#heartsdafne

[j-ofspades]

♠♥ Starter for @heartsdafne ♠♥

Vessel was one with his mask, he often forgot he was wearing it. But at the moment he was particularly grateful for it. Few people could read his mood, guess his expression beneath the mask. One of those people was… her. Could it really be? Yes. There was no mistaking that mass of jet black curls, those eyes.

Seeing her again had hit Vessel with a force he couldn’t begin to describe. Their story had been short perhaps, but intense enough to contain a lifetime. 

Vessel didn’t think of the Borderlands as a paradise, but at least in this place his old life was behind him. His problems, his heartbreak, none of that mattered here.

And now she was here. Dafne. The proverbial thorn in his side. Beautiful as ever. What was she doing here? 

He would have to talk to her. They needed to reach some sort of arrangement not to get in each other’s way. A sort of truce. And if she only offered hostility? That was something Vessel was prepared to accept too. Any piece of her is better than her absence, he told himself.

The next night, Vessel sought her out. Somehow finding her without much effort, something invisible pulling him to her, like it always had. He took a deep breath.

“Dafne… a word?”

[hinataxsunshine]

“A spades game… well shit.”

Alice In Borderlands Themed Prompts

Hinata bounced slightly as he stared up at the screen that was explaining the game. A spades game, hm? He glanced around at the people he came here with and the other players that weren’t apart of the beach. If he counted correctly.. there was 15 of them. Hopefully they could all get out of here alive.

“A spades game.. well shit” someone muttered, and he glanced over at them. It was a woman, one of the people he came here with— a new beach member.. and Hinata had noticed her right away. Mostly because of her eyes. Pretty Violet eyes.. something you didn’t see everyday in the world or the other one. His Heterochromia was rare too.. but he’s never seen anyone with her eyes.

So he just smiled, holding out his arms to stretch slightly before he spoke up “Hey, I’m pretty good at Spades so.. why don’t we stick together?” Hinata suggested. If she didn’t want to, that’d be fine as well— he was going to try pay attention to everyone anyways to see if they’d need help.

[sofiamoreno]

❝ are you drunk or something? because that was some of the weirdest shit i've ever heard. ❞

Prompts for Little Shit Muses

Oh. The most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. Was alcohol the reason? Wait—she'd spoken, hadn't she? Sofía's spring-colored orbs hardened in focus, buzzing brain attempting to remember exactly what the violet-eyed brunette had said. “I am not druynk. Drrronk. Djunk.” Clearing her throat, Sofía took a sip, which did not help her drunken haze. "Drunk." A radiant smile of pride. Did it.

But it faltered as the rest of the words landed. "Did I say something weird--?" She gasped softly. About the woman's appearance? Had she been absolutely shameless with flattery? Weirdest shit. "I blame liquid courage...?" Said with a lackadaisical smile and a flutter of lashes.

[heartsmajestymira]

My queen, I'm just here to inform you that your last game was a complete success. Players manipulated into ignoring the most obvious solution, ended up not working together and simply... killing each other. Just before the time run out. You would have loved the despair in their eyes, the drops of sweat running down their spines and the sides of their faces... but of course, you must have seen, with the cameras.

Now, I will infiltrate the Beach. Anything in particular you want me to do? Someone you wish me to keep an eye on?

Ah, the fairest of them all~ dearest Dafne. How your loss would be my gain. I'd keep your skull and crystalize those amethyst eyes as a shrine to you. Out of despair I'd rip my heart out of my own chest and place it in a jar beside it as it only belongs to you.

How I wish I could have been there for that game! I shiver again at the thought. A screen does not properly relay the soul-wrenching anguish. I should play again soon...be a beacon of hope to the rest of the Beach members as their Executive and watch as they fall one by one at my feet.

Listen well to the rumors, Dafne. They are woven from truths fallen from boasts of the overconfident.

You may always keep an eye on me~ I do find a thrill in catching the hues of lilac in a sea of people.

[thetiredassistant]

Well.. now you’ve got an ally who won’t fuck you over (it’s me, surprise!).

…alright then. If you need any distractions or help, I’m happy to offer my services. I have trust you won’t get caught. And Hope.

Yeah, of course. Promise. I’ll be careful with my questions and try to keep a low profile. I’m good at that. Although I have been hoping for a chance to be an executive— that feels more like a dream though. Not usually the guy to be in power.

Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. I appreciate it, truly. Thanks.

You mean— could we ask him? You know, for some? Still getting used to this cult ‘paradise’ thing.

