#The Hanged Man. 🖤 ~ Julian Devorak

[purest-dove]

Well, she didn’t quite expect that strong of a reaction to her question. Obviously anyone would be at least a little flustered by something like that (for very obvious reasons), but she didn’t expect his calm (albeit somber and sorrowful), dramatic demeanour to suddenly dwindle into a much more than flustered act, no more sturdy than her trying to keep herself from flushing brightly as well. As he hurries over to the bed, she wonders if it was the best idea to ask him to do it, since they’re basically strangers. But what’s she to do? Wake her five year old son and ask him to help his mother untie a very delicate piece of clothing? Of course not! She figures it’d be better to ask a doctor than anyone else, and she has no idea where Mazelinka scuttled off to. Off to another bed, she presumes. She turns toward the doctor, though she quickly rummages through one of the bags she brought, pulling out what appears to be a nightgown. It’s hard to tell what it looks like as she sets it down on the bed rather quickly before sitting next to him, keeping her front as turned away as physically possible.

Since the corset is under her dress, she (albeit hesitantly) pulls her sleeves down so she can pull the top of said dress down, though the corset seems oddly specifically shaped. Did she make it herself? It looks as though it was...admittedly the craftsmanship is impeccable, and it is rather pretty (it’s a rather nice baby blue colour with white laces and nearly-white pink accents (thankfully it covers her well in the front, else the doctor might explode from embarrassment), but as she moves her hair forward, it’s no more than a distraction for what’s behind her. Of course, the scars he had glimpses of from earlier are still there...but even more visible, though ages are greatly varied from up to a decade old to as recent as a couple of weeks prior. With how puffy and broken up they are, they’re clearly from whippings, and it seems her arms weren’t spared either. The backs of each of her arms are littered with scars that seem to have been continuations from more scars hidden in her back, though some cuts (not self-inflicted) had been made with a knife or dagger.

Recently.

Her neck and shoulders seem to flush a slightly darker pink while her ears, nose, and cheeks remain a deep red colour, embarrassment from both the awkward situation itself and the exposing of most of the marks that tell her history, she keeps her back turned to him as he undoes a couple of the laces. She’s a bit surprised as the weight behind her suddenly jumps away once the laces are undone, reaching back to make sure she can finish. She confirms it by doing just that, though before she slips anything off, she slips her nightgown on before proceeding with removing the remainder of her day dress and corset. Once she has her hair in order and her nightgown in place, she carefully folds the dress and sets it on the bags, letting out a shaky sigh as she does the same for the corset. Just like with the corset, it’s pretty obvious her nightgown is handmade, though...just how rich is her husband? Most of it is made of some kind of shimmery, sleek fabric (satin?), the sleeves long and flared at the edges, though from the elbows down it’s entirely see-through, lace decorating the edges, the sleeves long enough to reach past her small hands. From the knees down, it’s the same story, the see-through fabric flowing gracefully with her movements. The top is trimmed with lace, forming a sweetheart neckline while the line wraps around in a straight line around her back, covering most of her back while leaving her shoulders and a modest but noticeable part of her chest uncovered. She sits back down on the bed, unclasping the chain around her neck and taking it off before re-clasping it to make sure none of the rings or the cross pendant fall off before setting them down on the nightstand. She picks up the cup of tea again, quickly finishing it before putting it back down. She’s about to lie down when she hesitates, as if about to ask something, but she instead gets up one last time to reach into her bag again, quickly snatching something from it before hurrying under the covers, holding onto the object firmly. As much as she’d like to curl up with more than this, she knows she’d be asking far too much of the already flustered redhead if she asked him to curl up in bed with her so she can sleep easier. Still...he seems so eager to make her and her son more comfortable.

She opens her mouth to speak again, but she pauses mid-breath. No, that’s too much. She already feels undeserving of being here in the first place...she shouldn’t put him through anything more. She takes in a breath before speaking once more, pushing herself up a bit as she looks back toward Julian, her face, neck, ears, and a small part of the slopes of her shoulders remaining a bit flushed. “Th-thank you...I-I-I know I’ve already s-said it a million t-times, but...I-I don’t feel even a-a trillion times w-would express my gratitude. P-please...if you need a-anything of me, t-tell me so. I...I-I don’t know what, b-but...b-b-but I want to m-make this up to you, a-and Mazelinka, p-properly. So...i-if you have a r-request, tell me. A-and...” she trails off, her heart pounding as she pushes herself to continue, “...p-please...don’t try to f-fight him. I-I know you’re...p-probably furious with my...h-husband, but...I-I don’t want you t-to be hurt or e-even killed,” she quietly pleads, though she figures it’ll fall upon deaf ears, somehow.

As much as she’d like to, she resists the urge to again offer to let him curl up with her, figuring it’d be breaking some kind of boundary with him, instead laying down again as she holds the old, greyed stuffed dove close. The very first thing she ever received from her mother when she was born...one of only three items she’d be willing to fight tooth and nail to protect. She presses her chin against the beak of the handmade stuffed toy, closing her tired eyes as she lets out a small, relaxed sigh. Despite her usually having quite a bit of difficulty sleeping...she falls asleep rather quickly tonight.

Since Julian was taken by surprise, Angel nearly topples him over with her hug, but he stands up straight, balancing himself and taking the woman into his arms with a welcoming embrace. He even gives her a gentle squeeze before casting a small smile down at her; he knows she needs some sort of stability, and him being a little sad that she took her wounds back wasn’t going to give her that much. So he decides to let it go, and as she draws back, he nods slowly. Her question was simple: just help her untie the first few laces of her corset. Well, obviously she didn’t know much about Mr. Devorak. Just the question sends a feverish blush right up to his ears, but he chokes back a little chuckle, and agrees to help. 

“Yeah! U-Uh. Yes, love, I can help. Just the first few laces, right? I wouldn’t want you to sleep with that discomfort because I’m– well, I am a doctor. untying a corset is nothing.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more of that than anything else. 

The man tries to keep his cool as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside him so he wouldn’t have to lean down while standing. Once she’s close, he carefully undoes the first couple of laces of her corset, albeit very reluctantly and with a few deep breaths. God, he was so flustered. Once done, he’s quick to get up off the bed and up on his feet, turning away to face the wall so that Angel can do the rest. He gulps before speaking, but nods, bringing a hand up toward his face to nervously bite down on his knuckle. “A-Ah, yes ma’am, I can definitely sleep close by if you’d like. I’ll make sure you’re undisturbed to the best of my abilities. You have my word.”

