#foul play can be a really fun move! but only in a calculated environment

[goldensunset]

*my ears open* i can hear geeta’s theme in the unova e4 music

[caterinaprimrose]

Metamorphosis (pt 2)

(WAIT if you haven’t yet, go read PART 1!!)

Caterina felt a tight wrenching sensation in her gut as Cazneaux spilled his thoughts upon the midnight air. Her face twitched with little subtle reactions and jolts. Eyes linger here then there until they rapidly flick about. Finally she shudders in a breath and weaves her blues between his browns. "Are you going to think less of me if I'm completely honest with you?"

Her various twitches were caught by his deadened gaze, though he mostly looks into her eyes as he speaks. Upon her inquiry, he shakes his head with earnest in his voice. "I'd respect you more."

 Dark lashes bat a few times, her bottom lip caught between her teeth just barely, like she was preparing to say something for the first time. "I think that I  don't see what you see in myself in relation to him because I've spent -so- long feeling.. -small- next to him." Her nose curls in disgust, eyes narrowing like she'd just seen something foul. "I've been broken into this sick and twisted cloud of being secondary. Not just from him but all of them. -He's- protected first. -He- is the priority. -He- is the one they'd die for. And, surely, I've wormed my way into the hearts of some of them but even then I feel a chilling knowledge that if he  gave the command I'd be dead within the hour.” A pause lingers. “I’m frightened because If I step away from this I have no clue what will happen to me. I won't have those suits protecting me as they did. I won't have that security of my well being and in doing so my social -image- drops. I became what I am with his help. How much of that can I do on my own? If I change my environment so drastically - the foundations, won't I just crumble?"

 If he could make his gaze soften, he would. If he could invoke some sort of emotion within his eyes, he would. But alas, he could not. Instead, he resorts to his face, not desiring to interrupt vocally, sporting a frown. Not one of disappointment, but  one to express sympathy. He slightly steps forward and removes his left glove, exposing his tattooed, worn fingers. And with said calloused, slightly crooked digits, he rests them on her naked shoulder, gently rubbing his thumb against her much softer skin. "I'm quite proud of you for speaking so openly to me about your dealings. About how uncomfortable and trapped you are. About your self doubt and insecurity. I -will- be honest with you, just as you have been with me. As long as you truly think so poorly of yourself, if you believe yourself to be so weak and small and little compared to him, which he has designed your life to end up being, you will ultimately be his slave for the rest of  your life. You'll never reach your potential, you'll never reach your peak, and yes, you've a fantastic reputation for yourself and you're highly esteemed, and he may have aided you with that, but is -he- acting? Is -he- the star? Is -he- the talent that everybody looks up to and loves and beats off to in their shack? I don't fuckin' think so. And nobody else does, either. But the longer you stay with him, the more you depend on him, the more you cling to his arm, the more people will see you  as his 'pretty lil' bitch' and once you're gone, he'll nab a new one. One that's younger, one with more bravado, one that will look better on his arm than you as time goes on." 

He gently pats her shoulder, "Now, are you going to settle for that life? Having his kid, no longer acting, staying in your big ol' manor by yourself with a kid of a guy that you don't love, he doesn't love you, and everybody in your circle knows it? Or are you going to grab life by the balls, scream 'who's your  bitch', spit in its face and make it squeal your name? Are you going to show Azeroth that you can be successful, powerful, innovative and not a force to be motherfuckin' fucked with for decades to come? Or..." He trails his hand down her bicep  before dropping it at his side like it was dead weight, "Are you going to end up a housewife that had fun while she was young, but sold out to her insecurities? Where people would see you taking your lil' ten year old to the bookstore and maybe one  or two parents might recognize you and their kid won't give two and a half shits about? Where when you're done signing their autographs and walking back home, they gossip how disappointing finally meeting you was."

 She felt sick. Like she might throw up or pass out. A light headedness came upon her, his hand the only thing steadying her. Like he was laying her whole life out ahead of her. And she really thought about it. About how she would like for things to go and how, even if she tried to convince herself, she knew that Braxton would never allow those things. That he'd be free to continue expansion of his life, goals, business. But she would be expected to stay home with the baby. To educate and teach it.

She reflects back on Quellys. That's what this felt a lot like. Like the same conversation she'd had with her best friend the night she died. 'But you could have a life, you could be Caterina, have children that will grow up to adore you and ones that you could safely teach to sing to dance, you could go to bed and actually be held by a man that loves you instead of a man who will likely have a separate room in his home for you…Caterina you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, you’ve made a cage for yourself out of this life and you’re walking yourself to the hangman’s noose like you’ll be given the courtesy of a long drop!' She'd remembered it word for -fucking- word. Against her will, her eyes stung. She was flooding with anxiety and the only way her body knew how to expel all of the tension were tears. But she fucking hated crying. She didn't do it very often, not without command. So her feminine fingers rise, both of them - lightly cupping  over her face. Barely touching it as not to smudge her makeup. She was just gathering herself. A hitched breath came out but a more controlled one was deeply sucked in. He could see a flick of her thumb move and wetness on its nail. She stayed like that for several moments.