…Thanks. I try to be, even if I do give him shit most of the time. But it means a lot to hear it from someone, Yknow. I hope so too..

Little bit less each day. Okay. I’ll try but I’m not gonna make any promises. Its my go to drink now, but I’d rather not die by coffee.

If you need anything from me, don’t hesitate to ask. I’d be happy to help.

[j-ofspades]

💋

Send me a 💋 for a gif of how our muses would kiss

...slowly... hesitating... charged. Like the atmosphere right before that first lightning strikes. But at the same time, sweetly familiar, full of every past moment, and the promise of future ones...

[j-ofspades]

Hey, buttface.

Missed me?

Dafne... is that really you?

I would ask 'what are you doing here?', but I assume the answer is obvious, reveling in the mayhem.

Have I missed you? A part of me can't deny I have, but fret not, I will silence it.

-V

[j-ofspades]

Having tried to close the distance between them in a single leap of faith, an abyss that could be measured in time rather than distance, had made Vessel feel like everything had stopped moving. As if the Earth itself had stopped spinning, frozen in place until Dafne spoke. 

And then. Whiplash. On one hand she’d rightfully reproached him for neglecting her, for having been blind and deaf where she was concerned. Vessel could feel the void between them growing, swallowing him whole, never to return. Until she said she would like to have the time to find out. Those words were like a lifeline, one to which Vessel clung with every fiber of his being.

Vessel elevated two silent prayers in his mind. The first one to Sleep, thanking Her for leading him back to Dafne, even if it was for a short while. The second prayer he directed toward Time, beseeching Him to take mercy on them and let them live.

‘Fair enough,’ Vessel said at last. ‘You have given me more than I could have asked for, certainly more than I deserved: hope. I can’t ask for anything else. I don’t know if things can go back to the way they were. For one thing, we may not be able to go back to the real world. But if our fate has led us to find each other here… then maybe this place isn’t the hellscape it’s supposed to be. If we can endure here, I don’t want to go back.’

Vessel resisted the temptation to trace Dafne’s lips with his thumb. The wall between them was crumbling but it hadn’t fallen apart, there were still boundaries that should not be crossed. He let his arm fall at his side, feeling as though he had passed the hardest test. Vessel took a step back and resumed his previous position beside her.

Time. He wished it was in his hand to grant it to everyone, to her. To them. Uncertainty would kill him, but it was his turn to be patient now.

‘Shall I walk you to your room?’

Seemed like finally she was getting the explanation he should have given her two years ago.

Would it suffice? Be enough to heal seven-hundred and thirty days without him? Feeling neglected, alone, like she was not enough, not when compared to a deity, to the divine. To Sleep.

She had been fascinated about It, about Her, too. Of course she had. To be able to hear the thoughts of a God, to receive orders directly from Them. To achieve what so many people had dedicated their entire lives to. It had felt like an accomplishment, something that they could have achieved together, but Vessel had given his soul and his heart to Sleep, including the part of them that should have belonged to Dafne.

And now they were here.

The violet-eyed woman knew very well he still heard Her. In his mind, in the whistling of the wind, in the murmur of water, the crackling of fire.

She wondered, not for the first time, if it was Sleep or Vessel speaking.

Dafne waited until he finished to reply, not knowing what she'd say, but hoping she'd find the words along the way. Wanting to lean into his touch, but afraid that, if she would, she would get stained. Not her body, but something else. Something deeper.

'I would have explained, if there had been someone else. There was never anybody else. It was always you.' Suddenly, the hem of her skirt being played with by the wind was the most interesting thing in the world, her eyes glued to it. 'You said I left without any warning signs, but that's not true. I was tired of you looking at me and not seeing me, tired of you listening to me, but not hearing me. Vessel, I gave so many signs.' A storm going on inside her. Nothing but her fists clenched revealing the turmoil. 'I don't know if there is a way past this.'

She had to be honest with him. And being honest, right now, was to make him aware of her uncertainty.

'And even if there was, it wouldn't be so easy, it would take time. Time we may or may not have.' Dangerous games being played every single night, lives at danger. Sometimes theirs; at the very least once every two weeks, or so.

'What I can tell you is... I would like there to be. To go back to how things were.'

As if nothing had changed? That was for him to find out.

[j-ofspades]

'You had already abandoned me, long before I decided to grab my things and go back home.'