[purest-dove]

I can feel it.

The second Pasha and Mazelinka are whisked away, the second the redness of the realm becomes present from the gorgeous blues, purples, greens, and yellows of the sea with the Devil pulling all of the strings, I feel myself grow significantly weaker just as suddenly as the neck snaps when the platform falls below one’s feet, leaving them at the mercy of the rope binding their neck. As soon as I feel my magic widdle away into nothing more than a speck of power, I let out a harsh gasp as I collapse, my brown bangs covering my face and blocking my sight of anything around me aside from the red of the ground and my hands, which turn just as pale as the burgundy-haired doctor, if not paler. I can see my veins...my illusion is broken. With my arts broken and my body weak, I can just barely hear Julian nearby, but his voice is muffled, to the point where I can hardly tell he’s even speaking at all. I try to make out the words, but my arms give way, my body collapsing to my right as my hair still covers my face.

I can’t move.

I pray to the gods that Julian can’t see my face or how my hands turned so pale, or how my scleras turn red as my blood, but I hear no answer. The only thing I hear is Julian’s muddled screaming and the roaring laughter of none other than The Devil. I feel chains wrap around my body, forcing me to sit up as white-hot, burning pains surge through me. I throw my head back as a scream rips through my throat and soul, a scream louder than I’ve ever uttered escaping into the void of red, the only thing I can hear clearly. My eyes are shut as tightly as they can be, my arms yanked behind my back as I continue to scream, and scream, and scream, even stopping for a short breath only to scream some more. I eventually cease, my head thrown forward as my wrists are bound with the same white-hot, red chains that burned so badly when I was forced to deal with Valdemar. Even then, their chains were nowhere near as painful as these. I can’t hear it anymore, but I feel another screech tear through my throat, like daggers slicing me open from the inside, though this one feels weaker and isn’t let out for nearly as long.

I feel a clawed hand grab at my chin as it forces me to look up, but I keep my eyes closed. Even if he can see how pale I am, I refuse to allow him to see me so weak. Another chain wraps around my neck, but no screams let out. My throat is too raw. I can’t scream anymore, but my eyes open again. My hair is still in my face as I see my vision fade in and out, pulsing every now and again. I can feel my eyes shift awkwardly with each fuzzy pulse in my vision, my mouth agape as I feel tears run down my face, though they feel like ice compared to the chains surrounding my body. My waist, my arms, my wrists, my neck, my chest...everything, it’s all bound. If I wanted to get up, I couldn’t even move my legs.

“How curious...so stubborn to protect a man you hardly know,” the Devil’s voice coos as I squeeze my eyes shut at the feeling of my bangs being moved. I hear a scoff, but nothing from Julian, at least until my hair is yanked on. I hear Julian gasp nearby, grunting, struggling.

“Let her go!!”

“Oh, but dear doctor...she’s keeping secrets. I’m only making an honest woman out of her,” the Devil says coolly, and I’m certain he’d be grinning if I could see him. I feel his clawed fingers force open one of my eyes, but I still try to keep my secret hidden. I try to speak, but my voice fails me now, my chest tightening with worry. I hear nothing from Julian, looking toward him as I give in, opening my other eye willingly. The look on his face...

Disappointment. Fear, worry...and disappointment. Perhaps not in me, but...himself. I squeeze my eyes shut once more and start to sob as the Devil releases me from his grasp, though the chains weigh down on me even more than they had before. I open my eyes once more to see Julian crying in front of me, my heart shattering to pieces. I sob uncontrollably as my head hangs in shame, but I can no longer utter a word, only feeble whimpers allowed to slip past my teeth and lips. I’ve lost...and now Julian’s last memory of me might be of me, sitting ahead of him, chained and bound like a prisoner, caught in a dreadful lie.

I thought it would be okay...

With a (likely) defeated look in my eyes and on my face, I grit my teeth, still sobbing uncontrollably as I face the man I’ve grown to love.

“I-I...I-I-I’m so sorry...I-Ilyushka...” I cry, one of the very scarce times I’ve referred to him by his name, at least...in front of others. “I-I’m sorry...I–”

“Yes, yes...we know you’re sorry. As well you should,” The Devil interrupts me (I didn’t expect him to, I thought he’d be better mannered than that, even for him ), the chains tightening their grip on me as I notice Julian’s just as tied down as I. I squeeze my eyes shut tight as to not see the look of sorrow in his eyes and on his face. I pray to the gods that he doesn’t hate me. I pray to the gods that he doesn’t despise me. I pray to the gods that maybe, just maybe, he’ll forgive me. But again, I feel and hear nothing.

I can’t even attempt to use any more magic...I’ve lost all willpower and strength to do anything now. I want to make it out alive with Julian, for us, for Skylar, for Mazelinka and Pasha, for Nadia, for Asra...but with my arts broken, my illusion gone, and my healing magic rendered useless at best...

...I’m dead on arrival.

[purest-dove]

A commission of the smug bastard himself and my marshmallow mom by the AMAZING @paperdrawsshit !! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

[purest-dove]

“ILYA!!”

The loud shriek of his name is unexpected, to say the least. As he stands at the centre of the colosseum, rope around his neck, threads of said rope cutting into his flesh and stinging his skin even though it’s not even tight, he looks around briefly. Not with his head, no...just his eye. His still white-sclera’d eye scans the area carefully, searching for the source of the sound. Then it hits him. He sees it. A flash.

A flash of yellow and brown slams against the bars of the entrance to the large open space of the colosseum, a tiny, freckle-covered hand reaching out as the owner of the hand shrieks in agony. Once bright, cheerful, beautiful hazel starburst eyes that he could find himself lost in have become glassy with a dull, sad look behind them, tears streaming from the ducts, running down her freckled face in rivers. No, waterfalls. Her soft, pink lips are parted as she shrieks, gripping at the bars so tightly with one hand that her knuckles turn white, her body pressing so firmly against them that she might as well be diced up from the pressure. An outstretched hand reaches toward the redhead as her frantic, maddening shrieks of sorrow and pain cut through the crowd. Her throat is bound to be raw at any point now...

