#❰ Ⅻ ― in character. macbeth. ❱

[resolvebound]

💬 + Macbeth stole his carpet from a cave in a far away desert !!

Send 💬 + a rumor // accepting

"Actually, I killed a man for it."

And he would do it again.

[resolvebound]

this is my expression whenever my coworkers say something Stupid

[resolvebound]

Juvia is crouching, feeding the cats far too many treats, once again. And with Macbeth’s looming presence, she turns to him. “Do you want one too?” She gives the bag of cat treats a shake. It’s only a jest; after all, Macbeth is the honourary house-cat. / from juvia, disaster roommate ☺️

Ah, he’d been wondering where the cats had disappeared to. And there they were. Surrounding Juvia like she was some sort of cat magnet (holding onto treats did tend to have that effect after all).

The white Maine Coon (The Great Beast as he referred to her as, or Moon Moon as she was unfortunately, technically called) nudged her face against Juvia’s knee, while the small black cat, Onyx, balanced on hind legs to gently rest a paw on her and try to reach the bag of treats. The bribery was shameless.

He crossed his arms and watched in silent judgement, crimson eyes narrowing at her question, signalling his lack of amusement. Lucy and Juvia (along with the other visitors they had) tended to draw certain similarities between himself and the felines. He could see it, and didn’t mind it really, truth be told, but he couldn’t let them know that. Besides, he’d rather be known to them as something far more annoying.

“No,” he said, after a moment of deliberate, long silence.

With great and slow purpose, he unfolded his arms so that he could slip a hand into the back pocket of his pants. He withdrew a small bag that Juvia might just recognise as the chocolates she had brought earlier. “I’ve already got my own.” A smirk tugged lightly at the corner of his lips as he shook the bag at her.

[resolvebound]

[ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds / beth

[ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 ] -- 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔

A lull in the war. A brief respite between battles. A chance to regroup and tend to wounds. With everything that had been going on, he’d found himself separated from his usual comrades, a fact that unsettled him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps if he’d had one of them near, it could have been them that helped him now (or at the very least, their presence could have been reassuring), instead of the blonde Fairy.

Despite the urge to move away from her, he kept still, even preventing himself from showing distaste at her proximity (for truly, the injury was less uncomfortable to him than sharing his personal space). He kept wary crimson eyes on her as she worked, studying her face and own visible injuries. His gaze shifted to the wound on his arm, which held her attention currently, and he watched as she cleaned it.

Her ministrations were gentle, yet efficient, allowing him to hope the process would be finished soon. Perhaps once she was done, he would look for his guildmates and see how they had fared thus far. The trouble was, he didn’t know where to look.

For the first time since she had offered to help him, he spoke.

“Do you know where Sorano is? Or any of them?”

[resolvebound]

The silence continued to stretch out between them, making itself comfortable. This was all fine with Zilla, who was relaxed behind her owl mask. Macbeth was a former criminal but there were some of those in Raven Tail so she didn’t balk much at that. Or at all. Then, an idea popped into her head and she reached into her pockets for her pencil and sketchbook — she always kept them close within her jacket pocket. “Excuse me, Macbeth, but do you mind of I draw you? I wish to draw this moment.”

@shadowqueens

It was surprisingly rare, in his experience, to find someone that didn’t feel the need to fill silences, who didn’t make the air crackle with unspoken emotion, and who didn’t display loud body language or unnecessary movement. Zilla’s presence, he’d decided, was okay by him. She was quiet. Peaceful. In fact, neither of them had spoken a word in quite some time and it was hardly noticeable, certainly not uncomfortable.

He rested with his arms folded and his eyes closed, mind playing a familiar game of visualising his surroundings as he enjoyed the light breeze around them. Raven Tail. An interesting guild. While he wasn’t entirely sure why the council had placed him there for the time being, he found it made a rather nice change from the usual guild he was forced to integrate himself with, Sabertooth. He contemplated their differences, and the potential meanings behind his presence here now, but such thoughts paused as his current companion spoke up.

