𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐔𝐒  —— 

     moved to    my 𝐨𝐜 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 multi .

hiya ,  i graduated and moved and summer came a little too quick.  but i think i’m ready to write comfortably without much strain, however there are are a few changes to note : 

with that feel free to unfollow /softblock if you don’t want to interact anymore. i will follow peeps on my multi linked above, but no hard feelings either way.  i’ll also be dm’ing people i owe starters for on my multi to make sure that y’all are still interested but otherwise ? 

𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐤​   ,

                      𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄     for ilias to even consider mending what’s already been lost.  in this solar system and the next.  here they sit  ,  great immortal beings who have died   thousands of deaths   who would willingly cling onto anything they can muster as a reason for prolonged life.  otherwise  ,  they’re bound to eternal solitude. there is no puzzle for them to solve and he is not some missing piece.  all the aching and the longing and the love  ;  it dissipates.   give it time and it will disappear  ,  everything does.          despite ira’s efforts  ,  all ilias manages to hear is that haunting persuasion.  the old prince mentions  aching  and  love  regardless of what the past decrees  ,  he reminds the retired viking that there’s a family regardless of his resistance  ,  and yet in all this —— there is no mention of   why  .

                     why the fuck was there a universe where a prince and a viking sit across from each other?  well — across but hardly facing each other because they can’t stand the sight of the other.  and they can’t stand the sight of each other because of a few reasons that are best left in the dust of the byzantine empire’s decline and the mediterranean sea spray.  some of it was jealousy  ,  some of it was principle  ,  most of it was bitterness because they were just too goddamn alike.  by being alike  ,  they saw how different they could be.  in some respect  ,  there could have been a universe where they could have been each other where the prince was the bitter old piece-of-shit and the viking was the bitter old, but very much in love, piece-of-shit.   

                                          but that universe sure isn’t this one.

                     ilias slowly began to move  ,  despite miska’s disgruntled protest  , he stood to his feet and his fingertips hovered over ira’s letter.  he waited a moment before finally picking up the paper with a newfound delicate touch for stone-pressed paper.  after running a fingertip along the refined edge , he moved towards the fireplace —— letter in one hand and his tin of handrolled cigarettes in the other.  standing in front of ira  ,  he made sure to derive enough eye contact to portray the most sincerity he’s ever presented to a lick of royalty in his dirty long-ass life.   “  you , of all people , should know for a fact that i want nothing more than to rot alone in my puddle of sopping pile of bitterness and bile.  and that most of what i say , is horseshit.  ”  

                     kneeling down,  he held two cigarettes to the fire and puffed on them both before holding one out to ira.  ilias took a long drag from his own and opened the letter once more  ,  the reflections of the flames flickered against ivory white and black ink.   “  i get that i’m causing some aching by keeping away  ,  but you have got to understand that my showing up for twenty minutes —— that , it won’t do anything on popped champagne and hugs.  so —  ”    ilias shook his head and tapped ashes into the fire and admired how beautiful ira’s signature was  —— yet how feeble his own name looked in the handwriting of the winchester wight.  

                     ilias smiled softly and ran his fingertips over the creases to refold the letter ,  he sighed and nodded once.  his free hand reached for a book that sat atop the mantel and nodded again.     “  yeah.  alright  ,  princess.  i’ll think about it and let you know two weeks prior to the date.   maybe two days  ,  or two hours.  ”   he opened the book and slid the letter between the end of chapter 4 and the beginning of chapter 5 , slid the book back onto its dusty spot on the mantel , and promptly turned around to roll down his sleeves and to slide his feet into his boots.  ilias reached for his coat and gloves ,     “  i can drive you back to port tomorrow morning.  i need the provisions anyway.  ”    ilias did not spare another glance at ira.  he wouldn’t be able to handle those eyes after promising that he’d consider a reunion after four centuries.     “  you’re free to use anything you find here  ,  i’ll pull out the cot for you tonight after i get more firewood.  if you sit on the floor for a few minutes ,  miska — she’ll warm up to you fast , uh —  ” 