Why did she come to this?

Pain fills his heart as he sees the pain inflicted on her because of his actions. But it’s too late now. A guard reaches for her, grabbing her arms tightly and trying to yank her back, but she keeps an iron grip on the bars, something the doctor never would’ve guessed she could do. She screams, raves, thrashes...she acts as though she’ll die if she’s forced to be apart from him for any longer. She looks like she’s shattered...her heart broken and mangled beyond repair, yet she still fights to keep her shot at safety and happiness from disappearing forever.

The last things that run through his head are the feeling of the board falling from under him, the feel and sound of the rope tightening suddenly and his neck snapping from the pressure...and the sound of the woman’s constant shrieking of his name, a wail so loud that it echoes even after the connection between his brain and his brain stem have been severed. What he doesn’t hear anymore is her cries, what he doesn’t see is her constant thrashing despite him being nothing more than a corpse hanging by a rope...but he knows what happened as soon as he’s taken to the realm. His plans fell into place...but at what cost now?

He’ll find some way back...he can’t let that poor, broken woman’s screaming be the last thing he hears.

[purest-dove]

x[[GODDAMN I’m a dipshit I forgot about this post oOPS-

idfk if this counts as a tango bUT CLOSE E-FUCKING-NOUGH]]

ilya rly wants to do a spicy tango with someone right now

[purest-dove]

x[[all of this is so goddamn accurate it hurts what the fuck]]

x[[Angel and Julian for the ship meme!! >:3c ]]

send me a ship and i’ll tell you who:

kills the spider:

Julian, but the whole time Angel is telling him how much he doesnt need to do that ilya please st-

proposed:

julian!! tol man is very softe for the lady

kissed the other first:

that might be Angel, actually!! Julian is terrible at reading peoples’ feelings or communicating in general, so he’d wait until she made the first move because then he would know for sure that she was comfortable with it

initiates things:

Julian, but it’s mostly teasing in passing, and then being like “:0!! oh! u!! actually wanna!!!”

would leave the other:

julian, but that’s because it’s canon. depending on the timeline, he’d either tell Angel that he wasn’t good enough for her, or fight his inner conflict and ask Angel to pleasepleaseplease give me the chance to show you i’m a good guy

is more jealous:

neither, i don’t think!! i feel like they’d both be confident enough in their relationship that they wouldn’t worry about it

is lazier:

julian smh

sends weird texts at 3 a.m.:

also julian, he sends dumb 3 a.m. thoughts like “what if mayonnaise was orange would u still eat it”

is more experienced:

i’m sorry angel, but that’s definitely julian too he’s a goddamn horny motherfucker

said I love you first:

both, at the same time uwu

[purest-dove]

Honestly, she hadn’t intended for it to happen. Not by any means...not by any stretch.

But with him venting so much, clearly distressed about so many things, just listening to his woes and pains broke her heart to hear. She happily let him rest his head in her lap while one of her hands gently pet his unruly burgundy hair while he vented and the other rested on her thigh, her soft, doelike hazel eyes staying on him the entire time. But as the complaints turned into seemingly endless compliments, the brunette couldn’t help but flush at them, her face and ears having turned bright red, her gaze shifting to the side every now and again, having trouble focusing on him anymore. She still couldn’t believe what she was hearing...he cared so deeply for her, as she did for him, they both seemed to appreciate one another’s company so much...it didn’t help that they both wore their hearts on their sleeves. She felt her brow furrow, and, without her realising it initially, her eyes closed, and as he sat up, she leaned in, pressing her soft, full lips against his rather thin but equally soft ones, her hand positioning itself to the back of his head, her fingers gently running through his untameable mess of curls.

Surprisingly, her lips were more pillowy than they looked, and carried the subtle but noticeable flavour of wild strawberries, her hold on him very gentle and comforting, in a way, despite the awkwardness of it from the position and timing. The kiss in of itself is rather short, but on her end, there’s a clear air of longing in it...it’s like she’s wanted to do that for a while. Once it’s broken, the red-faced brunette goes wide eyed with shock at her own action. She sits up, covering her mouth with her hand as she lets go of his head, blinking quickly as though she’s having a hard time believing what she herself had just done. In reality, she really is...she’s never been forward with anyone like that before, not even with Luke! She’s always been the deeply submissive one in pretty much every scenario...but something in her couldn’t help itself. For the entire time they’ve known one another, he’s done nothing but been the kindest person to her, he saved her and her son’s lives, he’s pretty much non-stop praised her, even in times where he’s vented, he’s listened to her woes and been a shoulder for her to cry on...he’s done so much for her, she just couldn’t help it. Still, that doesn’t tone down the level of embarrassment she feels, her wide eye very much telling of that.

Hell, even her neck has turned a bit pink over it!

“J-J...Julian, I...u-uhm...th...th-that was...o-oh my goodness, I...I-I-I’m sorry, I, uhm...” she stammers out, hardly able to form sentences. Despite her apology, she doesn’t regret it one bit, her hand eventually moving away from her mouth as she tries to speak again. “I-I...o-oh, I...I hope I-I-I didn’t...m-make you...uncomfortable with th-that, I...uhm...I...I-I-I have...no idea wh-what...came over m-me, I...uhm...” she fumbles, trying to form words in a cohesive manner, but she seems to be far too flustered to do so without breaking into a stuttering fit. She covers what can be seen of her face with her hand, the pink flushing from her neck spreading to her shoulders, the absolute entirety of her face bright red at this point, even up to her forehead! She never thought her own actions would cause her to become so flustered that she’d be speechless...

A flustered whine is uttered, though muffled, as she tries to speak once more. “I-it was just...s...s-so tempting, and...I...I-I-I...couldn’t...couldn’t help it...” she squeaks softly, though, again, her voice is muffled, both of her hands moving up to cover her face, her eyes squeezed shut.

😍 – a first kiss [[ purest-dove ]] (*-intense eyebrate-*)

@purest-dove

Julian should have expected this, really.

After a long night of venting some frustrations with life and crying over a glass of wine at dinner, it was no surprise that the redhead finds himself draped across Angel’s lap, murmuring stupid, idle worries and trying not to act overdramatic. Really, he felt bad for the woman, because he felt he talked her ear off all the time, and whined far too much. He genuinely appreciated her company, her listening ear, and– 

It was soon after he started thinking these things about Angel, that he started vocalizing them, drowning her in compliments rather than complaints. And, as he started to sit up, he found his cheeks flushing, lips being covered with hers, and his eye  growing wide in shock. 

