the king or the darkling that you pretend to enjoy this shit just to climb the ladder?   because this place is a fucking nightmare.   if i have to be here,  i intend to cause chaos.   feel free to join...   or i don’t know,  stalk the darkling or something. ”

[vasiliair]

babygirl you are unhinged like some sort of an object that can be taken off its hinges

[vasiliair]

sad😔 to say we have a new taken faceclaim😔 our ravkan king is now played by jeffrey preston bezos our real life overlord

[vasiliair]

crown prince erik sergei tanas christov lantsov,   painted circa 496 AF by a close friend during a trip to ketterdam. princess nashka olya durova klava lantsov,   painted circa 497 AF after her promotion to kapitan in the first army as a gift from her father and currently her official royal portrait. princess ludmilla viola miloslava lantsov,   painted by circa 498 AF by a zemi diplomat who she spent time with in os korvo.

[vasiliair]

“  — hey.   ivan.   how many eclairs do you think i can fit in my mouth? ”   neither of the men were meant for events such as this.   kostya was cut from the same cloth,  someone raised without luxury and used to the feeling of dirt under their nails and what it meant to survive.   not silk suits and parties,  not the formalities that came with such events.   “ seriously,  the food here is...   baffling.   poached pears?   who poaches a pear?   just eat the damn thing and get it over with. ”

@dvndelicns​   +   event starter.

[vasiliair]

heartsck​:

where: the ball, near the bar when: early in the evening who: open! @ravkastarters​

The grisha was far too sober for the number of people who were here, a point that became all the more clear as she recalled the number of grisha’s in the little palace and compared it with the crowd. Being told your whole life that you are only worth something if you are grisha will fuck up a kid, and while she’d never admit it, Daciana was far too uneasy by the inability to easily sort the guests into proper categories. This situation was veering dangerously close to feeling entirely out of her control, even though it was still early. And so, she did the only thing that helped in times like this - use her power.

The servant was unlucky enough to catch her attention, tray laden with empty glasses they were discreetly trying to remove from the ballroom - she wasn’t a monster, she’d never waste perfectly good drinks. With a sharp jab of her hand, Daciana caused the muscles in the servant’s right leg to suddenly tense which in turn sent the servant and their tray tumbling to the floor, the glasses shattering with a satisfying clatter. The heartrender smiled, and then realized she was no longer standing alone. Without quite removing the cruelty from her smile, Daciana turned her head to the newcomer.

“Your costume is incredible.”

“ hey!   he was meant to be grabbing me more wine. ”   it’s easy enough to catch the tell of the heartrender,  the way her wrist curled & a chain reaction began;  the glass breaking on the floor.   he felt a tad bad laughing,  but it wasn’t as if he’d never been the butt of the joke.   his eyebrows raised,  a touch of judgement in his tone.   this party was..  boring,  a nightmare.   he had never been one for crammed ballrooms,  for ridiculous dancing and bowing to your betters.   he was the child of the ocean,  meant to be wild and free.   not cooped up in a room with someone like this.

he laughs,  a scoff as he shakes his head,   “  — don’t flatter me.   i literally only showed up to see how many shrimp puffs i could eat.   seriously,  this party is stupid.   i only want free fancy people food.   i mean,  when else am i going to get white truffle?   the second army isn’t handing this out.   i came to eat like a king,  not look like one. ”

[vasiliair]

sodaparticles​:

CLOSED STARTER, @vasiliair​ *ELISAVETA* the masquerade

he was grateful that deception was the theme for the night. maybe he could convince himself that this was how things could be, if only just for a night. maybe he only needed one night; one night to get it out of his system. one night, then he could go back to being the stone cold soldier who didn’t think before being ruthless, the non-merciful bastard that follows orders and doesn’t go behind his general’s back and falls in love with his sister.

it took an embarrassingly long time for mikhailo to gather up enough courage to approach the woman he loved once he spotted her and was absolutely sure it was elisaveta. it was so much harder to escape from learned mindsets, especially when he’d been this way for as long as he could remember, and he knew he’d just have to go back to it tomorrow. he made a promise to himself though, that tonight he would forget everything and be happy. even if it was fake.

“excuse me, i don’t mean to be a bother,” he cleared his throat, standing behind vette and taking her attention away from whatever she was doing at that moment. be charming. he suddenly realized how hard it was to be charming. “i think there’s someone who would like to ask you for a dance, maybe you know him. about yay high, goes for women who are way out of his league. questionable choice in fashion when it’s not picked out for him. sound familiar?”

there was something magical about this.     she felt sea-tangled,  entangled and captured.   and she was forced to wonder,  what does the heart do?  what does it want?   and how far will you sacrifice to get it?   how much is your happiness worth?   but maybe that is the paradox of love.   the saints made her forsaken long ago and now,  she was to wander the earth as it was barren and parched.   alone,  or so she thought. 

there’s familiarity,  she knows him.   masks do not truly hide who you are.   they give you a façade for the night.   maybe just enough for her to pretend tonight that they’re different people,  that maybe they can be happy.   what are you willing to sacrifice to be happy with him?   but they both know the reality of this situation.   it’s one night,  a fantasy story to be told.   she liked the falsity of it.   

how did that old ravkan fairytale go?   he never let go of her hand, and whenever anyone else came and asked her to dance, he would say, ‘she is my dance partner.’   maybe the saints would tell her story one day.   “  — hm..   well i don’t know any men who have bad dress sense only one very handsome one so i suppose i’ll have to dance with you,  who is very much in my league. ”   she abandoned her glass on a nearby table,  taking a shy step closer to him,   “ have you danced much? ”

[vasiliair]

EAT THE RICH.     the clothing?  stolen.   the rings?  stolen.  the mask?  took him like twenty minutes to make.  the goal?  eat all the cheese at the party.