Her words rang in his ears and sent him down an endless spiral of doubt and regret. He’d had two years to think about that, she said. How could he possibly tell her that it hurt so much to think about her, to conjure her beautiful face in his mind and know he’d lost her, that he had avoided dwelling on thoughts of her altogether? 

Of course he thought about her from time to time. Constantly. All the time. But he had forbidden himself to consciously think about the two of them. She was gone and that was that.

Had it only been two years since he’d last seen her? It felt like a lifetime. In an instant, two years of repressed memories flooded back to him. Vessel remembered the last few months they were together: the fights, the tears, the toxic cycle where he couldn’t bear to face Dafne, to answer her questions so he would seek refuge in Sleep, which would bring forth a fresh wave of complaints and more arguments.

But hadn’t she said they’d worship together? They had knelt at the same altar, recited the prayers, partaken in the sacred ritual and in it, they’d become one with each other, and one with the deity.

Maybe he’d been too blind to see he was dragging her down a path she didn’t want to walk. 

Vessel would never have abandoned her. He wanted to think he hadn’t. But Dafne herself was leveling that accusation against him: judge, jury and executioner. His sentence? A life without her. 

‘I’m sorry,’  he said, as he should have said two years ago. ‘I don’t regret my choices, they led me to the divine. But I regret what those choices did to you. I didn’t know…’ Vessel stopped talking abruptly, asking himself if there was any point in continuing, but her violet gaze was still scrutinizing him, so he went on. 

‘When you left, all I thought was that you’d found someone else.’ The mask he now wore didn’t cover his mouth, he was aware she’d see his sad smile. He willed her to perceive the truth in his words. ‘So here it is: You say I abandoned you. I thought you had stepped out on me. And neither of us talked back then, and now here we both are.’

A sudden gust of wind blew by, playing with his cloak, with the hem of her skirt, with her hair. He raised his right hand slowly and traced the contour of her face, careful not to leave any traces of black paint. ‘Is there a way past this?’

And I was hoping to see you.

Six words. Six words that felt like six stab wounds. She was bleeding out; all the hate, all the resentment, all the pain she had held onto during the years, gone with six simple words. Did he mean them? To make sure she was alright... did he cared? Whether she sank or swam, whether she lived or died? Judging by the last months they had spent together, he didn't.

But of course, one thing were rational thoughts, and the other the fact that her heart was beating fast and hard, like that of a bull when he saw the color red, like a wild animal using teeth and claw to escape from its prison and finally be free. He still loves you, he still loves you, he still loves you... No, this is not love, was her answer to the voices inside of her head. Maybe, he feels bad. He recognizes his mistakes and wants us to, at least, be in good terms. Yeah, that's it.

She pressed her lips together, wondering what to answer. Luckily, the topic of the conversation soon changed to more trivial things. Things it was easy to talk about. Her posture visibly relaxed; she wasn't holding her hands behind her back anymore, she started to use them to accompany her words, and even shot him a smile or two. Small, almost imperceptible. But a smile, nonetheless.

Just when she was starting to believe maybe this friendship could flourish, he stood in front of her. His masked face everything she could see. Dafne still recalled, perfectly, how he looked without it, without the black paint, how his lips felt moving against hers... as they were doing now, but to ask a question.

Why didn't she come back.

'You haven't figured it out?' Incredulity bleeding into her words, her violet eyes looking for his, defiant, challenging. Or where they should be, anyway. 'You've had two years to think about it.' Cold anger, as if the temperature had dropped and it was no longer August, but December now.

'It wasn't me who left. You had already abandoned me, long before I decided to grab my things and go back home.'

[j-ofspades]

Something stirred in Vessel when Dafne asked about his mask. That she had noticed all the details was remarkable, but he didn’t expect anything less from her; she had always been quick minded, perceptive, one of the few people who could keep him on his toes. Even now.

Vessel knew better than to be flattered by her attention. It was just the close proximity, she couldn’t help but to notice everything around her and at this moment he happened to be there, the object of her scrutiny. Dafne couldn’t possibly be interested in him, she wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Perhaps it was for the best, her violet gaze awoke a sea of memories in him, and Vessel was afraid of drowning.

‘The mask is just… meant to represent a connection between me and the deity. I am just a carrier, a conduit.’ Vessel bristled at Dafne’s next question. He didn’t think of his ‘outfit’, his name, as a way to hide. It was just an easy way to keep his identity concealed because… it wasn’t important in the great scheme of things. But the more he thought about it, the more he started having second thoughts. Maybe he was hiding after all. From everyone. From her. What would happen if he said as much?