Angel … is kissing him.

[purest-dove]

Admittedly, Angel had been wanting to say it for so long, so it’s no surprise it’d come out eventually.

The two had been pretty much inseparable since he rescued her and her child from the hell they had been stuck in for years, finally broke her away from a seemingly endless cycle of abuse, helped her to finally begin to see her worth...not only that, but he had so much more care and love for others than she’d seen in anyone else, despite his consistently over-the-top nature and (often) stupid actions that usually got his ass kicked all the way to Pluto. Despite him being pretty much her polar opposite in so many ways...she can’t help but be a hopeless romantic and fall for him. Not once had he hurt her in any way, berated her, mocked her...and he’s been an excellent caretaker with regards to caring for Skylar, which is certainly a big plus.

Preceding a fairly long ramble about something (she forgot about what she had said halfway through), she ended up admitting her feelings in an unexpected (even for her) slew of words involving the classic “I love you”, her eyes wide as she immediately goes to cover her mouth with both hands, her face and ears immediately turning bright red, her neck and shoulders flushing pink. She can’t even say anything at this point, her eyes squeezing shut, her face on fire as she furrows her brow. That’s the only thing she distinctly heard as word vomit had been allowed to flow freely. She seems to curl up, her knees trying to get themselves pulled up so she can curl up in a ball, but her heels press against the bed instead, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears, her throat, and her chest.

God, why did that have to be the thing she admits?!

Feeling the tugging on her dress instead, the flushed woman opens her eyes again, looking down as she sees Julian on his knees on the floor, grabbing the skirt of her dress and sobbing/laughing into it, immediately pushing her to be concerned. She’s about to ask him if he’s okay when he says “I love you” in return, causing her to freeze, but not in a bad way. She stays still as stone for a moment as she feels heat come to her eyes as well, tears running down her face as she lets go of her mouth with one hand, her legs moving to hang freely off of the edge of the bed as she leans over, taking one of his larger hands in one of her much smaller ones. It can’t be seen, but a shaky smile is on her face now as she sniffles a bit.

“...y...y-you...you do...?” she asks, not believing what she’s hearing. Of course, she trusts him, but...hearing someone say they love her, without a hint of sarcasm, deception, or ulterior motives...it’s an entirely different experience for her. She can feel her hands tremble, a huge weight lifting from her shoulders. She’d wanted to say it for some time, but never found the courage to do it, fearing rejection...even in a string of (mostly venting) words, she wasn’t lying by any means.

Maybe she should try being a little more open more often...

∞ [[ purest-dove ]] (Angel to Julian because I’m curious as to how he’d reply to that)

hearing “i love you” from your muse for the first time = ∞

Julian’s first time hearing Angel tell him that she loves him takes him a little by surprise; he’s nothing short of delighted, though, probably nearing tears. She seems to have that affect on him a lot, in the best way possible. He’s holding onto the skirt of her dress, face buried in the fabric, muttering dumb, soft, dramatic things while it’s all muffled. “I love you too”, “I don’t deserve you”, “Oh my god”, all while cry-laughing out of joy.

@purest-dove

[purest-dove]

Despite the context of the situation, with Julian soon to be off to get some supplies for the office, his dramatic yet smooth movements as he takes ahold of her smaller hands leave her both flustered and a bit giggly. She can’t help but smile a little and let out a small laugh as her face turns a bit red, gently squeezing his hands in return. She’s slowly learned to be a little more confident around the man that exudes so much confidence that even Lucio’s over-the-top impression of what a Count should be would seem about as lukewarm as a glass of water, but she’s still incredibly shy, for more reasons than it just being in her personality.

“I-I-I’ll be h-holding you to that, J-Julian,” she says, as much as that cute little name Mazelinka refers to him as threatens to slip past her lips. She had tied (most of) her hair back in a braid in case she needed to jump in, knowing full well that Ilya’s cooking skills were...well, shotty, at best. She’d never say it, of course...that would just be rude. “I-i-if you’re not back i-in the next...” she pauses, then continues. “Four days, th-then I’m afraid y-you’ll not be tasting a-any of m-my cakes for a m-m-month,” she threatens, trying to use a stern tone that makes her seem more like a puppy attempting to be fierce. An empty threat, of course; as soon as he comes back, she’ll be showering him in cakes and sweets for daring to go out despite his status. Still, she thinks it fun to tease at least a little. She giggles a little as she glances toward the kitchen area, wanting to make sure nothing’s started burning. Sure, she trusts him more than that...but she tends to get...very lost when she’s around him.

“Ah! Th-though...” she says, quickly pulling her hands away from his before hurrying over to her bed by the dresser. Taking something out of said dresser, she hurries back over to Julian, handing him a small, deep purple gemstone (amethyst?) in the shape of a butterfly. “I-I’ve been meaning to g-give you this. I-I normally don’t c-c-carry things like that a-around with me, b-but...I-I tend to keep th-that on hand or i-in a pocket when I-I can. A-a dear friend from another c-city gave it and a-another one to me...I-I know you’re not o-one to really...go along with m-much in terms of m-magic, but it’s b-been blessed with a p-protection spell. I-I kept it with m-me a lot when I-I-I’d leave the house...t-to keep me f-from getting into danger. I-I want you to h-h-have it, s-since I have a-another one m-made of rose quartz,” she explains, taking one of his hands and placing the small butterfly in it, resting his other hand on it with a smile. “A-a little something for p-protection, to make sure y-you come h-home safe...a-and a token of m-my gratitude. I-I feel safer with y-you, here, th-than I’ve felt in a-any other city since I-I was a-a little girl. H-hopefully this serves you a-as well as it’s s-served me, i-if not better.”

♪ [[ purest-dove ]] (CUS I WANNA KNOW WHAT THE HELL U GON DO WITH THIS)

Send me ‘♪’ and I will make a starter based off a random song from my music playlists. 