Draw him? He opened one eye in curiosity, noting the sketchbook and pencil in Zilla’s hands. He turned the request over in his mind for a moment as he closed his eye again, then gave a small nod in response. “You have to show me once it’s finished,” he stipulated. He had quite an interest in drawing too, after all.

[resolvebound]

💖 hugs for macbby boo✨

/ from seraphias

Send 💖 for my muse to give yours a hug (or yours to hug mine) // accepting

@seraphias

The scenario reminded him of past experiments he’d seen (and done), with watchful eyes observing the introduction of two creatures into the same environment. Except…in this case, it was himself and Sorano as the creatures, and the eyes watching them were not alight with some sort of scientific curiosity, but wariness. The council didn’t like any former members of Crime Sorciere reuniting after all, especially not those that had been part of the Oracion Seis. It had taken many months of ‘good behaviour’ to allow such a chance now. A fact which burned him in such a way that it threatened to reignite his old ways.

His hands slowly clenched at his sides as he waited in the room, the unfamiliar urge to pace bubbling within him. Movement then immediately drew his attention to across the room, crimson eyes focusing on the door that opened and the figures that entered. Accompanied by a pair of guards (who were frustratingly unnecessary, in his opinion, given the magical limiters in use), Sorano moved further into the room.

Something shifted in his chest at the sight of her. He stared intently, assessing any minute change in her, noting the length of her hair, and there was something different about her face, he thought, a touch of softness perhaps. Satisfied that not too much had changed, tension eased from his shoulders. His usually detached or uninterested expression altered with the rare hint of a smile, cool eyes warming enough to match the nature of their colour.

“Sorano…” Her name fell softly between them, yet held a measure of relief that was strong enough to be palpable to those who knew him well. And she knew him well indeed.

He didn’t need to step towards her, as she was already moving. Her arms came around his waist in but a moment, tight, secure, her head resting against his chest. There was no time lost before he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her, his head lowering to rest in the crook of her neck. A certain tightness settled within him, and he knew it was not due to the hug itself.

Almost in contradiction to such a feeling, and in contrast to his vice-like hold on her, a peculiar peace soothed the edges of his being, relaxing the coiled tension he held within himself. Soaking in such a feeling, in the familiarity of her warmth, her scent, her very presence, he was not inclined to release her anytime soon and would be reluctant to do so even if she let him go now.

He'd often heard it said that home could be a person, and he knew in that moment that it was true.

[resolvebound]

It was almost a shame (in his opinion) that their position and the darkness prevented her from seeing the amused triumph he felt at her frustrated whisper, and the way she once again admitted her opinion of her professor. Satisfaction was a slight smirk and a soft, smug sound. Truly, he did understand her need to correct the woman, so his agreement was a low, brief hum behind his lips. He then frowned at her sudden little movement, not entirely sure what she was up to with it. She was a strange one, that was for sure.

He unwound her hair from around his finger, only to twirl it around once more and repeat the process. Even if it wasn’t his own hair he was playing with, the action was still…relaxing. Had his other hand been free, he would have started to braid her hair.

Silence slipped between them for several long moments, and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, he rather hoped she hadn’t fallen asleep. Her giggles brought a small, reflexive smile to him, pleased for the time being that he wasn’t alone in the dark.  He rolled his eyes at her words, despite the fact she couldn’t see the expression, it was simply habit.

He found himself trying to imagine a younger Juvia, one trying to give gifts to the boys she liked. What was it she liked about them? He was mildly curious, yet the concept of someone openly showing their affections in such a way entered his mind and was too off putting for him to entertain for too long. His features scrunched slightly and he gave a low, unimpressed ‘hmm’ in response to the thought. Even the idea of giving gifts to friends was not one he could fully grasp.

Her reassurance that he would be receiving a box from her gave him pause. It wasn’t surprise at the implication that she considered them friends that halted him (because he wasn’t surprised), but more that he couldn’t quite decipher the emotions that sprung at her words. There was something uncomfortable about receiving gifts (he hadn’t exactly received many over his lifetime, perhaps that was it), but the thought that there would be a box specifically for him was…nice.