Spotting the tears begin to form within Caterina’s eyes, Cazneaux slowly lowers his head and raises his ungloved left hand to brush the top of his index finger along her cheekbone before retracting and moving his whole hand against her upper-back. Noticing her aiming to disallow her tears to fall too far, he begins to nudge her into his warm mass, keeping her there, allowing her to wet his leather and mail mixed armor. All the while, he continued his slow, calm, calculated breaths to combat the tension within her body. A sensual, circular rub against her back. "There, there, love." he eventually states, his rumbling voice causing a slight vibrate if her head was to rest against his chest.  

"I don't know why I'm crying, it's so -stupid-." the actress nearly hisses the word. "I -know- you're right, you all are. All of you that have told me this same exact thing - so why am I so fucking startled!"

“Because he -molded- you to be that way. Think about it, Caterina. You weren't scared of any other man before him, were you? You dominated them all the while making them think you were just a pretty lil' thing. But he was smarter than the rest of them. He broke you down, and brought you back up to fit the mold he wanted you to fit, and you went along with it because you're an actress and playing parts is what you do. Just like any other time. But -this- time was different, because you ended up believing that character -is- you. You -are- that character. You stopped acting, in that sense. You ended up -living- somebody else's life, and now their life is yours. All the while, your -true- life. The person you -truly are- is suffocating, and if you marry that man..." He shakes his head, speaking with a stern tone. "If you marry that man and have his child, the -real- you dies. They are buried under a nameless grave, because nobody knows who she is. Only who you -act- to be. And you've acted so well that you've even tricked  yourself. Now if -that- doesn't show your skill, I'm truly at a loss for words."

 'Be safe…be smart…and for whatever you’re worth, don’t marry that man.' Echos off along diamond dripping ears. -Those- were Quellys last words to her. Caterina inhales once, her breathing had slowed slightly, a trembling hand pushing her hair back from her face as she looks up and backs away. Exposed to him, her eyes are big, red along the corners and leaking. She's leaking. Her nose and cheeks are cherry and her lips fuller. Her lashes look darker, wet, longer.

What a sight. From 'stumbling into' one another, and around two months later, she's crying in his arms about an abusive man and not knowing who she really is. A widely renown actress of whom he had watched when they were so, so young. Eyes wet, runny  nose, and flushed cheeks in his grip. If he was a poet, he'd write down many thoughts. But he was not. He is instead an ex-military man, ex-felon, arms dealing, smuggling murderer who has taking more lives, innocent or not, than he'd expect his accountant to be able to take. Far more than his mind and heart could handle, that's something he knew for certainty. And yet here she was, using him as someone she's depending on and trusting with so much personal information. His mind continues to think and re-evaluate as she describes her story, in what he believes her attempting to calm herself down and think out loud about her situation of which she seems to finally admit the truth about. "There's a saying in the streets,” Cazneaux started again, 'Be your own best friend, 'cause your -other- best friend'll sell you out the moment they can gain from it'. Apply that here. You've allowed the drainage of your true character, your -true- personality and soul. And now that you know this, are you going to watch her wither away and die alone, or are you going to be your own best goddamn friend, and invigorate her and bring  her to life with color and bravado that I know you can?"

She blinks soft, the back of her hand gently skimming over her tear-stained cheek. She inhales soft, taking a moment. But when she opened them? A darkened tone had over taken her eyes. Something much more calm and serious, residue of her tears still dot her visage. She tilts her head in that way she does, eyes flooding over his expression. His hand that was curled around the back of a slender neck felt warm. She brought her fingers up in front of her stomach, twisting her rings so the gems were all  facing up to the stars. 

"How would you like a powerful addition to building your empire?"

 An open-mouthed grin. That was his first physical response to her inquiry, matched with his moral-less eyes may be a haunting sight for most. An immoral man, happy? Surely no good could come from that. His fat tongue runs along the edges of his teeth before he closes his mouth and releases a low chuckle. "You already know the answer to that, babe. But, you absolutely deserve a firm answer. I'd love one. Especially if they've the eyes that you hold, and the wits that you store and use like an expert."

She didn’t smile back, no, she was far too severe. "And Cazneaux?” Caterina inquires, eliciting a “Aye?” in response from him.

“If something happens to me, if -he- does something to me?" She exhales a single breath, her eyes turning cold and vicious. "Burn him to the ground."

 And there it was. The smile that best fit his graveyard gaze. The vengeful, machiavellian, toothy grin of which rivaled a Devil's. "With pleasure." 

@mister-reigns

@braxtonhudson

@quellys