[vasiliair]

A DARK SUN.     the one known as a sunshine who layers herself in black and intricate flowers,  velvet embossed boots & a bronzed mask.   her usual black leather gloves swapped for thick mesh ones with pearls twisted in a bow around the wrist and her fingers layered in heavy rings.

[vasiliair]

A PATCHWORK FOR THE FABRIKATOR.     pieced together from materials from the workshop,  a gown of handpainted silk,  and a porcelain corset and gloves.   the mask dons itself to the peculiarities of the fabrikator herself,  slowly shifting in shape and patterns during the night. 

[vasiliair]

ravkahq     +     a guide to troubled birds.

[vasiliair]

ohsaiints​:

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐊𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑’𝐒  𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒  knitted  together  .  why  did  she  greet  him  as  so  ?  within  the  last  few  months  aleksander  had  not  come  to  his  sister  for  anything  other  than  to  ask  her  how  she  was  fairing  ,  and  if  anyone  was  being  rude  to  her  in  anyway  .  everyone  knew  what  happened  if  they  offended  or  hurt  his  sister  in  anyway  .  death  .  he  cleared  his  throat  .

“  visiting  you  is  always  a  good  visit  ,  ”  he  whispered  ,  a  small  smile  coming  to  his  lips  .  “  i  am  not  seen  you  elisaveta  .  i  thought  …  ”  he  trailed  off,  clearing  his  throat  once  more  as  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  .  

fear lives in her.   not inherently of her brother but of what grows,  deep and festering.   her hands twist,  a soft exhale leaving her lungs.   it feels like there is a thousand terrible things it could be,  a million terrifying things it could have been.   she steps to him,  wrapping herself around of him in an embrace.   “ —you wish.   i’m not that easy to get rid of. ”

“ it’s okay,  i’m okay.   i assume you’re okay too?   and irina? ”   her voice softens,  settling down within her own body.   a calmness overwhelming her;  the safety of her brothers arms.

[vasiliair]

sodaparticles​:

“you couldn’t hurt my feelings even if you tried,” he spoke so softly even ghosts wouldn’t have been able to hear him. there was no teasing tone to his voice, he spoke as if it were factual, proven with evidence. and it was true; even if she were to spit fire at him he would cherish every word, just because she would be in his presence. 

no amount of bracing could have prepared him for what it felt like when she was close. it was indescribable, something as simple as how she smelled like jasmine, innocent and flowery, was enough to make him want to pull her closer so the smell would never go away. how smooth her voice sounded, how each word she spoke sounded like they were meant for her to speak, no matter what it was, it made him want her to never stop talking.

he hated it. loathed himself for it, for those moments he wanted to say damn every consequence i might face, forget everything else, there’s only you. there’s only ever been you. falling for her took a courage that he didn’t possess, so he sat next to her with tensed limbs and let all the affirmations of love he wanted to profess die on his tongue as she healed his wounds.

mikhailo didn’t flinch anymore, certain that his biggest problem now was controlling himself around her. he slowed his heartbeat so she could not sense it beating erratically. he looked down at her, then watched as she healed the burns. “i think this would be more fun if you guessed.”

“ i could.   you have never seen me be cruel,  mik.   i chose the path of kindness,  i was not born into it. ”   i am cut from the same cloth as my brother.   i made myself like this.   but it echoes around the cavity of her chest,  the trust & sincerity.   how different to her self-perception.   the sister of a monster,  someone had called her once,  surely she can be no different.   ( &  — are you?   you are a corporalki before you are a healer.   you picked your path in the second army but before that:   you were a grisha,  colours didn’t matter and you survived in the dark for so long.   you command the body as much as another and you know the feeling of your hand around a heart and the wheeze of air from lungs.   you made yourself kind.   you were born cruel ). 

and maybe that was love.   choking sounds and silence.   their pain as consistent as it was deep.   her voice scrapes,  barren and empty.   the reminder of the child hiding in alleyways,  running from the world.   but she hasn’t been that child in a long time.   to think there would be a point in her life in which she was safe,  in a warm room & that her skin would be peached with love.   but she’s heartsick,  in love with someone who is just as forsaken as she is.   someone who she’s made a home in against all odds.   & so her fingers scrap against his skin,  biting down both her tongue & her heart. 

she acts as a vessel for kindness,  the draw of her skin over his & the deep knit of flesh —the terrifying reality of their closeness.   barely a breath away,  the shake of her fingers.   the pad of her thumb grazing the tendering skin,  breath catching & she holds it grateful that she can occupy her focus to his arm,  the idea of eye contact terrifying at best and mortifying at worst.   she draws it out,  her own actions nervous & the crushing realization that once she’s finished,  she’ll likely be banished from the room.

“ ——  hmmmm.   fighting a dragon?   are you to become the next sankt juris? ”   her voice draws to a playful laugh,  a slight shake to it.   but with you i am deeply passionately, unrequitedly in love—   and it catches inside of her,  rotting like something left behind.   as if you are to be loved back.   maybe you weren’t made to be loved.   certainly not by him.   and how desperate she is to be loved in return by someone who will never love you back.   “ or...   hunting the firebird?   i’ve always been a fan of that story. ”

[vasiliair]

I am too preoccupied with you, think too much about you.

Franz Kafka, from Letters To Felice (via violentwavesofemotion)

[vasiliair]

what do you mean Just Standing There Ominously doesn’t count as socializing