#amelieizzi.

[scopesting-a]

❝ it’s family, you protect. doesn’t matter who it is, blood or not. ❞ // from ur darling baby izzi

dragon age / accepting !

@wraithshells

     wise words. doesn’t give amélie pause as she’s forced to look at herself in the mirror, putting the finishing touches of her makeup on. macaron sits on the counter. amélie has learned to put up makeup as she goes, god forbid macaron put her paws or tail through it. mel’s proud to see her hands don’t shake while she applies fake lashes ; her issues with her appearance haven’t gotten much better, but she isn’t going to start shaking now. she’s got work to do.

     “    that’s right,    “ amélie replies, rifling through her things until she retrieves what might as well be an industrial hairband. mel brushes through her hair.  “    i remember trying to tell you something similar when you were younger. shorter, too.    “ she offers a smile.

     amélie pulls her hair into that restrictive signature ponytail and makes sure the sleeves of her red blazer are pulled all the way down her arms. wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse of the webs and words trapped within them while she’s trying to work. she turns towards isidora. she takes her face in ; the way amélie pulls her own face together makes her look serious and tired, older too. it still hasn’t stopped being surreal to have izzi around. amélie isn’t sure it’ll ever stop being surreal.

     “    i’m trying really hard to keep everyone safe,    “ amélie confesses. sure, the violent methods don’t seem to align with the overall persistence of peace but it’s what works. it’s what she knows how to do. it’s what she made for. she thumbs at the bridge of her nose.

     “    everyone i’ve gotten to know is important to me. i’d easily trade my life for theirs every time.     “ her tone leaves no room to wonder if she’d even hesitate. amélie would walk straight into a bullet, right into the end of a knife for izzi. for gabriel. for satya, for abigail, for indy, for julian, for baptiste, for yuna, for hana. for every single person stuck on this clusterfuck of a life path.

     amélie gives a soft smile and lets her hands find the sides of izzi’s face to cradle her head. “    i’m so proud of you.    “ a little crinkle forms between her brows giving the impression she might start sobbing before she forces it to smooth out.

     “    incredibly proud.    “ amélie tried hard to be a good role model earlier on in isidora’s life, before everything that happened happened. she sees a lot of herself in her sometimes. 

     “    gérard would be proud, too. i know he is.    “ a fond smile even if it feels like amélie’s heart could break all over again.

[scopesting-a]

‘ everything will be okay. ’ from izzi!

soul kiss / accepting !

@wraithshells

     amélie treasures moments like these. quiet, peaceful, and shoulder-to-shoulder with her daughter. amélie never stops feeling that overwhelming amazement at the woman isidora has become ; amélie never thought she would get to see it, to have this second chance. there are bumps of course, having no idea that one’s father was alive the entire time the world told you he was dead will do that, especially when aforementioned father doesn’t bring it to attention. amélie understands gabriel’s reasoning, of course. doesn’t think it was the right call. izzi’s reactions to him prove it wasn’t. amélie hopes in time things will improve, but not before they’re supposed to.

     she angles herself towards izzi with a small smile, magenta eyes getting caught in the dusky orange of sundown. everything will be okay. amélie is … a bit surprised to hear that from her but doesn’t allow it to run its fingers over her serene expression, cracking it. no, she retains that small smile.

     “    i hope it will be soon. i’m exhausted,    “ amélie admits with a small shrug, laughing when macaron comes scuttling across her legs. but goddamn if that’s not the truth: she’s exhausted !

     “ i want to enjoy retirement, you know. spend all day in bed with your father — sleeping,    “ amélie tosses in there so she doesn’t get the ew, gross look but fails when she sees it knit across izzi’s features. anyway. macaron gives a small mew from her lap, “    literally sleeping. i’m so tired.    “

     she’ll still be problematic but being able to not leave bed, to not have to hear the snap of bone and the gurgle of blood in someone’s throat ? shit, she’s excited to look at some puzzles for a while or something.