@purest-dove

Song: One Call Away, Charlie Puth

Having work to tend to while trying to host such lovely company was currently going to be the death of Ilya. He doesn’t want to leave Angel at the home alone, but he really did need to run out for some supplies for the office. They were having such a wonderful night – he even has dinner cooking for her since he wanted to try out a recipe straight from Selasi. So, when he grabs Angel’s hands in a dramatic stupor, he’s mostly trying to convince himself of what he’s saying. “Now don’t you worry, it won’t be long, darling.”

[purest-dove]

Even though it’s hardly legible, the small woman can’t help but smile at it. She’s used to Skylar’s handwriting being horribly messy, so she’s a bit better at deciphering the man’s code. She’s definitely keeping this sweet letter tucked away in a little box, along with a few other little trinkets and letters from special people that have long since been lost, either by moving away or by plague.

She hopes Julian and all others she’s met because of him won’t meet the same fate, but she has the inclination to believe they’ll be safe.

✒ [[ purest-dove ]] (can at least let him try, right?)

Angel,

My darling, you are the kindest, purest soul I’ve ever met. Please never change. You are an absokute light despite the darkness you’ve been through.

Keep shining, my love.

- Julian

@purest-dove

[purest-dove]

“W-well...I-I suppose so...i-it just doesn’t seem th-that it would be very f-f-fun, o-or even...healthy...” the short young woman replies softly, finding herself a little anxious about her response. “B-but...if it’s fun f-f-for others, th-then I suppose it’s u-understandable. I-I’ve never really ever been d-d-drunk before, so perhaps I-I can’t really truly understand u-until I do, if I ever d-do so,” she supposes, giving a small, nervous smile. If even a doctor is doing it, perhaps it’s not so bad? She wonders just what it’s like to be drunk...she’s seen others get drunk, of course. It’s the Middle Ages, everyone gets drunk at some point.

Perhaps it’s one of those “don’t knock it till you try it” situations?

“I-if the drink i-is so terrible, then...wh-why drink it? G-getting drunk doesn’t...s-seem fun in the aftermath...” [[ purest-dove (if Mun doesn’t mind interaction outside of threads) ]]

@purest-dove

“Because getting drunk is fun in the moment, dear! Why else would a man subject himself to it often? The headaches are all but a blur in the long run. Along with any drunken memories.”

[purest-dove]

The much smaller woman lets out a small squeak as the redhead hugs her in return, a small laugh escaping her. She gasps softly as he picks her up in his arms, her arms reaching out as she grabs at the collar of his shirt in a reflex to hold on, her hair tied back in a very long braid. She can’t help but blush a little bit and give a small “eep” at the squeeze (what is she, a squeaky toy?), giving the man a sweet smile as he speaks.

“M-must I need a r-reason to hug you?” she responds jokingly, then she giggles a little. “Y-y-you seemed like you n-needed or w-wanted one, so I-I figured I might as well p-provide,” she stutters out, glad she didn’t startle or scare him. She figured he wouldn’t be one to be too jumpy or too easily to scare, but who knows? “I-I heard you were s-startled by a snake’s s-squeezes, so I-I figured I could p-provide a more pleasant k-kind of squeeze.”

Cue a different kind of squeeze, a hug from a certain marshmallow in yellow!

Julian loves hugs! Especially when they’re from small sweethearts! He gathers Angel up in his arms, squeezing her gently, smiling warmly. “Ah, hello, my dear!” He hums, just barely lifting his head to glance at her face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

@purest-dove

[purest-dove]

She knows it’s hypocritical of her. To take the pain while simultaneously demanding he not take hers. But what choice does she have? If she did nothing, she’d...feel awful. She’d feel like she could’ve done more, like she failed to keep someone safe. She knows it’s ridiculous, Julian was voluntarily taking the pain so she didn’t have to suffer anymore...but dammit, she won’t let someone else deal with it! She isn’t sure where this mentality came from...her mother was a kind, caring woman, even up until she passed. She took the pain Angel couldn’t handle...maybe that’s what it is. Maybe she really does blame herself for what became of her mother...

That damned island.

She looks up at him again through a tear-filled eye at his comment about Skylar being lucky to have a mother like her. She doesn’t feel like anyone would be lucky to have her in their life, not with her constant crying and incidents of either nightmares or just...straight-up breaking down. With shaky hands, she still just gives a silent nod in reply, but she doesn’t feel it’s enough. After another sip of tea, she pauses again, biting at her bottom lip as she sets the tea back down on the nightstand, standing up despite her exhaustion. After a moment of keeping her gaze on the floor, she looks up at him and rushes toward him, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him in for a tight (not really, her grip is so weak not even glass would break if she squeezed it) hug as she buries her face in his shoulder, refusing to let go of him. She can’t help it...taking back her own injuries, thanking him repeatedly, showing her appreciation in more ways than most probably would, it’s not enough to her. It’s not enough for her to just thank him and leave it at that. It’s awkward for her to just run at him and hug him like that, she knows full well, but she feels like if she didn’t she wouldn’t be properly thanking him. She would hate to ask any more of him during the night, anything at all, so if she does, she wants to give more in preparation. She still wishes she could do more...she doesn’t know what she would do, and she knows he wouldn’t ask anything of her that would be more than just letting him know if she needed something.

She holds onto the back of his shirt, trying not to have yet another breakdown, but it’s hard to keep it all held back. To keep herself from fully breaking down again, she pulls back, at least enough so she isn’t holding onto him so tightly, whatever her definition of that is. She sniffles a bit as she wipes at her eyes, pausing for a moment before speaking again, her voice shaky.

“...I-I-I hate to ask m-more, but...I-I’m terrible at u-undoing the l-l-laces of my corset, I-I can’t reach...I-I-I just...need help u-untying the top, I-I-I can...take care of th-the rest,” she says, then she shakes her head. “B-but if it’s t-t-too much right now, I-I can wait u-until morning, or...if y-you’re not comfortable w-with it, m-maybe I could ask M-Mazelinka in the m-morning...” she trails off, her gaze staying off of him now. “...I-I’m sorry, I-I-I just...uhm...m-my husband always t-took care of it f-f-first...” she says. She would have had it off earlier, but her husband insisted she keep it on, for reasons she certainly never will understand. She already has a narrow waist regardless of the corset, so why bother? She supposes it does keep things in place, but aside from that, she’ll never really understand why corsets are “necessary”, when all they do is hurt.

