darker vibes

I FELL ONTO LOVE LIKE A SWORD

yves olade // ada limon // franz kafka // richard siken // x // richard siken // jessa crispin

— Arthur Miller, adapted from The Crucible

Monkshood flowers, also known as wolfsbane and common aconite

Monkshood, also known as wolfs-bane (Aconitum sp.), sways to the wind in a mountain meadow, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

© gif by riverwindphotography, July 2022

Denizens Of The Darkness

Watercolor On Black Paper

2022, 22"x 30"

Monkshood, Aconite, Aconitum

The flowers that Astrid brought were a marvel on their own. Rich pinks and oranges shine through their delicate floral skin like a sunrise. They contrasted deeply with Astrid’s appearance, though the deep red of the vase that secured them seemed to match her nails.

“I’m here for the same reason as always,” she bent forward a little, and her eyes grew serious. “To annoy you, primarily.” The seriousness waned, but there was still something about her presence here that was always a premonition of something. Hell, perhaps it was just bad luck—the consequence one acquires when they’re an heiress with no surviving relatives.

Modeoheim was being rebuilt, and she was a wealthy landowner with zero ties to anyone. An heiress to oil properties and the expansive, meticulously decorated Løvaas manor.

At that point, it would have been less suspicious if they knew she was a killer.

When he asks if he’s in danger, Astrid simply shrugs her shoulders. “No, not necessarily. But if that wine I ordered doesn’t arrive—” A wolfish glint seemed to enter her vision. “The courier may lose his job.” One of her hands reached out to grab one of the flowers from the vase—the smallest one, wilting already despite the others standing upright and perfect.

She couldn’t figure out why, but it seemed to bother her.

“I’m also married.” She pauses for a moment, and before she exhales, her eyes pan over to him, scanning his features for any reaction. “For two more months—that's… part of our agreement, he and I.”

Though she held it delicately, the flower in her grasp looked strained against her nails. “I just needed the name; we hardly meet because he’s said my presence is… deeply unnerving. There was no ceremony—we just wrote up a contract.”

Tossing the imperfect flower into the trash bin, Astrid slumped into a chair across from him. “I still have my property and the estate, and he lives a very cushy life away from me. It’s merciful—but only because it has to be.”

The wolfish look returned to her face.

“Only that reason.”

Rufus’s eyebrows rise even higher now. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting–well the cheeky ones were of the norm. Like himself, Astrid always held a bit of dry humor. 

“… Married?” He leans back with his fingers laced betwixt one another, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. “This isn’t the news I predicted to hear from you.” More or less, he couldn’t see it. Astrid was always that of a sprite. Though the semantics of it was more on the flavor that she often dowsed herself in. 

“So, what’s in a name?” A tilt of a head and a half-cocked smile, the leather creaks as he presses his back against it. He wondered if he knew this name that she wanted for her own. Was this the reason she dropped by after years of vanishing into the mists? “Had I known you were to be wed.. I would have arranged a nice Chianti." 

Despite the fire that was burning robustly in the hearth of the parlor room, he still felt the chill of the rain. Or was it Astrid’s presence in here that always created that rime?

Astrid seemed unsurprisingly resentful when describing her marriage, holding back from glowering when she mentioned it.

"For the moment, I am Astrid De Vriese."

She produced an ornately carved flask, inlaid with gems that matched her eyes. "A little harder than the Chianti, but I brought that here for you. I advise you only share it with me."

Inside, it was a deep, amber liquor. The sheen of it, however, was purplish---like a bruise. There was undoubtedly a poisonous compound added.

"Alexei and I meet twice a month. He isn't particularly unpleasant, but we do not get along by any natural means."

Some of her wished she laid low with her Glamour materia, but it would have cost her the manor and her properties. As the process strained almost every nerve, it would have shortened her lifespan.

"I have some personal history with him, too. About ten years ago, I killed his mother, as well as his aunt." her tone didn't shift; it remained unceremonious. Her eyes didn't move when she discussed it with him. "They weren't even targets---they just saw something they couldn't afford to see."

The Collective would have probably killed her if she refused.

"It's a matter I'd prefer to discuss with him after the annulment, but if he finds out, I can keep him under surveillance."

She adjusted her position in the chair, her absinthe-green gaze briefly clung to his damp hair, tracing the tiny beads of water as they fell. "The last time I saw you like this, you asked me to immunise you. I'd jump right back to that moment; given the circumstances, I'd probably be safer."

— Louise Glück, from Averno; “October” (via eveninglesbian)

To say he was surprised by her would be a lie. Astrid always managed to mingle into his life in some way or another when he least expected it. He related her to a wisp like a haunt that lingered around its familiar spots. “I don’t often get flowers these days.” They were only grown in the greenhouses of Midgar and for that rare occurrence, they were worth their weight in gil. He had noted her tone that the Turks were absent, an extension of his family that never gave her much of a chance to prove herself. Not when his blood had been tainted with the lifestyle she chose. He had tried to reason with them that it would make their job easier now; immune to poisons was a nifty perk to have.

“So…” he starts, shoes clicking against the floor and making his way to where a few towels were stashed for various purposes. “What has brought Astrid the Astral to my door once again?” A half-crooked smirk plays out before he brings a towel over his head, absorbing the rain pellets that were adamant with keeping to every fiber of his fair hair. A few sweeps were made of it at his shoulders before he placed himself in his leather chair.

