"mashunya, come and kiss me," she says with a soft smile, standing up. mary's heart leaps in her chest. she walks to sonya on trembling legs and kisses her.
anatole likes to be bruised, likes the bruises fedya leaves on him, even if they're hidden. his favorites are on his wrists, from fedya holding him down.
He fumbles in his bag for his key, opening the door as silently as he can on the off chance that Andrei is back already. The room is dark, but there's definitely someone in Andrei's bed. Andrei would be the obvious conclusion...but something's different. That lump is bigger than usual, the breathing not soft at all-- ...
She is like the stars. At least, that's what Sonya thinks, the first time she sees her.
"we're back, tasha," pierre says, almost apologetic, andrei trailing sheepishly behind him. "we missed you. we got worried." natasha smiles, reaching her arms toward her boys.
Dolokhov realizes that Anatole is like the sun. Bright, warm; but the sun can burn.
"oh no, no, no, this isn't it, i'm not a fucking bottom." anatole shakes his head and shies away from fedya's incoming lips. fedya snorts. "anatole, you're joking. you're like...the twinkest twink i've ever met."
"then why do you say you love me?" it only registers to dolokhov that he was the one who had said it when it's hanging in the air already, surrounded by silence. asking a question that he knows anatole doesn't have the answer to.
dolohov's restless. he supposes he's been restless his whole life. nothing can really change his nature; the way his piercing, blue eyes shift quickly, calculating and cold. anatole tries to break his shell, though he still hasn't managed. dolokhov intends for that to remain the case. he doesn't want someone like anat...
"fedya, i-i'm dying, aren't i?" anatole licks his lips. they're so dry, and cracked, and so, so pale. dolokhov tenses up.