She despises wearing it...but she’s so used to it, what choice does she really have?

She pulls her arms back and backs up away from the Doctor (assuming he isn’t holding onto her as well, in which case she’d just pull her arms away), her body still shaking, though it’s still much more obvious in her arms and hands. She can’t help but feel guilty...worrying him sick, coming to his home injured horribly, not allowing him to heal her without her immediately pushing back and taking the pain from him...and now asking him to help with a corset? Maybe her guilt stems from something else, but she’s too tired to deal with it right now.

“...c-could you just...s-stay close...? I’m...I’m u-used to curling up w-with someone to sleep, b-b-but...I-I understand if th-that’s...too uncomfortable f-for you, s-so...I-I don’t know...” she adds nervously.

The rush to push Julian away from helping her made the man both confused and concerned all the same. He lands to sit back on his heels, looking up at her with a saddened look in his eyes. Of course, he understands that she doesn’t want anyone else to endure similar pain or even heartache, but he wants with all of his being to do whatever he can to help. Quietly, he listens to her speak, nodding slowly along with her words. He breathes out slowly, rising to his feet, gently placing a hand on Angel’s knee as he does so. “I understand that you don’t want me to take the pain on for myself, but just know that I want to help any way that I can.” He makes doubly sure to give her the most sincere and solemn eye contact, just so that he gets his point across. The matter at hand was extremely important to him, and he didn’t think he could express that quite enough.

Figuring that it was probably time that they both get some sort of rest, he takes a few steps back, but leans against the wall for a brief moment to finish their conversation for the night. “If you need me at all during the night, darling, please don’t hesitate to wake me up. Tomorrow I can figure out what to do about your aches and pains.” It wasn’t very long after he took on her wounds that he was thinking about how to help with the healing processes. Right now, though, he was thinking more about how much he’d like to deck that man in the morning for letting this sweet woman endure anything like this. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he offers one more soft, sleepy smile, listening to Angel’s short mom speech.

“The boy is lucky he has you, love. I admire you wholly, I just want you to know.”

[purest-dove]

The sweet young mother nods softly in reply to his first question, then she winces again, taking note of the man’s bittersweet smile. Her soft cheeks are stained with tears, tears still falling from her chin, mixing with the blood running down. Her eyelids slowly start to droop a bit, making it painfully obvious that her condition is only getting worse. She weakly holds onto his hands, though her injured one twitches a little from the pain of moving it.

“I-I’m...not sure...” she responds, trying not to cough, knowing it’ll only make the pains in her torso worse...but it fails. She coughs a few times, one of her hands slipping from his grip long enough for her arm to wrap around her waist, a slightly more intense look of pain contorting her features a bit more. Still, she puts on a pained smile, trying not to dwell too much. “I-I just...need to...g-g-get the...glass out, and...I-I need to take off my c-corset, so...I can t-try to set things...I-I think something’s b-broken,” she says. She wonders if tea would be able to get her energy up enough...but with some stress having been somewhat alleviated by the much more calming presence of both the doctor and the homely woman, maybe she can focus a bit more on healing. “M...m-maybe some tea c-can help...I-I just...need to find s-some energy, s-so...I can heal m-myself...” she says, though she feels as though she’ll pass out at any moment now. Still, she reaches back with her free hand, trying to pull the back of her dress down just enough to undo the corset, but she knows that’s going to be impossible if she can’t at least get the dress off first. That’s an awkward state to be in when she’d only just met this man earlier in the day...

With a small bit of energy recovered, she decides to put it to good use, the mark on her forehead returning. She winces again, a strained noise escaping, but she manages to put her energy into the most concerning injury, her broken ribs. It takes a moment or two, but she manages to heal them enough so she isn’t in danger, though they’ll still be very fragile. Unable to keep it up for long, all she’s able to do is fix her ribs enough so they won’t require any further healing or attention and form a scab on her injured hand, but as soon as the scab has formed, the mark fades as quickly as it came, a strained noise coming from the mother. She pants a little, but she’s thankful she was able to do at least that much. She closes her eyes briefly, a bit sweaty from the strain of both running and trying to heal herself when her energy tank is running on fumes. She shudders a bit as her eyes open again, an exhausted look in them.

“I-I just...h-h-hope I haven’t t-tracked trouble in my wake...m-my husband, he...I-I was able to g-gather a few bits of c-clothing, s-some food, a couple o-of toys f-for my son...a-and some money, s-so...we could...at least have th-that,” she explains briefly, unsure if it was best to discuss her husband right now. She’s drained enough as it is...there’s no need to put herself through even more emotional distress. She doesn’t notice at first, but her unruly-haired son had gotten out of bed and decided to head over toward his mother and the strange redhead, tilting his tiny head a little.

“...m-mommy, you...you’re bleeding...” he comments quietly, a subtle Middle Eastern sort of accent in his voice (albeit mostly overshadowed by the accent learned from his mother), tears dripping from his small, rounded chin as he sniffles a little, wiping at his eyes with a puffy green sleeve. “W...w-we can still...cuddle till we sleep, r-right, mommy...?” he whimpers as he rushes over, hugging one of her still covered legs tightly. The young mother sniffles a little and nods quietly, giving her son a weak smile. The child manages to hop up onto the bed with his mother, hugging her carefully as his tiny form shakes. She wraps her free arm around him, carefully pulling him in as she softly kisses his forehead, carefully squeezing at Julian’s hand. She rests her chin on the top of her son’s head as he stands, burying his face in her shoulder and trying not to weep. He eventually pulls his head back and looks toward the man. “...y...y-you...you’re the...th-the doctor mommy told me about...r-right? C-can you fix her? Mommy can’t heal when she’s tired...”

“S-sweetie, I-I’ll be okay...I-I just need to...get the g-glass out, then...b-bandage myself up for the night...b-by morning I’ll be g-good as new, okay?” Angel assures, though she still sounds uncertain. She has no idea how much energy she’ll have by morning...she should have enough to heal herself if need be, but after a strenuous night like this, she isn’t certain if “by morning” is quite the right wording she should use. Skylar can tell that she isn’t certain, a small frown on his face as he presses her forehead against her shoulder again.

