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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    you always loved the strange birds; adaline
    #11

    What they are is unspoken, but it’s painted there, in the spaces between their words.
    He doesn’t know how twins act but he wonders sometimes if it is like this – if all twins are born with such an integral need to slot themselves against each other, like puzzle pieces, like lips clamped tight.
    (Like lips, pressed in a kiss.)
    He wonders what happens, when other twins leave one another, depart for whatever reason. If there is always such an emptiness, a bone-deep ache, like some vital organ has walked away. It’s a need he didn’t realize until she returned, drew back the curtain. Until he heard her voice, like songbirds, like the sun, like a dozen lovely things.

    What they are is unspoken and he does not change this – he understands, in his way, that there is a certain wrongness at how he wants her – needs her – and that he cannot acknowledge it, that acknowledging it means drawing back another curtain, one he is not ready to touch.
    (Someday, perhaps, they – he – will be driven and be forced to confront it, the thing sitting shamelessly in his heart, but not today, he tells himself, not today.)
    “Promise,” he tells her, warmth radiating across his papery skin from where her lips meet.

    I need you, she says, ghosting upon things he thinks but does not say.
    (He will reply it, later, when she is gone again: I need you, I need you. He will replay the lips on his shoulder.)
    “Adaline,” he breathes, and in the breaths are the confession: I need you, too.

    contagion

    be careful making wishes in the dark



    (god they're such fucking saps)
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    #12


    — A D A L I N E —
    your mouth is poison; your mouth is wine
    (you think your dreams are the same as mine)




    The sound of his breathy voice stirs dusty emotions in her belly—emotions she tries so hard to keep clamped down. Emotions that are inherently wrong and yet as right as the sun; emotions that she could not deny if she wanted to. It warms her papery body from the inside out, and suddenly she cannot remember why she had been sad in the first place—her skin fragile where the tear on her cheek had dried.

    “Contagion,” she murmurs in response, and suddenly the nearness of him brightens her from the inside out. There is nothing wrong in the world—nothing that could possibly stop her from being happy in this moment. One day, she may look back on this and wonder at her sheer unwillingness to confront the desire stirring like a snake through her veins, but today was not that day. Today, she was happy to just be.

    She turns her pink eyes to catch his own gaze and her lips spread into a bright smile. “So are you going to take me to our new home?” she asks, and she cannot remember why she had ever been threatened by the faint idea of the wolf girl. What they were could not be broken by the world (perhaps the only thing about them that was unbreakable). What they were was as permanent as the waves hitting the shore.

    Indestructible love housed in the world’s most fragile shell.



    i knoooooow. they are the worst, but also the best.
    Reply
    #13

    It is their fate, perhaps to be damned – born of romantics of the worst kind (the dead risen and the dying, both heartsick, both fated for each other in the ways of poets, in the ways of love too-consuming to exist), of course such sludge exists in his veins.
    He never knew their parents but he knew of them, of how Tabytha walked out of the sea and then back into it while Garbage followed.
    (He knows how they sank, gave in. He saw that much, newborn and frail, pressed against Adaline.)

    “Yes,” he says, though he still feels dazed, filled with the words unspoken, and he wonders if he can even find his way back.
    (He’s aware, in some faint way, that bringing glass into the wolf-girl’s land could surely been foolhardy, but he, like his father, is blind to such things.)
    He walks, but does not lead – instead he stays beside her, almost touching. He can feel the heat radiating from her as they walk in silence, and in that silence he replays the words, the way she says his name.

    contagion

    be careful making wishes in the dark



    (so they can go in the falls and I think sin should post tyrna there too and she can wolf out on him because ANGST)
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