⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

/   OH LOL... THAT^   was  for  vhynz.  awkward

/   ykw...   give me something from before they were civil.  ; )

*      tense fosho 

@serphiente @hyrded 
            
            / nah , eats anyways <33

@taskdemo       &.        yeah, cae.     listen to what mimi said,      spare the kids their mother. 

*   @taskdemo， spare me.   i have a wife and kids. 

﹠ꥌ꯭ ⸙꯭꠩   [it takes a grand total of five seconds for the witch to heave a sigh that almost seemed to take all the energy out of him.  contradicting his lover's request,  he instead settles for wearing out their already ragged carpet,  leaving deep indents that speak volumes on his heavy stride.]   he seems to think,  [⸺there's a moment of struggling silence here.  the words feel almost stuck in his throat,  as if to say them out loud would cause some strange shift in the air around them.  in the wake of this,  he digs through the pockets of his coat and takes out a box of cigarettes.  his hands shake as he lights it,  highlighting his distressed state even further.]   that it is hilarious to tell half of the student body that we're related,  [in itself,  this was no problem.  in between taking a drag and fanning away the smoke that came with it,  he adds:]   and to tell the other half that we're weeks away from an engagement.   could you fathom the mere thought of it?(!)

⠀⠀  ♱̼ . ⠀     @beyondthestyx，     [too busy to speak for her lips were kissed against ceramic glass,   a teacup.    the sweet taste of vanilla and ginger coats her tongue with a coat of warmth,    it's aroma hugging her as if she was in her lover's arms.    it was how one was to past time within vast amount of loneliness.    so when the creek of the door tickled her ears,   following by the voice of her beloved.    her attention was immediately captured,    with the way vhynz spoke so freely...   she could tell────her presence was sought out,     and he knew exactly where she would be found.]       in what way do you speak?     figuratively?    ...     or literally,    perhaps?      then i'm afraid you mustn't speak those thoughts aloud.         [her transatlantic accent peaks for she finally speaks.     a hand stretches forth,       performing a waving motion;    a signal for him to come and sit next to her as she laid.]         what trouble has he gotten himself this time to leave you with such thoughts?      i hate to see your shoulders be so raised.
            
            *   it's soon going to be bunny a VHYNZ behind u!   <33

(...)   six feet under.   at the soonest moment possible.   now would be good,  actually.
            
            /    mama a BUNNY behind u!

his hand lingered, close but not touching, the distance between them smaller than a breath, the promise       of intrusion heavier than any contact could be. “but by all means,” he murmured, the words sliding through the air like smoke from a fire not yet extinguished, “refuse me. see where that leaves you when the last thread of your will unravels. because no matter what you do, it’s not my fate hanging in the balance. it’s yours.”      the silence that followed wasn’t empty—-it was suffocating, a presence in itself, heavier than the air had any right to be. yet in his eyes, unblinking and relentless, was the certainty of      someone who knew, without question, how the story would end.

rurik let her words hang in the air, their weight as inconsequential to him as ash scattered in the wind. his expression didn’t waver, not even at the shift in her tone, the faltering softness she tried to conceal. instead, he tilted his head ever so slightly, a motion that felt less like curiosity and more like the faintest shade of amusement.
                “refuse?” he echoed, his voice low, rough, and deliberate, each syllable dragging as though savoring the weight of the word. “you speak of refusal as though it’s a blade, something sharp enough to wound me. but let me teach you something, witch.” a faint laugh slipped      from him then, dry and humorless, more like the echo of ancient stone breaking beneath the force of something immeasurable. “you see, the thing about gifts? they’re worthless without power to hold them up. and power?” he leaned closer, the space between them dissolving into nothing, his presence folding over her like the slow crawl of a shadow consuming its prey. “power isn’t given. it’s taken.”      his voice dropped further, the sound more a vibration in the air than a noise, coiling tight like a serpent ready to strike. “you ask how i seal my fate if you refuse me?” he took a deliberate step forward, his gaze piercing hers, jade cutting through the dim light like shattered shards of glass. “but the question you should be asking is this—-     what happens to yours when i decide your refusal doesn’t matter?”
                there was no pause, no hesitation. his words pressed against the silence like the edge of a blade, his tone sharp and unforgiving. “your rejection isn’t power. it’s desperation wrapped in defiance, a desperate       attempt to feel in control. but control?” his lips quirked, not in a smile, but in the ghost of something crueler, darker. “that’s not something you ever had with me.”