Discomfort caused him to shift slightly on the bed, instincts telling him to move yet also being wary of losing the warmth of his current position. In a sort of compromise, he rolled onto his back, arms encircling her to keep her close against his side.

He frowned, another thought poking at the edges of his mind, reluctantly (and pushed by curiosity) slipping through. “…does this mean I have to get something for you too?”

The frivolous rules of Love Day would never normally dictate to him, but he did so dislike feeling like he owed anyone anything, so if Juvia gifted him something…he would have to return the favour (but there was no rule saying he had to give her something she would actually like, right? If he instead gave her something he wanted…it could be a win-win situation for him).

Unpredictably, the familiar feeling of her hair being toyed with triggers a very specific type of relaxation. Frankly, one that she would never have imagined she could feel in the presence of Macbeth… But she’d been sharing a space with him for several months now. She was bound to grow accustomed to his company; to feel security in it. In short, what he was doing would surely lure her into the sleepy state she’d been in just minutes before.

But for now, she remains focused on the conversation.

A groan can be heard coming from Juvia, and she attempts to muffle the sound by completely burying her face against her bed-mate’s chest. “You heard me!” Juvia whisper-yells. And then a louder ‘ugh!’ when Macbeth inquires again. “She’s being kind of a bitch. It’s… I-I shouldn’t have corrected her, but… You understand why I felt it was necessary, right?” She asks, finally pulling back just enough to glance up at him - which she quickly regrets. Their faces are way too close, so Juvia tilts her head back down in one fast movement.

Still, she finds comfort in that Macbeth does not appear to be judging her. Perfectionism isn’t healthy - especially in an academic setting… But Juvia takes pride in few things - and one of those things is her academics, gods be damned!

She works hard and has put much effort into everything, and best of all: Juvia has work experience. Frankly, this whole semester has felt like a slap in the face - but she won’t get into that. Not tonight. It’s late, and they’re so warm and cozy.

Or, at least Juvia is.

At his question, she cannot help the tiny giggle that bubbles from her. She closes her eyes for a moment, and lays here - for a moment not saying anything. She’s getting far too comfortable now. An involuntary whimper later, she tilts her head up slightly again.

“I can practically hear the disgust in your voice,” she observes, and another giggle comes. “It isn’t an obsession. When I was younger, I’d use it as an excuse to show my affections to boys that I liked. Now that I’m older, it’s an excuse to make something nice for my friends.” She explains. Luckily, in all the years that she’d had terrible luck with dating, she had learned that it’s always best to be upfront about her feelings.

No sense in waiting for a designated celebration. 

“Don’t worry… You’re getting a box, too.”

[resolvebound]

" Your mannerisms make me think of something. " He pondered for a second, looking straight at Midnight. " A cat. You're like a cat. " A statement completely said out of the blue. // for Midnight : )

Crimson eyes flicked up, finding the speaker and awarding him with consideration of his words.

A cat?

He tilted his head slightly and turned the idea over in his mind. Cats were one of his preferred creatures. They were agile and nimble ( most of the time ), with the tendency to land on their feet, and they were independent. They tended to do things on their own terms and follow their own path. There were certainly worse things to be compared to.

It was curious...did he really come across like a cat? He mused about it as he sent a glass tumbling from the table with a deliberate ( but not malicious ) push, simply for the fun of it.

He let the silence sit for a moment before giving his response, words he never thought he'd ever direct at Jellal of all people.

"Thank you."

Even if the comment had not been a compliment, he would take it as such.

[resolvebound]

“123 movies got me again...” Lina sheepishly handed over her laptop. Maybe she should get a new one at this point (it was 8 years old now) but where would she be without walking into this shop every now and then with it? Other times she just visited with gifts. Speaking of! Lina went into her purse and pulled out some good ‘ol chocolate syrup. “And here is some tip!” Bright smile, Lina—bright smile. Maybe he won’t kill her.

He was going to kill her.

Well, that was until she pulled out the chocolate syrup anyway. She knew his weakness for chocolate, damn it.