                     he leaned over and reached for the throat of an old axe.  “  and ira —  ”  he looked over his shoulder for a moment.  the pause lasted a little longer than he wanted it to , so he opened the door.  “  —  thanks.  ”   he paused again  ,  unsure exactly what he was thanking him for.    “  never calling you brother-in-law  ,  though.   fuck that.   ”    and with that  ,  he walked into the tundra to chop wood for twenty minutes.   because that’s how long it took to wash out the fact that he just thanked prince iræ of wessex.   

𝐛𝐫𝐨þ𝐨𝐫​   ,

                    𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄.    severin couldn’t imagine anything going wrong  ,  but that’s what was happening.   ignorance was a beautiful and joyful bliss but ilias was choking on air  ,   caught dry in a sandstorm when severin was left to his own devices in a balmy paradise.    who was he to put a veil over it all?   ira used that word before  :  selfish  .  even now  ,  as ilias watched severin’s smile melt into a look of worry.  for once , it seemed that alcohol was on ilias’ side.  he was working with the haziness and a slowed heart rate to attempt to buy  him some more time to convince this man that it was simply delusional to believe in a peace offering.   this was not concession  ,  this was simply an act of cowardice.  apologies would get them nowhere  ,  it would simply tie a bow that would slowly loosen over the years only to be tied again and again until the ribbon wears thin.                        it was the lingering smile that made ilias freeze.  it was the same look  ,  the exact one that he woke up to one day in a cold sweat after seeing ira — clad in silver chain and iron armor , soiled with clay and blood like true royalty.  he could still see the way severin silently asked ilias if he could see him yet  ,  if the dreams began to speak and for weeks   ,  ilias  lied  until the dreams haunted him.  until ira’s face was laden into the back of ilias’ skull.  it was a gut reaction  ,  a selfish reaction ,  one that would spark a seemingly molecular reaction to serve him 400 years of exile.     all it took was a look to bring him into a mild panic.   this was temporary  ,  a moment for the sake of allowing severin to feel happiness for once despite all the things that went unsaid.   after all  ,  ilias was the failed attempt.   maria was a chance in the making  ,  she even got fides to dance.                      ilias winced at the memory of ira’s expression as he reluctantly handed over a curated invitation to a moment in paradise.   selfish  ,  the word sizzled and seethed because severin’s smile finally fell.   “  i  —  i know  ,  it’s not —  ”   ilias shook his head and mustered what little he could provide in reassurance.  “  no  ,  there’s no trouble.  ”       what keeps you from staying here?       ilias shook his head again , that was still a conversation nobody was ready to have.   “  i just can’t stay very long  ,   i —— i have people waiting for me.  back  home.  ”   if severin and ira found comfort in a veil  ,  then ilias would find his comfort in a lie. 

                     he put a palm out and pressed it against severin’s cheek  ,  gently in concession.  it was nice to know the warmth was still there.  even if it was clear that but the silence began to settle and his fingertips began to burn.  he resorted to moving his hand and firmly grasping the back of his brother’s neck in camaraderie  ,  from one wounded warrior to another.   “  i just wanted you to know that i’m happy for you  ,  really —  i am. ”    he shook his head one more time in quiet disbelief.  his hand fell to his pockets and ilias mustered a boyish shrug.   “  i’m sorry  ,  too.  “

                     ilias took a step back and met severin’s gaze once  ,  maybe twice but not in succession.  “  i couldn’t bring myself to send you a — uh , a postcard. like a promised.  i’m sorry.  ”

tagged by : @dadukos​

tagging : feel free to steal

»    @surdelafrontera​  𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩   :           [ DISCOVER ] — for receiver to find sender at the end of a trail of blood.  from pat!                via  injury memes  (  accepting  ) .