⠀ ⠀     ⠀ ⠀      ♱̼ . ⠀     @hyrded，   [her gaze immediately falters.    her eyes that carry the colour of moonlight widened ever so slightly,    an expression of genuine surprise briefly paints  across her otherwise composed face.     it was a subtle,   almost imperceptible change,     because for the first time,   her smile faltered,    the weight of her disappointment settling like a shroud over the air.]             you...         refuse?        [her words were quiet,      yet they held a depth of hurt,     as though the rejection had not only touched her,        but had torn at something far deeper within her,     hidden beneath the surface of her being.]           you truly refuse——      how..           unfortunate,           [for a heartbeat,    she remained still for her gaze lingers on him.     there was a flicker of something───a realization.      he was...    different,    not like the others.     how was he different?    WHY was he different?   being unable to pinpoint answers  leaves disappointed to wash her face.   her eyes closed for a moment,     a long,    deliberate pause.    when they opened again, there was no longer a trace of the softness she had shown before.       the look she gave him now was sharp,       like the edge of a forgotten blade,      her voice laced with a cool,      unwavering finality.]              a gift freely given,    and you choose to reject it?        for what reason?      what a waste..      [her lips curled,     though the smile no longer held warmth——only the faintest trace of a sad,    resigned amusement of rejection.   a sigh would soon follow behind,    just as she begins to take her exit.      it was only a few steps,      just enough to create distance in between.    so she then halts,    no glance was spared,     her only desire was for him to carefully listen to her next words.]          i'm curious,     how does one seal their fate────if i were to refuse you too?    right here,    and right now.

what happens if one were to take those secrets away from you,        piece by piece,    ripping you apart..       until you are nothing more?         [her tone shifts to bear one that speaks with the innocence of  curiosity.]      so,    tell me this..       [her voice is brought to a whisper,     just audible enough to where he could hear her next words.]           and when the truth finally comes for you,    what will be left for you to hide behind?

⠀ ⠀      ♱̼ . ⠀     @hyrded，   [the arms of her breath made its way to wrap its fingers around her throat,   one by one until it was ready to latch on,   restricting her airway───briefly leaving her unable to speak.    it was a presence so close,    yet so far,    and it hung in the air like a promise,     a threat,     the barest whisper of contact that never came,    but it might as well have. her hand,    once laying steady,    now twitched,   the smallest of jerks;    a betrayal of her control,    for her composure snaps,    the fine line between power and surrender wavering in that very moment.   fingers clenched,   then relaxed,   only to clench again,   the fight between her control and presence of his.    the space where he could touch her if he wished.     it was the waiting,    the sheer,     endless anticipation of a contact she couldn't control,     of a connection she didn’t want,     but perhaps..      somehow,     needed.]        do you truly believe that you know me so well?    am i just another pawn that you wish to control?        [her voice wavers under him,     the fire raging beneath the surface.       there felt a sharp ache of vulnerability deep within.      she was being read like a book right in front of him.    every word that was spoken to her was truth,   but if a game was what he wished to play with her than a game she shall provide.]         and how about the ones you’ve buried so deep,   the ones that you can no longer feel?    the secrets you hide behind your arrogance and your cruelty.      [the space between them felt as though it were shrinking with each breath she took.    she bears the disadvantage,   and yet she has yet to falter.      it was still her words,    her power that was speaking to him.]        

⠀⠀⠀ rurik’s laughter broke through the silence, guttural and uneven, as though dragged from a place too deep for ordinary sound to reach. it didn’t mock, it unraveled. “secrets? ah, witch,” his voice slithered like smoke through a crumbling temple, hushed yet filling every crevice. “don’t mistake me for a man who trembles before the dark. i don’t chase secrets because i’m curious. i chase them to see how much they scream       before they bleed dry.”    a single step forward shifted the balance of power, his presence folding over hers like a stormcloud blotting the sun. the air thickened, pressing inward. “but you,” he said, the words soft, almost tender, like the calm before something catastrophic, “you think your darkness matters. as though you’ve cornered the market on sin, as if your cruelty were anything but common. do you know what the real secret is?” his lips quirked—-not a smile, but the echo of something sharper, meaner. “it’s that i’ve walked through worse. i’ve created worse.”      his eyes, jade and relentless, cutting through her like the aftermath of shattered glass, lingered for only a beat longer before he leaned in. the space between them became unbearable, collapsing into a silence so thick it seemed to have a sound of its own. “and still,”      he murmured, his voice lowering to a near growl, the sound of steel grinding       against stone, “i don’t want your secrets. i want the lie you tell yourself to keep them hidden. i want to see what breaks you first, the truth, or the telling of it.”        his hand hovered just above hers—-not touching, not needing to, the mere nearness more intrusive than any contact. “but by all means, offer me a price,” he continued, the edge of a chuckle beneath his words. “just remember,     it’s not payment i take. it’s collateral. and there’s no walking away from what i collect.”