Leaning over with his elbows upon the desk, he arches an eyebrow and lowers his voice. “Am I in danger?” A growing predicament that seemingly followed her. He’ll never forget the situations that were brought to his doorstep– or rather, podiums with life-threatening bullets zinging in his direction.

The flowers that Astrid brought were a marvel on their own. Rich pinks and oranges shine through their delicate floral skin like a sunrise. They contrasted deeply with Astrid's appearance, though the deep red of the vase that secured them seemed to match her nails.

"I'm here for the same reason as always," she bent forward a little, and her eyes grew serious. "To annoy you, primarily." The seriousness waned, but there was still something about her presence here that was always a premonition of something. Hell, perhaps it was just bad luck—the consequence one acquires when they're an heiress with no surviving relatives.

Modeoheim was being rebuilt, and she was a wealthy landowner with zero ties to anyone. An heiress to oil properties and the expansive, meticulously decorated Løvaas manor.

At that point, it would have been less suspicious if they knew she was a killer.

When he asks if he's in danger, Astrid simply shrugs her shoulders. "No, not necessarily. But if that wine I ordered doesn't arrive—" A wolfish glint seemed to enter her vision. "The courier may lose his job." One of her hands reached out to grab one of the flowers from the vase—the smallest one, wilting already despite the others standing upright and perfect.

She couldn't figure out why, but it seemed to bother her.

"I'm also married." She pauses for a moment, and before she exhales, her eyes pan over to him, scanning his features for any reaction. "For two more months—that's… part of our agreement, he and I."

Though she held it delicately, the flower in her grasp looked strained against her nails. "I just needed the name; we hardly meet because he's said my presence is… deeply unnerving. There was no ceremony---we just wrote up a contract."

Tossing the imperfect flower into the trash bin, Astrid slumped into a chair across from him. "I still have my property and the estate, and he lives a very cushy life away from me. It's merciful---but only because it has to be."

The wolfish look returned to her face.

"Only that reason."

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders [ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets [ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard ) [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair [ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where ) [ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body [ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand [ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what ) [ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what ) [ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood [ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill [ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try [ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal [ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ―  sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion

[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver [ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart [ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail ) [ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze [ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room [ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye [ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver [ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what ) [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc [ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what ) [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc ) [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep [ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc ) [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place [ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

[ 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇 ] ― sender puts a scented bath bomb into receiver’s bath [ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 ] ― sender lights a scented candle for receiver [ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender puts perfume / aftershave on receiver’s ( wrist / neck / cheek ) [ 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender inhales receiver’s scent [ 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 ] ― sender is drawn to the kitchen by receiver’s cooking [ 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 ] ― sender steals an item of receiver’s clothes because it smells like them [ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender notices receiver smells of their shampoo / shower gel [ 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender gives receiver flowers [ 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender helps clean receiver after a long day / stressful situation [ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver walk through the sewers to escape capture / avoid detection / chase someone [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender massages receiver with a scented oil

— there is no happily ever after for people who aren’t people | sharkodactyl (via sharkodactyl)

Marie couldn’t respond right away. She didn’t fight the way Astrid tidied her face and she didn’t beam at the compliments as she may have in the past. Her face was, in this very rare instance, almost entirely blank.

“Your plants are fine,” she whispered finally, standing and leaving the vanity, turning from Astrid, unable to look at her, “and selling off your wardrobe would negate laying low.”

True, she hadn’t sold them, but that didn’t mean there weren’t a few key pieces now tucked away in Marie’s own closet from nights that had been particularly difficult to bear, when a gown or a blouse was akin to a toddler’s security blanket.

Lifting her cocktail dress from where sh had laid it on her chaise, the blonde still refused to meet the eyes of her lover. Former lover? It was difficult to tell with Astrid. “I’m meeting a man tonight,” she said, a little bit of courage settling into her spine and shooting out of her words like ice, “and now I have half a mind never to return.”

“It is certainly a relief to know that I don’t need to go rifling around for my things.” She flashed a smile, but it wasn’t genuine. It dripped with something only two shades off from cruelty. “Especially when I was… certain something would go missing.” Her other hand reaches for Marie’s shoulder, which traces a small circle over her skin.

Something within Astrid’s gaze flickered like a lamplight, and it was older and more significant than jealousy, bordering the edge of contempt. It was a part of her that blackened at the mere thought of any competition—the very part she used to try and suffocate, only to find herself strangling anyone who dared lay claim to anything she deemed hers.

Marie was no exception.

It was nearly primal and even further from any tenderness she could ever manage. It tempted her to take out one of her knives and plant it deep into the blonde’s dress, to ruin it and prevent her from even thinking about wearing it again.

“A man?” Then, she lowered herself to Marie’s level, her eyes forming a penetrating gaze. “Even when I have eyes and ears everywhere?” the wolf within her beckoned and glowered, and she drew closer. “I’m like oxygen, Marie; I’m all over and inside everything. So meet your little man-friend. Feel free.”

Then, her hands release the blonde and return to her sides. Her parting was too swift, blunt, and bordered on a shove. “I’m going to get my things,” her gaze was away from Marie this time.

“I’ll even keep house for you—I know you’re coming back.”