He shifted his hold on the laptop in order to take the treat, a sigh heavy on his lips as he stared at her with narrowed eyes. How many times had he fixed her cursed laptop now? He’d lost count. Yes, it was his job and he was getting paid for it but, he certainly felt like he deserved a pay rise for dealing with this repeated ( and frustrating ) situation. They could call it the Lina Bonus™ or something.

“Evangeline.” He used her full name like a punishment and let the moment drag for an uncomfortably long time. Then, finally – “One day I’m not going to be able to fix this relic, you know.”

That day was far off, he knew, but she didn’t, and so he hoped she would at least make more of an effort to be careful.

"Do I need to permanently block you from accessing such sites?"

[resolvebound]

'so is this... natural?' sting proceeds to touch HIS hair. :)

Almost as instantly and seamlessly as his Reflector magic could knock away a magical attack, Macbeth knocked away Sting’s hand, the action accompanied by a glare and momentary snap and baring of teeth.

The discomfort and distaste for contact ran down his spine and spread across his skin, unsettling him as if he were a cat with its fur rubbed the wrong way. It took a moment for him to calm himself (sudden touch tended to cause a spike of murderous instincts), his body shifting back slightly and his eyes fixing warily on Sting.

“As natural as your stupidity.”

[resolvebound]

‘RISE & GRIND, SUNSHINE ! it’s time to go to work !’

Surprisingly, Macbeth had a few luxuries in life now, all thanks to the deal surrounding his pardon. The council-funded unit he lived in was one of those luxuries, though it was certainly nothing fancy, just a simple and tidy space containing the bare minimum. The bed within said unit was a comfort he enjoyed most however, and was where he was currently bundled in a half-asleep state.

The choice of who had access to the unit was a luxury he did not have, unfortunately.

Hence, the, now too familiar, voice of Sting Eucliffe came charging through the small area just a moment before the dragon slayer himself threw open the bedroom door.

Macbeth, barely visible beneath a pile of blankets, cracked an eye open to pin him with an irritated look. “You’re early.”

And full of far too much energy.

That would just have to change, now, wouldn’t it?

Knowing he would be dragged from the warmth of his bed in one way or another, Macbeth decided to leave it on his own terms. He tossed the blankets aside, eyes fixed on Sting all the while, and reluctantly got up. With sharp motions, he snatched clean clothes and began to get dressed, and whether Sting left or not made no difference to him. He had long decided he would not let the forced company have too much influence over him. Though, the influence over his morning routine and sleep seemed to be something he couldn’t yet prevent.

The urge for revenge burned softly in his chest as he moved with Sting through the apartment, mind churning. Ah. An idea.

It was true that Sting’s magic allowed him to easily sense and dispel illusions, however, that didn’t mean they weren’t at all effective, just that they wouldn’t work for long on him. Macbeth had learnt over his years as an illusion mage, that sometimes the smallest illusion worked the best, which was all the more useful due to the fact he could only access a fraction of his magic at the moment. But only a fraction was needed for some illusions.

Such as moving the appearance of objects over just enough to cause missteps and trouble in the attempt to avoid collisions.

Or making doors appear to be open, when in fact they were shut tight.

[resolvebound]

"Did you sleep okay, Midnight? You look like shit. Want me to fix your hair for you?" / she has chosen death

Sleep okay? He responded with a slight scoff and narrowed eyes at her comment and offer.  

“No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

It crossed his mind to remark upon her own appearance, just to rile her, but he dismissed it as too much effort for the moment.

Idly, he picked up the braid resting alongside his neck and brushed the end of it over his thumb. The thought of anyone getting near his hair would ordinarily have him filled with displeasure, but for the moment, considering it was Mary and she hadn’t outright invaded his space yet, he eyed her with curiosity and wariness instead of disgust.

It had been some time since he had allowed anyone to touch his hair, did he even remember what that was like?

“I suppose so...” he said after a moment, “But if I don’t like it, things won’t go well for you.”

[resolvebound]

–––– Continued @seraphias​

He was hardly one to be unsettled by darkness, he had far too much experience with it, and at times even found it comforting, and yet…the darkness of the cell was different. Colder. Harsher. A numbing pressure. It was the numbness he had fought most, with nails raking slowly along his arms. But even that had only worked for so long.