     “    excited to spend time with you, too. i want to take you back to the chateau. it’s been so long since you’ve been able to see it, mon lapin. — and when i’m through with talon, i want you to have it. it’s been passed down through my family for generations.    “ and you’re my daughter.

     amélie leans over and presses a kiss to izzi’s cheek.  “    i love you.    “

[scopesting-a]

"I'll try not to hit anyone" // from Izzi!

dragon age / accepting !

@wraithshells

     “    thanks, i appreciate that.    “ amélie murmurs into her toxic-bright cocktail, because of course this is a bar. just a place where people — men a lot of the time — are just asking to be hit. she keeps one elbow leaning on the bar top, legs crossed at the ankles. her black dress looks a little too much for a place like this and the backlessness of it puts her black widow on full display, a warning. don’t come too close, i’m venomous and i bite.

     “    i know you can handle yourself, mon lapin. — but if i see someone trying to hit you, i’ll have to do what i’m best at.     “ what’s that, amélie ? hurting. the hand not occupied with her dainty glass runs through her bobbed hair ; it’s a nice wig ! she’s considering this as a real look in the future.

     amélie scans the bar. it’s an ingrained habit: be aware of the people. the exits. have a plan. in front of her are rows upon rows of bottled liquor. perfect thing to toss people into. she’s not so much here for fun, not much of a drinker, but to pass on some information to sombra. has to be in person. it’s not so bad. mel’s got a good companion. her daughter is her entire heart. amélie studies izzi with a hint of a smile, the curl of it suggesting she would be open to a show of violence. wink wink nudge nudge. don’t be an enabler, miss.

     “    soooooooooo,    “ amélie draws it out real long, real slow. she feels the vibrations of people around her — someone is standing right behind her, a little too close. she keeps her expression loose. she knows it’s a man. if he puts his hand on her, well, she’s just going to have to hurt him.  “    anything new going on i should know about ?    “

     the dulcet tone of a mother, even as she feels that presence grow closer and more insistent. amélie brings her left hand up to cup her cheek, her wedding ring glints sharply, very much like the man who gave it to her. her final warning. amélie hears the beginning of a rickety voice ; hey, sweetheart --- then feels the press of hot, calloused fingertips at the center of her back, right where that red hourglass is.

     after that, amélie hears nothing until she’s grabbing the man, and bends his arm in a way an arm should never bend. the man screams. a SNAP. the man screams louder. other people give hushed whispers. some gasp. a blonde near amélie faints, friend lightning quick enough to catch her. amélie releases the man from her grip, letting him collapse to the ground.  “ keep your hands to your fucking self.  “

     amélie picks her cocktail up again, like nothing happened. at izzi’s wide expression of both amusement and what amélie is sure a twitch of wanting to argue, she says,  “    i didn’t hit him.    “

[scopesting-a]

5 (from Izzi)

blood lust / accepting !

@wraithshells​ , your  muse  applying  pressure  to  my  muses  bleeding  wound.

     something like this was never supposed to happen. if the world was fair and the world was right, none of the things that led them onto this path would’ve happened and amélie wouldn’t be able to have no trouble keeping her face as a placid mask. despite the fact that she’s so fucking furious, sick in the gut with it. amélie has to keep it forced down. cages it like an animal. a familiar feeling.

     “    i’ve told you so many times to be careful.    “ amélie’s relieved to hear her voice doesn’t tremble with the force of anger she feels. she just sounds tired. agitation flares up more as her fingers slide against izzi’s exposed skin, slippery with blood.

     amélie hates when she gets like this: feeling an emotion wanting to bubble up and pop, threatening to take all of her over until she can’t remember what happened. god, she can’t be considered a person, can she?

     he was just a better shot. i’m fine, ma.

     that’s not the goddamn point. amélie manages not to grit her teeth while she continues her work on setting up the tourniquet. she decides this is the most she can do. she patches herself up all the time, but she won’t take the risk on isidora. she’ll just ask angela for help.

     “    i don’t care. i don’t want something to happen to you.    “

     i feel like it’s not fair of you to say anything considering what you and dad get up to on a daily basis.

     it’s enough to make her angry. watch something break in her hands angry. amélie keeps her hands firm as she settles the tourniquet in place.