‘I’m not hiding, Dafne,’ he finally said, caressing her with the way he said his name. Familiar, safe. He thought about thanking her for not using his real name when she could have, but the idea died a second later when he noticed the hint of a smile lighting up her features. He had managed to make her laugh. He knew it, like only they would, and in that second the past two years disappeared, the chasm between them didn’t exist. She was just Dafne and he was just… the boy she’d met, the man she’d loved.

Before the moment evaporated, Dafne had returned the compliment. Because that’s what it had been, as veiled as what he’d said. Was that really all they could have? Memories that were still so alive they filled everything around them. And if he were to open up, then what?

Vessel stood up suddenly, his chair scraping the floor. ‘I shall not interrupt your task, forgive the intrusion. I’ll… see you around.’ He said that last word with a mix of hope, the slight inflection of a question with unspoken parts: when? how?

'Is there a purpose to the mask having six eyes? And the sigil?' Fuck, Dafne thought. She shouldn't have said that. Her eyes were still glued to the screens of the surveillance room, and she hadn't tore them from there ever since she had opened her mouth to speak. Now, Vessel would know just how much attention she was actually paying to him, going as far as to memorize each and every detail of the mask that was hiding what she had once considered to be the most beautiful face on this Earth. She could still see each and every one of his features, engraved on her mind.

There were few things she could always conjure, and the image of him laying beneath her with that half-smile... It never really left her, did it?

'A container for what?' She had fucked up once, so she might as well keep doing it. No point pretending she didn't care, not any longer. Vessel had always been a... spiritual man, for the lack of a better term, but this felt like it was too much, even for him. 'Who are you hiding from... Vessel?' She thought about calling him by his true name, but no. The moment his name escaped her lips the soldiers around her heart, which were nothing but a sorry excuse for an army, would leave their post and simply let him in. And she couldn't bear the pain of losing him again. They said the second, third, fourth time you lost someone hurt less, but she was sure it was the opposite, because there was a secret element in play; hope. The hope that things would get solved, that everything could be like it was before, that they would go back to laughing together, to sharing endless conversations, to telling the other person absolutely everything about their day, even the most irrelevant details... it was like participating in a game one knew they would never win.

There was almost a smile at his next words. Almost, but not quite. Someone watching her intently, however, could see the corners of her mouth curving slightly upwards, her half-lidded eyes and the way she shook her head. She had found it funny, but she didn't want to laugh. Dafne couldn't allow him to have that power. She was his prey, yes, but she wouldn't go willingly. Had she been the same girl he had once met and loved, her cheeks would have burned at the veiled compliment. Now, that was everything she could offer him. Still, just the fact that he had said it... 'I don't think anybody would complain about seeing you sporting nothing but swimwear.' A teasing tone, her body leaning slightly towards him, turning in his direction. No, no, no, no... thoughts swarming in her head like angry bees, silenced by a single yes. Whoever it was that said the affirmative didn't have to shout, their voice commanding enough without the need to raise it. 'I do think it would work for you.' She eyed him up and down. Yes, he was hiding his face, but he was baring everything else, and one thing was painfully obvious: he hadn't let himself go.

And she was still attracted to him, like a winged insect to a funeral pyre.

[j-ofspades]

Her words could still injure him it seemed. Even that apparently innocuous remark. Careful, I don’t want to be stained with paint. Vessel could have taken that request literally, sure. But some part of him, interpreted Dafne’s words as “I don’t want to be stained with you”. He recoiled imperceptibly and moved away an inch, all that the cramped room allowed for. 

Was that how she felt? As if he were some noxious substance that would ruin anything that he touched, that would leave a mark on her skin. The irony was that it was her who had left an indelible mark on him, one that even years later refused to fade. And that he covered himself in black paint to hide that mark–to hide her–from the deity.

Silence closed around them. Heavy, oppressive, foreboding. What had he thought, that they would fall back to their familiar ways just because they had found each other here? And then what. That they would be talking as if nothing had happened between them, laughing at their inner jokes, getting closer until … no, of course not. 

There were things he wanted to tell her. “Sorry” was just the first one that came to his mind but what was the point. Maybe the past should stay with the past. But then why couldn’t Vessel just let it?

He knew he should leave. He was only making himself uncomfortable and making it awkward for her, and unlike him, she had a clear task to fulfill. Perhaps they could consider this in their agreement, they could split the use of the room–

Dafne’s voice broke his chain of thought.

