‎⠀

⠀⠀⠀   the scent, the sight of unseen things were turning her head, a light dizziness overtaking her balance, and it felt no better, the mixed mingle of the hay all around them, the firewood, and lucian’s own scent becoming too much, too thick to breathe through. the rush turned liquid, her mouth running dry, tongue heavy, and her throat felt very parched alas that; she croaked slightly, voice unsteady and frayed, fighting through the rising sickness, a faint tremor catching at her chest as if her body could not decide whether to shiver or burn.           “w—water, lucian.”

⠀⠀⠀    PERMISSIVE HEAT FROM THE FIRE WARMED HER BACK. SHE RECKONED,     turning her head as the bridge of her nose collided against his rough scruffy jaw, the scent of something dark of woods lingered. the incline of his fingers digging painfully in her sides made her breath draw faintly,           shallow and uneven, his grip having shifted⎯hands clamped firm around her arms, as if to keep her upright, or keep her from slipping entirely. he could scowl her all he wanted, for all she cared, even as poison veered through her blood with a powerful current, drawing ragged breaths from her, her pulse quickening in uneven bursts beneath her skin.          evelin was not lost, nearly not yet. she heard the chime of an anklet bracelet, almost caressingly, and another scent all too familiar. but she was between life and death, clinging to his chest, sweat gliding past her temples, a cold sheen despite the fire’s warmth, her weight threatening to give in his hold. neither a protest left her, mind connected elsewhere, a rampant torment of current seized her, and her stomach turned sharply, a wave of nausea rising without mercy, and she hiccuped, breath catching strangely, letting her head fall and nose bury in the crook of his neck, his grip tightening instinctively as she slackened.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ “everything to you is foolish, nay?”  drawing another faint breath, she shut her eyes tight and pressed her lips thinly, feeling the weakness take over, limbs growing heavier as if her strength were being drawn out of her. she went limp for a second,          her mind catching sight of crimson hair, blurred and uncertain, her vision beginning to swim at the edges, and she could neither tell lucian nor word it out, her arms barely held in place by his grasp alone.     

@dimicos   ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   
                 ‘  ˡᵃ ᵖʳᵉʸ
            
            ⠀ not  til’  the  poison   runs  its   course.   [ he  clicked  his  tongue,   holdin’   back   the  roll   of   his   eyes   by   sheer   will.   crickets   sang   low,   moonlight   lay   silver   over   the   stretch   of   green.   lucian   kept   her   by   the   arms,   grip   firm   and   steady.   the   fire   cackled   bright,   smoke   carryin’   the  bitter   tang   of   herbs   and   steeped   remedies.   he   set   himself   down   ‘gainst   the  log,   watchin’   her   without   so   much   as   a   blink. ]     eatin’   poison   berries   ain’t   a   sure   road   to   the   underworld,   lass.   [ he   let   out   a   slow   breath, ]     but   it   were   a   damn   foolish   thing   to   do.

;   @msngrd   ,    thanks  :D  !

 @skyrrs   ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   
             ‘  ˡᵃ ᵖʳᵉʸ
            
            ⠀⠀ [ HIS  HORSE  MOVED  UNDER  HIS  WEIGHT  WITH  HOOVES   GRITTING  ‘GAINST  DRY  BONE  AND   DIRT.   LUCIAN  GAVE  A  SMALL  INCLINE;   drawin’   his  breath  in  deep.   the  thunder   of   men   pressin’   hard   ahead   rose   with   spears,   with   savage   cries,   and  death   trailin’   close   behind.   to  the  common  eye   it  were   naught   but   ranks   of   iron   and   flesh,   yet   lucian   marked   what   stirred   beyond.   the   unseen   prince   rode   with   ‘em.   the   prince   of   persia.   and   he   felt   it   crawl   ‘long   his   skin   beneath   the  mail. ]      nikolas..    they’re   drawin’   near.      [ as  if   called   forth,   a   dark   rain   of   arrows   loosed   from   the  heavens.   he   did   not   quail,   nor   shrink,   but   set   his   frame   firm   in   the  saddle,   fingers   tight   upon   the  reins.   there   he   held,   breath   caught   and   ready,   awaitin’   the  word   of   his   commander,   blade   bared   in   his   left   hand. ]
            
            ;   gee  boy,  did   this  give   me  goosebumps.