     “    you think i want to do this ? i don’t ! i don’t want to do this or be this. it’s not fucking fun for me. i didn’t chose this -- and i have to do it. because gérard is dead and he’s never coming back. i have to right what happened the best i can.   “

     amélie doesn’t care that izzi looks taken aback, just the tiniest amount.

     okay. you made your point, ma.

     amélie doesn’t respond, turning to let her bloodied hand grip for her phone. she doesn’t want to fucking talk to angela, either, but it’s necessary. more important than aching feelings.

[scopesting-a]

‘ i’m gonna try and get some rest. ’ // from Izzi B)

a woman under the influence / accepting !

@wraithshells

     amélie often finds herself unable to sleep. there are some instances where she can, where she experiences nothing but blackness. she considers those as good nights. then there are the times the attempts start as a success, and taper off into night terrors that have her jolt up with a sheen of sweat. on the worst nights, amélie screams. it’s a bad night. gabriel tries his best to console her (the two often end up having to take turns in this regard, both being owners of terrible trauma). sometimes there’s nothing to be done other than giving him a wavering smile that does nothing other than make him grow more concerned. it hurts more when he’s like that, a hand of his tender in how it cradles her cheek. she gives the hand a squeeze and smiles again, sure to press a kiss to his mouth before she moves to leave. amélie promises that she’ll be all right and that she loves him over her shoulder.

     on the worst nights, it’s never disappointing to call isidora over. amélie knows it’s likely she’s awake, too, having the exact same problems. what a family. amélie isn’t disappointed when izzi answers almost immediately.

     “    come over, sweetheart. i…i miss you, and i can’t seem to sleep no matter how hard i try,    “ a watery laugh. her smile wavers again when izzi agrees. she tries to straighten her face — amélie’s glad to be able to cry again, but the feeling of her entire mouth trembling, eyes squeezing shut as she tries not to…she didn’t miss that, or the burn that creeps up her throat. amélie ghosts down their long hall and down the spiral of stairs, walking until she hits the downstairs. amélie keeps fighting tears the entire way. at least the house is beautiful. amélie will never be able to thank satya enough.

     she flops — well she means to flop onto the couch, but she stops in time to realize macaron is blending into it — eases, herself on the couch, scooping macaron up onto her chest as she lies flat on her back. she lies like that for a while, moving only when she can fine tune her senses enough to know izzi is approaching. she’s at the door right as it’s knocked on.

     “    my love !    “

     dramatic, perhaps, and sounds like it should be accompanied with a flourish into amélie’s arms. and that would be correct. amélie brings izzi into her arms, chin resting on her shoulder. both of them are so tall ! a deep breath in before amélie’s looking izzi over with a wide smile. it’s crazy … crazy that amélie is able to see her again, see how much she’s grown, see how much she looks like gabriel.

     “    make yourself at home.    “ amélie says this to her every time.

     long story short: depression sucks, but standing out on your balcony with your daughter and talking for what must’ve been at least two hours ? that’s good. that’s healing. and amélie wouldn’t trade it for anything.

     i’m gonna try and get some rest.

     amélie shakes herself out and finds her head pounding right behind her eyes. she’s quiet for the several long moments she takes look isidora over again. amélie can almost see her as her child self, mouth lifting at the corner briefly. amélie really missed so much, so many years, that izzi’s grown. it’s mind-boggling to her.

     “    of course. let me walk you to your room, at least. — you can take macaron with you. i know how much she helps you.    “ sometimes half tempted to just give macaron to izzi and getting herself another, that’s how much it seems izzi has taken to the feline. amélie loops her arm through isidora’s. she leans over just a little to press a drafty kiss to izzi’s cheek while they walk, gaze affectionate. this is her entire daughter ? isidora loves her ? accepts her ? it’s enough for her face to start trying to do that wobbling thing again. she stops it.

     “    here we are — macaron’s about to round the corner.    “ amélie untangles herself from izzi and kisses her hair, smoothing her hand over it a moment later. amélie offers izzi a fond smile.  “    i’m proud of you, you know. i love you. if anyone wakes you up, i’ll kill them. — if you need me, i’ll be upstairs. goodnight, izzi. sleep well.  “