‘The… outfit?’ Vessel repeated, looking at Dafne. He considered the question seriously, solemnly. Not just because she was the one asking. ‘The mask is the essential part. But all of it is meant to indicate that whoever I am doesn’t matter. What matters is my voice… I am just a messenger, a container. Anonymity is… like a warm blanket.’ 

Vessel tore his eyes away from her and pretended to pay close attention to one of the screens in front of them. ‘Also, I would much rather wear my cloak, pants and black paint than follow the dress code of this place. Don’t you think?’ Vessel turned fractionally toward Dafne again. ‘It wouldn't work for me. I just wouldn’t look as good as others do.’ This he offered her, half-veiled in a general statement: You are as beautiful as I remember you.

'Yes, that's what I'm...' Annoyance still bleeding into her every word, as well as boredom. Until she realized, stopping mid-sentence. Was that a hint of jealousy in Vessel's words? She raised a black eyebrow, violet eyes examining his mask, wishing she could stand up and rip it off his face, read his expression... because then she would have known for sure. Either way, her lips twisted into an uneven, cheeky smile, as she tapped the table's surface with long nails, one finger at a time. 'Are you jealous, Vessel? Is that what this is?'

However, she was not in the mood to torture him. Not now, not after so many years of not knowing whether the other person was dead or alive (although, Dafne was sure that if something were to happen to him, she would know), so many memories, so many feelings. She hadn't been able to sleep that night, every time she closed her eyes, the images of everything they had lived together occupying even the darkest corners of her mind. Of course, he didn't wear a mask back them. Of course, his body was not painted black. What had happened, after she left, that had turned him into... this? She wouldn't ask. But the question was always there, in the air between them.

'I'm watching him for Mira. He asks too many questions.' She turned her body to watch the screens, looking for the scrawny-looking person she had to keep her eye on. When she found him, she pointed at the screen, completely uninterested. There he was, talking to some short-haired girl by the pool.

'I don't know. You tell me. You have been here longer than me,' Was her answer to his next words, but she pressed her lips together, forming a fine line, deep in thought. After some consideration, she finally kept speaking. 'I guess it is weird. But if you don't know the reason behind it... you are a face card, I'm merely a dealer. They don't tell me anything.' Resignation, now. Scrunched up nose in disgust. How she wanted to know the secrets of this place... but she was patient. She knew she would find out eventually.

Silence overcame them, once again. Cold silence, like winter, like a corpse. Not the comfortable ones they had shared years ago, after passionate nights in which they bared body and soul to the other person. How things could change in the span of a heartbeat. Dafne's body tensed when she saw him taking a seat next to her, but... she didn't own this place. He could do whatever he wanted. Telling him to go away or even standing up and leaving herself would be proving to her that she still cared, and that she cared too much.

She did, however, clench her jaw when she felt his arm touching her. Her eyes might have been purple, but inside, there was only blue. God, she missed him. She could admit it to herself, but not to him. It was useless longing for more, when there was nothing else he could offer, there hadn't been then and... there was even less of it now. 'Careful, I don't want to be stained with paint.' She didn't care. She wished he would just take her into his arms and kiss her, deaf ears to her unkind words.

Minutes passed, and she couldn't bear it anymore. 'Why the outfit?' Words escaped from her before rational thought settled in her mind.

[j-ofspades]

‘Is that what you are doing then, looking at a particular person?’ Vessel asked, trying to keep his voice casual; a slight lilt that perhaps she would still know how to detect was the only clue that a pang of jealousy had crossed his mind, clawed at his heart. 

Rationally, Vessel knew Dafne was probably doing what was asked of her. Irrationally, however, hearing her say she was spending hours following someone else’s movements made something inside him scream. Growl, more like. He’d never been the jealous type, but he had developed a sort of protective possessiveness around Dafne that he was shocked to discover was still there. 

Vessel allowed himself to calm down before he spoke again. He considered lying but what was the point? If Dafne wanted to betray him she would, regardless of what he told her. 

’I am trying to learn more about this place. It is insane, yes. Certainly not the utopia the executives try to sell it as, but it is incredibly well-organized for something that’s supposed to have started only a few weeks ago, don’t you think?’

He looked around the room. There was nowhere to hide from her intense gaze. If he left, it would feel like he was avoiding her, which was not what he wanted to do. If he stayed… only the deity knew what could happen. 