A quiet sigh and he thumped his head lightly against the wall, a touch of a smile finding his lips at the faint sound of his ( former, he supposed ) guildmate’s laugh. He had been right in thinking talking might be the best option, for them both it seemed.

His eyes shifted towards her cell as he heard her moving closer. Despite his, usually rather good, vision in such lighting, he had to concentrate to get a better idea of her position. Ah, she was close.

This was too familiar, wasn’t it, he thought. Darkness. Cells. Himself and Angel finding and reaching for each other to withstand the waves of life’s cruelties. In the seemingly never-ending night of their confines, he found himself needing that familiar anchor he found in her.

He shuffled slowly, cold stone seeming to cut his hands as he adjusted his weight with them and drew nearer the shared bars of their cells. Contact with others was not something he typically sought or enjoyed, and yet he raised a hand to find hers.

“…Your hands are cold,” he said ( a mild complaint ), as his way of telling her he would fulfil her request to keep talking. The cold was familiar too. How was it fair that they had escaped one hell only to land in another and then another? A moment passed, and he spoke again in promise, “This is not the end for us. We will get out of here…”

[resolvebound]

Now, that was better. Her gentle shifting of her legs lent them both a more comfortable position and let him once more shift his hand to a new task. It was of a certain…comfort habit to play with his hair whenever he was relaxing or thinking, but as it wouldn’t exactly be easy in the moment for him to reach his own locks, his hand moved slowly upwards to find hers.

Lean fingers brushing against the back of her head, he listened to her speak. Truthfully, he found it irritating to have to explain himself more than once too, so perhaps he could relate to the professor somewhat, if that had truly been the issue between her and Juvia…but, someone in a teaching position had a sort of duty to explain things repeatedly, did they not? Maybe the professor needed to be reminded of that…

His touch in her hair stilled as she adjusted her arm around him, her body pressing closer, an embrace. It was…strange, yet not unpleasant for the moment, so he made no fuss or movement to shift her arm away, instead resuming the idle trailing of his fingers down her hair as he continued to listen to her.

A small scoff of amusement sounded behind his lips. She corrected a professor? He would have liked to have seen that moment in action. In some ways, it had been a foolish move on her part, he knew people in authority tended not to take kindly to being corrected. But…there was nothing more annoying than unclear or false information when it came to education or knowledge, and sometimes the people in ‘authority’, who felt they knew best, needed to be put in place. He had to admit, he probably would have done the same thing as her (but likely, he knew, in a less polite way).

He curled a small section of her hair around one of his fingers, an eyebrow rising along with the upward quirk of his lips. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her swear before. “What was that?” he asked, despite the fact he’d heard her quite clearly. He gave a little tug on her hair. “She’s…what?”

His amusement at her flared again as she defended her work. Well, wasn’t she a confident one hmm? Yet, even a second (and third) opinion was apparently not even enough for her professor to reconsider her grade. Still…her pride was admirable, and even if there was no changing the current grade (though he did have some thoughts about how to…adjust it, but he doubted she would condone such behaviour), he was curious about her paper.

His mind almost began to wander, but the mention of chocolate (delicious) and Love Day (revolting) caught his attention. The only good thing about the ridiculous holiday was the sale of sweets. Although it was dark and she couldn’t see his face anyway, his disgusted expression was perhaps strong enough to be sensed regardless.

“No, I haven’t gotten into your chocolates.” Yet anyway. “What is the obsession with Love Day anyway? Why do you bother with it?”

If it hadn’t been for the gentle squeeze he gives to nudge her into a relaxed position, perhaps Juvia would have forgotten that the cold had already passed. So she relaxes in his hold instead - slowly stretching her legs out ( lest she let an involuntary gust sneak into the covers ), and soon after turning her head to the side, so that she may lay her head against his chest more comfortably.

He asks a loaded question then. Why, indeed. Juvia had had an inkling from a few months prior, but she had no real evidence. It’s possible that she was noticing patterns that had never existed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Well… For a while, I thought it was because I once asked her to explain the same concept twice. The first time, she had used some terminology that I wasn’t familiar with… I noticed that she become less willing to answer questions that I had after that.”