                     𝐍𝐎𝐖 ,  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒?   𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃.   granted it had been nearly a year since he last receieved a text from pat.   a simple sun emoji.  because  apparently  ,  he got a little too eager the last time he requested a meetup  ,  encrypted texts rendered themselves utterly useless when pat finally got a hold of him in a local holding cell in reno.  it was clear that the southwest didn’t like him very much ,  so her request for his services was a surprise.  but when he left new york and arrived in   sunrise manor ,  las vegas  ,  nevada   at exactly   5:55 AM   ,   she left him hanging.

                     that wasn’t like pat.  she had a way of taking larsson by surprise ,  sure.  but abdication?  that wasn’t an option.  and now , his watch read   9:02 AM  , still with no word from her.   with a crisp   CLICK   of cold metal  ,  larsson turned the corner and peered around the warm browns of earth and sun-kissed concrete.  scattered 9mm shells glinted in the morning sun and led him three blocks south.  no bodies  ,  only glock cartridges and shells.

                     before the blood ,  he saw a single gold earring —— smeared in red.  after wiping it clean with a balled up used kleenex from his pocket  ,  his careful steps hastened until he finally saw her  :  sat next to a dumpster with a hand-fashioned tourniquet around her leg.   “  so sorry i’m late ,  ”  well aware that his sarcasm was unnecessary ,  he tossed the earring onto the ground and turned to look over his shoulder  ,   “  wasn’t aware that i was being invited to a surprise party.  ”   he took a few steps back  ,  stepped over her legs and kneeled beside pat with his back facing the dumpster.   

                    larsson began to look over her for more wounds ,   “  you good?  ”

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓​  ,

                      𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐒.   but  ,  at least it worked.   getting a president to lose their security was like asking a turtle to lose its shell  ,  it was just against the laws of nature.  this was the main reason he hated playing with the government   :  the white house had tunnels with eyes and ears  ,  the tunnels leading to the tunnels to the white house had ears and teeth  ,   the roads leading to the tunnels that led to the tunnels to the white house were perfectly paved for the public.  it goes on  ,  and on  ,  and on.

                     larsson continued to complain to himself as he waited.  he waited to hear echoes of a door lock  ,  careful steps of a pair of flat colored high-heel pumps ,  and  —— the gasp.  his arms move quickly as he steps out of the shadows to twist her right arm behind her back  ,  whilst keeping his eye on her left.    “  i mean no disrespect  ,  ma’am.  ”  his voice came out hoarse  ,  something about the humid washington d.c. air never sat well with him.  “  but you’d be well-advised to do as i say  ,  answer a few questions  ,  then after that you can get back to doing ——   whatever  the fuck it is that presidents do.  ” 

                      he released her and pushed her forward  ,  only slightly to create space.  cold gun metal pressed against the small of his back as he crossed his arms.  she was shorter than she looked on television  ,  though it was a pleasant surprise that she didn’t drown herself in chanel no. 5.  the bitterness that settled on his tongue was mostly due to the fact that breaking into the wine cellar of the white house was not worth the result or the pay.  though  ,  perhaps this was about the most   exciting   thing that’s ever happened to president mellie grant.  it would only be a matter of time before he’d learn why the forty-fifth president of the united states was his next potential target.  poe usually gave him a rundown  ,  simple protocol before a mission about a target.  so that made it all a little difficult to determine what the mission actually was.

                     nonetheless  ,  larsson  then pointed at her jacket pocket and motioned to her hands.  with a tired sigh  ,  he nodded at her and kept his face hidden within the shadows.   “  drop the phone  ,  all jewelry  ,  hair pins  ,  belt  ,  and lose the shoes.  ”  he pulled out a box of cigarettes and stepped forward into the light  ,  blinking slowly like a cat that was beginning to lose interest.  he had three minutes and forty-three seconds  ,  at best. 

                    “  you smoke?  ”