Vessel approached the surveillance monitors table slowly, in a very measured way, testing the waters, as if she were a dangerous predator that could rip him apart in seconds (which she was, in a way). He pulled out a chair and sat by her, pretending that his full body wasn’t on edge just by her mere presence. And he understood that his memories of her were still very much alive.

And they were so close. Too close. Could she hear the blood rushing through his veins, could she hear his thoughts?

He fixed his eyes on the monitors, but his eyes were unseeing. His arm grazed hers when he sat up straighter. 

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t ask whether you’d mind if I sat down.’

The seconds that passed between her formulating the question and him actually answering it, albeit with a nod, were some of the most nerve-racking of her entire existence. Had he not been here, had this been an exchange over text, she would have bitten off each and every nail on both hands, up to the point of drawing blood. An annoying habit she used to have before they had met each other, and that continued after their break-up, but stopped during the time they had shared a life. As if he was a balm for all her ailments.

He left, afterwards. And Dafne was, once more, alone with her thoughts. What did it mean, that he wanted to see her? Did he want to go back to the way things were or... maybe just keep her in her life, in whatever way that was? Because they had, after all, been important to each other. And that kind of intimacy was hard to find. Even harder to keep; they were the living proof of it.

But, if they did this... she needed to guard herself, somehow. To be protected from being hurt again. She couldn't walk in and offer him everything that was laying inside of her, every aspect of her that she had kept hidden for the last two years. Stupid, right? Pretending like his fingerprints were not engraved in the surface of everything that she was. Of everything that remained. Right below the dust.

They met the next day. It was almost funny, but only if you had a very particular sense of humor. The fact that for so long they had avoided each other like the plague, Dafne going as far as to block him everywhere, erasing every proof that he was ever in her life; burning pictures, deleting conversations, phone numbers. Counting the days for her to have a new set of skin (she had googled it and it should have taken no more than 27 days since they last touched each other — unsurprisingly, it took a lot more to finally be able to conjure his face or hear his name without bursting into tears) that his body hadn't been pressed against. Nothing left of him but bittersweet memories.

And now... just like that. He walked into the surveillance room, where she was observing a person in particular. Mira had heard him asking one too many questions, and she had asked her to keep an eye on him. Arisu, was he called? She didn't really care much. It was a tedious job, and so far, she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. The man was such a bore.

Vessel's voice sent shivers down her spine, but she managed to stay still and not jump out of the chair she was sitting on. Her elbow on top of the table, her chin resting on the palm of her hand. She turned around, with half-lidded violet eyes, and shook her head from side to side.

'Not really. Unless you want to spend hours looking at a particular Beach resident.' An annoyed sigh. 'What are you doing here?'

[j-ofspades]

Vessel said nothing when Dafne mentioned her home. Home to him was the one they had shared, not the place he came from but the space he’d found in her arms. And yes, he really should have expected her to go back to where she lived before meeting him. But the twist was, he had thought of that and now he could admit it to himself. 

After all, there were instances similar to the meteor shower in many other places around the world, were there not? But he’d been adamant to be in Tokyo. Because of her. It was a dangerous endeavor, and with Dafne here it could be so much more complicated. But he would risk it, Vessel knew he would. Because he couldn’t bear the thought of staying away.

And she’d just said she wouldn’t kill him. What was more, she’d also said he held a similar power. Vessel didn’t want to have that power, he just wanted to have… her. The moment broke a second later as she promised not to interfere. 

That was it, wasn’t it? He should leave. But he’d asked his question and Dafne was staring at him. Looking straight into his eyes even if she couldn’t really see them. She had once said his face was too soft. That had been part of the reason for taking up his mask. It had a deeper meaning, but part of it was to hide that softness, not from Dafne, but from everyone else.

Would he want to see her? Yes. Undeniably, always.

He nodded sharply, not trusting his voice, and immediately turned away so she wouldn’t see him smile. Her violet eyes would see right into his heart. Every unspoken word between them, as well as every moment shared, was there still. Vessel could not undo all that suffering, all that pain. But. If she wanted to see him… then he definitely wanted to see her again.

The moment came sooner than he expected, in the early hours of the very next morning. It had been hard to leave her room. Pointless to try to sleep. He’d gone into the surveillance room, trying to find out more about The Beach, and he’d run right into her. The close proximity obliterated his senses. And this was neutral territory, neither his nor hers. He forgot what he was looking for.

‘Dafne. Can I help you with anything?’