/    my  favourite   human   being.   love   to   see   him   being   appreciated   the   way   he   deserves     ;-; 

@DEATHSKYN  ;;  work is of the essence and rn I am putting work-therapy to use hahahahahaha.

@DEATHSKYN  ;; I wish I could, but.. I an just as bad-

;    will   smooch    drop   for   everyone   in   return  !  

⠀⠀⠀    she ignored him, turned her shoulder as if he were nothing, and followed through the rest of the evening with practiced ease, laughter light where it needed to be, attention given where it was expected,          until time came to part ways, which in hindsight turned with her leaving with the gentleman, his hand guiding at the small of her back, and disappearing somewhere in the close vicinity of a room in the back of the bar, the noise thinning with each step. the door shut behind them with a muted click, dim light settling low across the space, thickened by the stale air, and evelin stilled for only a second, listening to the measured silence, because it was never just quiet,             not truly, there was always something beneath it. the gentleman spoke, something low, perhaps something of confident, but her focus had already shifted, mind threading elsewhere, pulling at what could not be seen rather than what stood before her. she stepped further in slow, letting him believe he led, that this was his doing, his pull, when in truth she had already weighed the room, along with everything else between them. her gaze didn’t turn, lest not fully, but it lingered just once toward the door,           as if something unseen pressed there, because if lucian followed, she would know, and if he didn’t, the silence would answer louder than he ever could.

⠀⠀⠀    it took far more coy of acts to pretend she wasn’t frustrated, or more so burning with such contempt; the edge of the cue stick would shake from the tremor of her hands, subtle, but there. the gentleman however, took it as a sign of her being nervous, and evelin played right into it, letting her shoulders soften just enough, her breath catching in a way that could be mistaken. she was compliant, eyeing the tattoo inked against the back of his right hand, committing its shape to memory, but the second she leaned in, her earpiece cackled and she swore she felt the air shift, like a presence cutting through the room before she even looked. evelin let out another nervous breath, stepping around the man, and letting her hand linger a little too long against his thick forearm, a touch that could pass as hesitation, or invitation. he wore a suit,          a damn expensive one for this town, where everybody was decent or wore normal attires, save it for hers, she favoured a sun faded dress, worn thin by the desert, clinging lightly with heat, the fabric shifting with each step against scuffed boots that carried dust as if it belonged to her. 
            
            ⠀⠀⠀AS IF PULLED BY THE CURRENT OF LUCIAN’S GAZE, SHE MET HIS SILVER EYES ACROSS THE POOL ROOM, and kept her expression unreadable, though her fingers tightened ever so slightly against the cue. tension coiled off him, his stance wide and threatening, the kind that didn’t need movement to promise something worse. she nearly cursed, rolling her eyes just enough to sell indifference, though it came a fraction too late.

@dimicos   ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀   
                 ‘  ˡᵃ ᵖʳᵉʸ
            
            ⠀ [ the  earpiece  cackled  with  her  voice.   sweet,   clean   cut   against   the   grain   of   his  southern  drawl.   lucian   set   his   jaw,   leanin’   low   over   the   felt.   fingers   cinched   ‘round   the  cue,   settin’   it   true   to  his  eye,   then   drawin’   back   slow   ‘fore   he   drove   it   forward,   the  white   ball   crackin’   sharp   ‘cross   the  table.   it   split   the   rack   clean,   echo   carryin’   through   the  room.   he   weren’t   watchin’   the  balls   no  more.   he   was   watchin’   her.   the   way   she   stood   close   with   that   man,   too   close,   set   a   tightness   in  him   he   didn’t   care   to   name.   he   eased   back,   chin   settlin’   atop   his   hands,   both   restin’   on   the  butt   of   the  cue.   eyes   half  lidded,   but   sharp   all   the   same.   he   paid   her   no   mind   outright,   but   he   knew   the  mark   she   hunted.   knew   it   by   trade,   by   instinct.   he   bore   the   same   sign,   only   carried   higher   than   most   folk   in   that   room   would   ever   reckon.   the   bar   stirred   thick   ‘round   him,   boots   draggin’,   low   talk,   glasses   knockin’   wood,   and   a   fiddle   cryin’   soft   in  the  back.   he   clicked   his   tongue,   voice   cuttin’   low   through   the  wire. ]    you’re   crowdin’   him   too   close.   step   off   a   pace,   or   you’ll   tip   your   hand   ‘fore   he   even   knows   he’s   been   found.