But it was hard to gauge, because Juvia seldom asks questions in the first place. She could not confidently suggest that that was the real reason.

Juvia sighs, shifting her arm so that she’s practically hugging him now. “More recently, though… I corrected her on a small detail during a lecture. But only because I was afraid that it might be on a test!” And Juvia can already predict mockery on Macbeth’s end - because in hindsight, correcting a professor ( one who teaches at a magic institution, no less ) is probably not… Wise? "Truthfully, she’s just sort of a… Bitch?" Juvia does not particularly like to curse about anyone, but it’s the truth.

She huffs at his offer. “W─my paper is fine, Macbeth! I had it checked over by another professor, and a TA…” But her words fall quiet when she realizes how egotistical she sounds. Macbeth is brilliant - she knows this for a fact, contrary to what the average person may assume of him. “… O-okay… Actually, yes. Please take a look. Not that it will change anything, my professor said this grade is final…” Juvia pouts, falling back into a short silence. “… But I’m glad you had a good day. You’d better not have gotten into my chocolate stash! I have Love Day’s treats to make.” She whispers hurriedly. 

[resolvebound]

Thankfully, the warmth they had lost during his movement was quick to begin regenerating again. It allowed for a slow relaxing of his grip on the blanket. A little wary though he was, of her potentially using the moment to take control of the cover, he let go and shifted his hand to rest against her back. Unlike her cruel feet, his hands were not cold (a benefit of being tucked beneath the blanket for some time). In an effort to get her to relax and stretch out in her position against him (as it wasn’t too comfortable having her knees digging into him), his hand slid to her lower back and applied light pressure.

For a moment, he thought she might have already fallen asleep. There was a strange relief as her voice slipped into the silence between them, but it was met by a frown. She had a bad day? The fact she admitted it to him was…interesting, and he found himself intrigued at what had gone wrong for her.

He adjusted his head on the pillow, body curling around her slightly as he tried to better catch her quiet words. Thoughts sparked in his mind, questions churning, burning on his lips, but above it all, he imagined paying a visit to her professor. Perhaps a little scare was what they needed in order to give Juvia the help and grade she deserved…

The offer was on the tip of his tongue, yet he could already imagine her advising him against it. A shame really, it had been far too long since he’d last truly scared someone.

“I think she’s just incompetent…why would you think she doesn’t like you?”

Maybe there was some sort of jealousy at play on the professor’s side, he wondered. Curiosity whispered that it might be fun to investigate what was going on there.

At her question, he cast his mind back over the events of his own day. He’d done some reading, studying, brought some more books, almost committed a murder, and played with the cats. The usual.

“Mine was fine…And tomorrow…I could look at your paper for you, if you want.”

Some might have mistaken his words as an offer of kindness (and maybe, in some small part of himself that he wasn’t aware of, it was), however it was predominantly his curious nature calling out. What had her paper been about? Was it really trivial? Could it be improved? He wanted to know.

Perhaps Macbeth had been rubbing off on Juvia a bit after all, because upon the swift movement from the other the minute he processed her cold feet against his warm skin... She was grinning. Deviously! To torment him a little more, she makes a second attempt to press her feet against him, but he’s quick.

“Mm-hmm! How does that feel, jerk?!” She’s not as quiet that time, and instinctively her hands come up to cover her own mouth. Hopefully she didn’t wake Lucy. And just a moment later, Juvia hugs herself and curls up into a little ball with a slight shiver when Macbeth lifts the covers off.

And she’s not sure if she’s fortunate for this, but as soon as she’s met with the warmth of his body, her fetal position is suddenly less tense - even as he locks her down with his leg over hers.

Foolish on her part, really. If she were clever enough, she would have beat him to it. But this is fine, she’s warm now, and if he’s done being obnoxious, then that’s even better!

Juvia tucks her arm underneath his, letting it hang loosely over his ribcage. 

In the quiet, she inhales deeply, and finally closes her eyes for the third time that night. 

Alas, after all that messing around, she finds that her eyelids are no longer as heavy.