'You didn't think I would come back home?' What a foreign word. It didn't roll off her tongue, it felt almost exhausting to pronounce. Because she had only known one home, and that was Vessel's arms. Vessel's heart, lips, skin. Vessel's laugh, even, a sound that had little by little withered and died, like a flower left unwatered.

Her violet eyes shone with a spark of curiosity at the mention of the meteor shower. There were many secrets the face cards still hid from her, and the other Dealers. But, she was sneaky and knew how to go unnoticed. And therefore, she knew more than she should. Things she didn't dare mention out loud, not wanting whoever was in control of this place to focus their gaze on her. That was why she didn't reply to his words, afraid that if she would, some of her secrets would end up seeing the light of day, instead opting for a condescending sneer. Inside of her, a question burning with the intensity of a thousand holy flames: Why?

'I don't plan on killing y...' Dafne stopped mid-sentence, realizing what Vessel had said. I don't need to say it out loud for you to know that you still do... was it possible? Was it real? Were the feelings she was trying so hard to keep at bay still reciprocated? The love that still tormented her? Love. What a word. How she had refused to use it after the last time they had seen each other and how easily she was throwing it around now. 'It's not my intention. You know you hold the same power.' She would have liked to say something else. To do something else. To let all pretenses fall. But she couldn't. Not yet. The wounds were not healing, hadn't done so and were not meant to. They were, instead, singing: and you know I'll be yours, just want to be worth it...

'I won't interfere with your tasks, if this is what is all about. You do you, I do me. I had no intentions of getting us entangled.' Intense pain at the realization that probably, the only reason he was speaking to her was because he wanted to clear the air before a final goodbye, painfully oblivious about everything that was going on inside of her. How couldn't he notice? Was there any way to make him see?

His next question took her by surprise. She felt herself fall, and before she could drop to the ground, her hand looked for support, finding it in the backrest of the armchair in her bedroom. Using that as a crotch, she fixed her eyes on his. Or... where she knew his were, anyway. The image of his face in her mind. Had time changed him at all? Would he let her see?

'I would.' There was no 'but'. She wanted to see him again. In fact, she didn't want to stop seeing him. She didn't want him to leave. Was there anything she could do to make him stay? 'Would you?'

[j-ofspades]

Vessel hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, waiting for Dafne’s reply until she said ‘sure’ and he allowed himself to exhale. He longed for her just as much as he longed for air. Would the veil of hurt between them ever truly fall? Vessel didn’t have an answer for that. 

He didn’t even know what he wanted to say to Dafne. When she was out of his sight all he wanted to do was pour his heart out to her, let it spill all his secrets; she knew most of them, anyway. But when she was near Vessel was too busy watching her every move, from microexpressions to hand gestures, to be able to think properly and string his thoughts in a coherent way.

And so they started walking in a slightly less tense silence. Although, Vessel didn’t fail to notice that Dafne had her hands behind her back, fingers interlaced. Maybe a silent signal for him: don’t touch me.

If he felt hurt by that he had no one to blame but himself, Vessel knew this. What was he doing? What was he doing? It took him a second to steer his mind away from the dangerous idea of reaching out and taking Dafne’s delicate hand in his and confirming it still felt like they belonged together. What was he doing? She had asked that too just now, hadn’t she?

‘I was making my way to my room,’ he said. Not quite lying but also not entirely truthful. ‘And I was hoping to see you,’ he admitted. ‘To make sure you were alright,’ he added in a low voice. Because I am wary of Mira, but also because I will always want to see you. That he didn’t say. Could she guess the hidden meaning behind his words? She used to know him better than Vessel knew himself, perhaps she still did.

To dispel the sudden earnestness, Vessel talked about trivial things, surprised at how easily the conversation flowed between them when they weren’t talking about each other. Was this the middle ground he had been looking for? And if it was… what then? Would they skirt along that imaginary line forever, not really friends and never anything else? It was the safest bet, sure. But when had that been enough?  

In one swift movement, Vessel stood in front of Dafne. Not too close to block her path, but just so that she would look at him, and he asked: ‘Dafne, why didn’t you come back?’

An old inside joke, appearing between them like a bridge between two cliffs. A sturdy one, that could withstand her weight and allow her to cross to the other side, or one that would fall the moment she laid her pretty little foot on it?

Only one way to find out.

She didn't laugh. Didn't show him a smile. The only thing revealing that she found his comment funny being her eyes, becoming nothing but two violet slits, and the corners of her mouth curving slightly upwards for a mere second, before it became a straight line again, once she realized what she was doing.