Julian found himself currently muttering in a chair in Mazelinka’s chair, his eye giving off a familiar glint of worry, his hands scrunched up in his messy scarlet locks. He couldn’t help but to be worried; meeting such a soft, quiet soul, and knowing that he hadn’t gone with her to face her adversity… it made him feel like an idiot. And that was an understatement. 

As soon as his family friend came through the kitchen to let him know he had company, he immediately sat up straight, peeking around the corner to catch sights of a familiar face, with gentle, familiar features, and an even gentler and familiar voice. He stands from his chair in a quick bout of happiness, rushing before Angel to happily and carefully pick up her hands. He daintily holds onto her fingers, casting her a bittersweet smile. “My darling, I’m so happy you’ve come. I was so worried you wouldn’t make it here. Thank you for trusting me.” Just as tenderly, the doctor lifts the woman’s hands to land a quick peck upon her knuckles. “The child is here, too, correct? I’m sure you both are exhausted – could I perhaps fix you a cup of tea, or talk you to sleep with a boring story of mine? Any way I can help.”

Of course, he fully intended on having a nice talk with the source of their despair tomorrow, but for now, he was happy to help any way that he could.

[purest-dove]

The woman hesitantly gives a soft nod as he speaks, though she doesn’t close her eyes when his eye shuts, still too paranoid to let her eyes shut too often outside of blinking. She’s clearly still fearful, her shaking hands a very, very clear sign of that. She looks down at her hand as the wound fades away to nothing, her visible eye widening as she looks up toward him, noticing the same mark. She starts to wonder if it’ll affect him right when she sees her wounds form on his body...but there’s a significantly greater amount of damage than first thought. Of course, the obvious is there; the cut on her hand and the cuts in her scalp transfer, but there’s a deep pain in his left side, a burning in his thighs, and...a significantly worse pain on the inside, telling of even worse abuse than just mental, verbal, or physical.

Seeing the wounds crop up on his body, she knows he’ll feel everything else she felt, and she doesn’t hesitate to correct it. She furrows her brow as she shakes her head, cutting him off with a “No!” in the middle of his speech, a hand bolting up to rest on his shoulder as her own mark reappears on her forehead. The disappearance of the physical pain gives her a window, and she doesn’t hesitate to go through. The wounds he took from her don’t fade as well as they did when he healed her...but they heal quickly. The marks reappear on her body, but only as hardly visible scars, the same with him, but the pains that had cropped up in his side, thighs, and deeper inside disappear immediately for him. She refuses to let him suffer the same way she did, she refuses to let him take her pain.

It’s not fair to push it on someone else.

With the hardly visible scars there, she takes her hand away from his shoulder, looking into his silvery grey eye with her hazel one, a nearly horrified look on her face. She feels her eyes water again as she bites at her lip, her hand reeling back as it trembles, though she keeps ahold of one of his hands with the one that stayed in place.

“...I-I can’t let you t-t-take my pain, D-Doctor...” she says quietly. “...th-thank you, for...f-f-for thinking of me, b-but...I-I can’t let you s-suffer too. Y-y-you’ve already worried yourself s-sick...I-I’m sorry, b-but I wouldn’t be a-able to forgive myself if...i-if I let you suffer m-more th-than you already do,” she apologises, looking down at his hands before taking both of them in hers. “Y-you...y-y-you don’t deserve to...f-feel what I’ve felt. N-no one does, n-not...n-n-not even him,” she mutters, her hands shaking like leaves. Thankfully, Skylar had grown so tired out that he fell asleep quickly after hitting the bed, so he didn’t hear his mother’s outburst. She falls silent once more, most of the pains from before gone, though some of it remains. It takes less effort to heal others, even if she’s completely drained of energy, but she wonders if she bit off more than she could chew. With that pain gone, she was able to find a window of clarity and focus, just enough to heal him, but now she’s entirely too exhausted to do much more. She lets go of his hands, reaching to pick up the cup of tea by the head of the bed, keeping quiet for a moment longer before speaking again.

“I-I’m sorry...I-I truly am grateful f-for the help. I-it’s...th-the most help I’ve r-received from anyone s-since...” she says, cutting herself off. “...b-but...still, I...I-I can’t just...let you m-make yourself s-suffer. It’s not f-fair, n-not to me, n-not to your caretaker...a-and especially yourself. I-I know your work c-consists of taking care of e-everyone, but...if you d-don’t care for yourself, y-you won’t be able t-t-to help anymore. H-hypocritical of me t-to say, I know...” she says, a weak laugh let out as she sips at the tea after blowing on it a bit to cool it off. She hates to give a mom lecture at a time like this, but she can’t help it. She holds the tea in her lap, pushing some of her hair behind her right ear, keeping the left side of her face covered. She knows he’s already seen the scar, but she doesn’t dare let it be seen again. “...b-but...th-thank you, ‘Ilyushka’...” she trails off, wondering if it would be too soon to say what she wants to. She’s been in the hut for not even an hour, yet...she feels safer than she’s felt since she lost her mother, ten years prior. She smiles a little, though it seems more like a bittersweet one. “Y-you’ve already done s-so much by just...l-listening to me a-a-and taking us in. S-so...y-y-you’ve no need to t-try to outdo y-yourself...you know...?” she says, eliciting a nervous laugh, a few tears rolling down her face, though it’s hard to tell if it’s because she’s happy or if she’s overwhelmed, but one could assume it’s both. She sniffles a bit as she wipes her eye, a (shaky) smile still on her face. “Y-you’re the first...p-person to...a-a-actually believe me...I-I-I’ve tried to tell o-others, b-but they never trusted m-my word. Th-they always thought I-I was just...t-trying to get my h-husband’s money, e-even though it was c-clear I wasn’t, a-and even if I was...i-it was my inheritance f-from the start,” she says, running a hand through her hair as she softly cries again, though that (albeit pained) smile doesn’t fade.

Julian watched quietly as Skylar went off to bed, hoping that he would soon fall asleep. These two needed rest, it was quite obvious, and he only wished that their sleep was restful and cozy. He noticed how well the two got along, and how sweet their bond was. He was incredibly happy that they were finally out of their awful situation. And now, he really wanted to help Angel feel better, at least physically.