Juvia only halfway opens her eyes before trying to look up at him. But she’s been pulled too close, and she simply cannot manage to tilt her head up.

“It was... Not good,” she admits. Usually, even if she’s had a terrible day, she will default to the common ‘ good, thank you ‘. But Juvia has time tonight. At least until she can find sleep again. Her voice is soft as she continues.

“I handed in a paper today. I spent two months writing it. My professor thought that what I researched was ‘ trivial ‘ and that I wasn’t connecting my points well enough. But that can’t be right. I excel at papers...” She realizes that she’s rambling too much. “I ask her questions to clarify, and she just doesn’t give me any helpful answers. I think she just doesn’t like me.” She scoffs.

A short pause. “How was yours?”

[resolvebound]

seraphias​: / sorano

the heat of his palm was a welcoming sensation. awakening nerves beneath her skin she thought long died. the feeling was comforting — like the satisfaction of holding your hands by a fire, after spending the afternoon rolling balls of snow. it was almost disturbing to now be reminded of such a fond time with her sister. how she thought those distant memories of iceberg abandoned her long ago.

like a gentle current, her mind drifts without pause. like faded photo strips illuminating under a flickering light. the images were grainy but still clear. how ironic it was to embrace such thoughts at rock bottom. macbeth’s hand in hers brought about more memories. these not so pleasant, yet still oddly comforting. his head upon her lap as she weaves her fingers through his hair, humming quietly in hopes that he could find slumber. tiny moments like that carried her through their time at the tower of heaven. it was only brought her solace to recall because despite the terror they faced, at least they were together. always and forever. 

she lets out a quiet chuckle, a tiny exhale of between cracked lips,   “ it’s funny. i’m looking to you for optimism. how the mighty have fallen. ”

sorano doesn’t release her hold of him. mouth trembling with uncertainty. how much longer were they to live like caged animals ? dancing around the very idea was crippling. her hand curls more tightly around his, fighting the urge to shed a tear. this was no time for that. sorano refused to break down when it wasn’t the end. she would not allow this to be the conclusion of their story. she edges forward, leaning her cheek to the bars. the chill of the iron like biting ice to her flesh. 

“ midnight ? ”  she says with a small voice, hiding the way it quakes with each word uttered.  “ tell me a story. ”

Yes, it was funny, he supposed, he’d always been a more pessimistic realistic type. “I won’t hold it against you,” he replied, amusement faint in his voice and along his lips.

Her hand, cold and small against his, seemed fragile, more like part of an ice sculpture than a flesh and blood human body. Nevertheless, he gave her hand a faint squeeze to remind her of her humanity. Slowly, as it seemed his limbs were impossibly heavy due to lack of energy, he raised his other hand, enveloping hers in both of his own. Ordinarily it was he who felt the cold most, he thought, and yet it seemed to be plaguing her the most in the moment ( though perhaps he was too numb by now to feel anything, let alone the chill ).

“A story?” His mind turned slowly at that, a low hum behind his lips. His magic might have dealt in illusions, in visual fiction and tricks, but he had always been one who preferred truth himself, the facts. “Alright…”

Retaining hold of her hand, he managed to shift himself a little closer, head resting a few bars away from her own. A story would certainly be a good distraction for them both. He might not have been able to see her all that clearly, but he was familiar with the nuances of her voice, and it was all he needed to tell him of her struggles. They had been together such a long time now, hadn’t they. Their lives seemed to go in circles, but he refused to believe they were doomed to be stuck in such a loop.

“There was once a girl…” he began softly, “She had a difficult life at a young age, hardships no child should face. She wanted to be free of it, she wanted a power to protect her and keep her safe from the evils around, to give her a peaceful life. Her prayers and strong will summoned a great angel to her…”

He gave another squeeze to her hand, one of his thumbs following the line of her own in a slow back and forth pace.

“The angel protected her, carried her away and shielded her for years, until one day…the angel was defeated. Without her protector, the girl felt alone…scared. But then she discovered how much she had learnt from the angel. Yes…The angel was gone, but the girl remained, and she was strong enough to fight for herself now…”