leborne

⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀come closer, please. ⠀⠀⠀⠀ [⠀⠀⠀    ⠀and yet, this time, she drew back, as if—⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀] ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ no, no. please, don’t. ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ [⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ he moved closer, fighting the magnetic hold that kept him back, and he cried out, reaching for her hand. ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀]⠀⠀⠀    
            
            ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Father, please. ⠀⠀ [⠀⠀⠀    ⠀and that, that one minisucle second, the face changed to rurik’s, and his heart bellowed, forcing the strength out of him. wülfric collapsed to his knees, covering his eyes. the radiant shine from his father’s eyes nearly blinded him. and that gaze of love, it was as if he’d been there, inside him all along. hidden by the narrow rib of his soul, and that gaping awareness startled him from vast slumber. the darkness of the room, in contrast to that great white vastness, was imploding, and his vision blurred, chest heaving, heart palpitating. ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀]
            
            ⠀⠀⠀   poppy. ⠀⠀⠀[⠀⠀⠀    his coarse voice was thick with the muck of slumber and wakefulness. heady eyes travelled to his own hand gripping her wrist, and he pulled her toward him abruptly, pushing himself upright to sit and lean forward. ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀]

⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ ⠀ [⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ he was neither asleep nor asunder. the luscious weave of the winds coursed through his hair with a mint of breeze. it settled upon his lips, then traversed to his nose, leaving a trail of softness to his cheeks. suddenly then, a coolness of rain brushed against him. wülfric stood, staring upon the vast blue sky. he felt at home, comforted. but the face his mind searched, his soul had hungered for was nowhere to be found. he turned his head, as if reaching toward the coming breeze. he saw a silhouette of a shadow, and as it drew, it turned into a face he’d never imagined to see. ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀]
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    Poppy. ⠀⠀⠀⠀ [⠀⠀⠀    ⠀his lips moved on their own. there was something different about her, something divine. he couldn’t stop the stare of his gaze. ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀]
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ why are you here?⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ [⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ he didn’t want to see her. wülfric swallowed against the rising lump. his frustration was palpable in his fisted hand curling at his side. somehow, his head turned back to her, and she was closer now, yet still far. his gaze traced the contour of her visage, and the look in her earthy, brown eyes. he couldn’t see past it. she looked at him with love. and he didn’t understand why. yet, the closer she drew, the looming figure of her distinctive form grew and stretched without moving so much as a breath. ⠀⠀⠀  ⠀⠀]
            
            ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ why do you draw near? why? ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ [⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ the question left him with anger, and hurt he didn’t realize he’d unleashed, and something fumed red burst out of him as if given colour. again, his gaze turned to it, in horrid fascination, in grief and disgust. somehow, he understood what it was, and yet didn’t. but the moment he turned to look back at her, the ache of his grief was no longer there. he felt weightless, thoughtless, as if he didn’t belong in this realm. without realizing, he began to move toward her, his hands desperate to touch her face. ⠀⠀⠀    ⠀]

   ⠀ID:  ⟮ @lafaeys ⟯ 
            ⠀⠀⠀⠀┈┈┈─
            
            you’re cruel and cold when you’re outside, and yet under the veils of these rooms at night, you’re fevered with love and torment.     *the words escape her as she draws back, her fingertips lingering against his cheeks. she doesn’t realize her own cheek has been stained until she brushes it with her fingers and feels the warmth of her tears. the strain in his voice carries so much pain that, for a fleeting moment, she forgets herself completely. quickly, she wipes her face with the back of her hand before reaching for her notebook on the floor. she needs to leave. she needs to put as much distance between them as possible before he stirs, and she gives herself away. annette turns slowly, only to freeze where she stands.*

   you  refuse  to  accept  it.  that  is  not  wise—  turning  a  blind  eye  to  what  is  coming.  i  have  come  in  advance  to  give  you  time.  time  to  figure  out  where  to  go.  ⁽  she  leaves  the  room  and  he  is  left  standing  there  only  semi  awkwardly  until  she  returns  with  a  book.  a  book  that  looked  like  it  had  been  through  hell,  maybe  even  twice.  as  it  was  laid  out  he  flipped  open  the  cover  and  flipped  through  the  worn  pages  with  a  skillful  eye. despite  her  claims  that  he's  going  to  help  her  he  seems  fixated  on  this  book.  ⁾  where  did  you  get  this?  
            
            @leborne 

     ⠀ID:  ⟮ @featheredgrace ⟯ 
            ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀┈┈┈─
            
            *she isn’t sure what is wrong with him. cursed? afflicted? her eyes narrow, searching his face as though the answer might be written somewhere within it.*   then, i refuse to accept it.     *she mutters under her breath. if he cannot take it back, then she will simply make him find a way to reverse it, or better yet, uncover a loophole neither of them has considered. turning on her heel, she disappears into the next room without another word. moments later, she returns with an old, weathered book tucked beneath her arm. its pages are worn with age, filled with forgotten tales, relics, and writings she has never fully understood, as though they are meant for something far older than mankind.*    i’m assuming you’re not in a hurry to leave. because, if what you’re telling me is true, then you’re going to help me figure out how to reverse something that’s already been spoken into existence.

   ⁽  blue  hues  settle  on  annette,  she  got  close  enough  for  him  to  see  the  features  of  her  face  that  someone  would  miss  from  far  away.  it  wasn't  a  curse  he  didn't  speak  it  into  existence  he  hated  seeing  people  dropping  like  flies  when  it  was  apparently  gods  will.  no  he  was  sick  of  it.  ⁾  i cannot  take  it  back.  but  you  can  do  with  the  information  what  you  will.
            
            @leborne 

     ⠀ID:  ⟮ @-L0st_SaN1ty- ⟯ 
            ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀┈┈┈─
            
            ah, i’m sorry. i didn’t think you’d notice me. please, pardon my lack of manners.     *walking into the room, she lets her gaze wander briefly before finding an empty chair. she settles into it with quiet care, smoothing her hands over her lap for a moment.*    you play beautifully.. or is that too forward of me?

@ernergy 
            
            /  wow the demands- sure in like 50 business days -:)

^ u *

*  W i come back from camping i will reimburse i in rupees ! 

@engird 
            
            / right back at you my man ! 

&.      darn*

&.        gettin’ so dark obsessed over it. 

No.

   ⠀ID:  ⟮ @lafaeys ⟯ 
            ⠀⠀⠀⠀┈┈┈─
            
            *the stack of documents he hands to her draws a crease between her brows. he sits behind his mahogany desk, several more white folders spread across its polished surface. most of them, she doesn’t understand. perhaps she isn’t meant to. still, the lack of acknowledgment bruises her pride. poppy doesn’t mind, though. she is used to it [..] the silence. clearing her throat, she lets out a soft whistle to distract herself.*   what about miss milena? will she be returning to hackney with us?
            
            *she knows she shouldn’t have asked. it isn’t her business. but part of her has been dying to know. the thing is.. never mind. it is better not to pry at old wounds. her eyes wander to colonel wülfric’s hair, then to the broad span of his shoulders, and finally to his hands. a quiet, wistful sigh escapes her.*   colonel wülfric.. can i have the honour of da—   *she catches herself before the word leaves her tongue.*    being relieved from my duty on the sixth of march? we.. uh, have this charity event, and everyone will be there. i.. i don’t want to be..  
            
            *her voice trails away. poppy swallows. she isn’t afraid of him. that isn’t the problem. the trouble with feelings is that attachment rarely arrives with mercy, and almost never with relief. somewhere between the long hours of training, the endless drills, and the quiet moments she never speaks of, she has grown fond of him.*    forgive me, sir—