Well, after she was done with the glass. Even as a doctor, watching the poor woman yank each shard was cringeworthy, and he winced, turning his face away until he knew she was finished. Once he felt her light touch fill his grasp, he turned to face her once more, putting on a half smile once more. “I want to reiterate how happy I am that you’re here. You’re very strong, and such a wonderful mother. The boy is lucky.” Giving her hands a light, reassuring squeeze, he breathes a long, slow breath out, before continuing. “Alright, this is only going to take a moment, and you might get worried afterward, but please try to remain calm and trust me. Everything will be okay.”

After watching for a reaction and waiting for a hesitant reply, he gives an affirming nod, before closing his eye.

True to his word, the process only took a moment or two. Brief, and, on Angel’s end, painless. In fact, at this point, she should be feeling all her wounds closing up and her skin going back to normal. However, if she had kept her eyes open, she would notice the same wounds appearing on the redhead in the same exact spots and – what looked to be a glowing tattoo on his neck. He can be seen wincing slightly again, but this time out of pain instead of empathy. He soon opens his eye once more, and glances up to Angel with a smile. “Alright, my dear, there we are. The fatigue you’re feeling can’t be taken away with this feat, so I’m afraid only a good night’s rest will cure that much. But I’ll be damned if I don’t make sure the both of you get that.”

[purest-dove]

Angel takes note of the tea nearby and the re-arrival of Julian, but she dismisses it for now. All she really cares about doing right now is keeping her son calm. She can deal with her exhaustion in the morning, or...whenever she’s able to wake up from her fatigue and injuries. She prays to God that she won’t have to encounter her husband again...she prays he won’t be bothering her, her son, or anyone else ever again. She’d hate for some other poor, unsuspecting woman to end up marrying him. No one deserves to end up in that kind of relationship, not even the cruelest of people.

She winces again as the pain of the glass pieces wedged in her skull reminds her of its existence. With a hefty amount of reluctance, Angel carefully lets go of her son, giving him a quick look as she reaches up toward her head, quickly feeling the area. Not many pieces are stuck...maybe one or two at most. They don’t feel too big...maybe she can just...yank them out. Skylar turns his head away quickly as she seems ready to pull them out, but Julian’s voice brings her to reality. She pulls her hand away, hesitating with her response. Should she? She isn’t certain if she wants anyone outside of Skylar to hug her, let alone hold her hands. But...maybe there’s a reason. She looks toward her son again, reaching toward one of his shoulders with her non-bloodied hand, gently nudging him to face her.

“S-Skylar, love...p-please, wait in bed f-for me. I-I-I can tuck you in sh-shortly,” she says. The small, red-eyed child furrows his brow in worry, glancing toward Julian, but he just nods, giving her another hug before hopping off of the bed, quickly scuttling off to the bed he had come from not long ago. The injured woman watches her son hurry off with a worried look on her face. She trusts that he’s safe here, but she’ll always worry when he’s out of her sights. She turns to face the doctor again, about to reach for his slender hands, but she reels her hands back slightly. “Uhm...I-I...at least w-w-want to...g-get rid of the g-glass,” she says. She picks up the bloodied cloth from the ground (she hadn’t even noticed it had fallen at first), holding it in her not bloodied hand before reaching up with the injured one, carefully but quickly yanking the couple of pieces of glass out. The first is fairly tiny, as she suspected, the same of the second...but an unexpected third one is painful to rip out. As she yanks it out, she she lets out a breathy cry of pain, letting go of the glass as it drops to the ground, quickly placing the cloth on the wound. The glass went a bit deeper than anticipated...it was actually a fairly big piece, blood on the sharpest end from being lodged in her head. She shudders as she pulls the cloth away after a moment, wincing as she does so. She uses the cleanest part of it to wipe the blood from her fingers and what she can from her injured hand, then she sets it down next to her on the bed. Picking up the pieces of glass, she sets them on the cloth, taking a moment to let herself settle, blood dripping from her chin, a deep red streak having already been left deep in her long, soft brown hair.

After she takes a moment to recover (though her head still pounds and swims from the pain), she reaches for his hands, carefully taking them. With a closer look, a few faint scars can be seen on her hands, though nothing much of note; they’re a bit on the chubby side, but it makes sense. She isn’t really chubby, but she sure as hell isn’t a stick. Her skin is smooth and surprisingly soft...nails are clean, a decently maintainable length...she clearly takes pride in taking care of herself in regards to hygiene. Even for a woman of her height, her hands are small...but it makes sense. Her arms are a tad on the short side to match a slightly shorter upper torso, so it makes sense that her hands would be small to match.

New tears begin to run down her face, even though she had initially thought they had gone away by now. With pounding pains in her head, slightly sore ribs, arms, thighs, and neck sensitive from bruising, a sore back from old marks, and sore...unmentionables being focused on now, she only just now realises just how close she really was to dying this time. Still, she tries not to cry too much, sniffling a bit as she looks toward Julian. She gives him a weak smile as she carefully squeezes at his hands. “Th-thank you...” she says quietly, not expecting anything more than just a bit of comfort from the hand holding. Even if it really was nothing more than that, she’d be more than happy with that.

The tall redhead watches almost in shock as Angel attempts to heal herself; it wasn’t every day he found someone with a similar ability to his own, let alone someone able to use it on themself. He ushers her to sit down, his small turning into a frown when he notices how much it was wearing her down; more so than she was already stressed for. He felt bad – all he wanted to do was help this sweet lady and her child get a good night’s rest. His excitement soon wears down, since it was obviously too late in the night, and the situation most definitely didn’t call for it, and instead pours a cup of tea for the mother anyway. 

Not wanting to interrupt the mother son bond, he quietly sets the tea cup down on the small table beside the head of the mattress, losing himself in thoughts of what would be called for by the time morning came. He was most definitely going to confront the man responsible for all this heartache, all this pain; wealthy or not, he was going to be held accountable for his actions. And Ilya would make sure of that much.

It wasn’t long before Julian was interrupted from his thinking – probably for the best, too, because it wouldn’t be long before just thinking about this stranger would make him incredibly angry. A soft voice prompts him, and he glances down at the soft face, nodding, offering a kind, warm smile. “I am a doctor, yes, love. And I can certainly help your mother.” Biting on his lower lip, he cautiously reaches out his hands, coming forward to kneel at the edge of the bed. “Here, darling,” he prompts Angel, watching her face with a tentative smile – he hopes she would be comfortable to reach out. “Give me your hands? I can help, I promise.”