Snorting with laughter would have been like letting the wall between them disappear. And she had already done that before, in the surveillance room; it had ended with him leaving, once again. With her intents at getting closer being rejected, with her heart a little bit more broken than before. A heart made of glass, broken in tiny little pieces that cut her skin when she tried to pick them up, that made her bleed. Tiny droplets of crimson liquid falling to the floor, tap, tap, tap. And in the middle of it all, Dafne, dressed in black like a crying widow, refusing to let go. If the only thing Vessel left her with, was pain, then so be it. At least she'd have something of him.

Confusion, now, in her features, revealed by the wrinkles appearing between dark, perfectly-shaped eyebrows, by the slight tilting of her head towards one shoulder. She couldn't quite figure out what was going on, why, if he didn't want her anywhere near, he suddenly was asking her to take a walk together around the courtyard and how easy it would be to say no, leave him hanging, give him a taste of his own medicine... 'Sure.' Why, Dafne, why?

'I wasn't planning on retiring for the night.' A lie, one of many. 'In fact, I was thinking about going for a walk on my own, so I don't mind if you accompanying me.' She had been tired, up until five minutes ago. But seeing him had activated her, and now she didn't think she could fall asleep, not even if she tried for hours.

'So, if you're not stalking, what are you doing here?' Dafne asked, fingers of both hands interlaced, positioned at her back, as she started moving towards the courtyard. The temptation of simply extending an arm and grabbing his hand would be too high, otherwise. The reaction, unplanned, too organic.

[j-ofspades]

Vessel dwelled on the few words he and Dafne had exchanged in the surveillance room. Eyes squeezed shut, he replayed the moment over and over in his head, with a devotion he usually reserved for Sleep. Dafne had never liked Sleep, if she knew… He shook his head and inhaled deeply, hoping that Dafne’s sweet scent still lingered in the air around him, clinging to his cloak perhaps.

Was there still something salvageable between them? The ocean of hurt that had pulled them apart and kept them away seemed to shrink into nothingness when she was near. If anyone had told him: “you’ll find her again and you’ll want to love her as much as you did, maybe more”, Vessel would have dismissed the comment with a derisive snort. Now that he had seen her though, he didn’t feel like laughing.

Once more he went back to that moment in the surveillance room in his mind. Dafne’s face lighting up with the beginning of a smile, cracking the icy barrier between them with her warmth. Only to be replaced by a solid wall the next second. A silent nod and nothing more. 

Vessel knew he was the one that had broken the moment. But he had to… right? Yes. Feeding the hope blooming in his heart was pointless. He would never forgive himself for breaking her heart before, he would never dream of doing it a second time.

Still… there could be no harm in keeping an eye out for her. Dafne didn’t need his protection, but he couldn’t help but wanting to make sure she was doing fine. He would watch from afar, he wouldn’t intrude, he would let her be, he would… run into her that same night. Was he drawn to her or was she drawn to him?

He hadn’t been following her, he could swear it by the deity. Vessel had known Dafne would probably meet with Mira at some point and he also knew the most direct route between Mira’s suite and Dafne’s room. He would have argued that knowing that didn’t count as following Dafne. 

‘I’m no stalker,’ Vessel said, mirth dancing in his voice. Would she appreciate the joke? ‘I… Are you, erm, retiring for the night? Would you like to walk around the courtyard?’ he blurted on impulse.

'Ah, yes. The deity.' She rolled her eyes, listening to his words as if he was completely delirious. She had missed nearly every single thing about him, but not the deity. Sleep, he called it? The moment it (she?) had appeared, had been the moment he had stopped being hers. And, it would have been bad enough had he been sleeping with someone else; but at least his soul would have belonged to Dafne still. That hadn't been the case when Sleep had showed up, occupying Vessel's body and mind, leaving no room for nothing else. They still shared the same bed, kissed before going to university or work, but they had been miles apart, ever since.

Dafne was unsure what she thought of it. She, for starters, didn't believe such a being existed. In her opinion, Vessel was probably schizophrenic, but when she had suggested finding psychiatric help he... the idea hadn't been received well, to put it lightly. It was not so much the fact that he didn't want to be treated; she could respect and understand that, up to a certain point. It was more that he rejected any kind of help, holding on to Sleep as if it was the answer to his prayers, like a weeping widow clinging to her husband's corpse before it disappeared underground.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the way he pronounced his name. Was it the accent, the way he slightly elongated the f sound? Or that it most likely held a secret meaning, like every thing Vessel did? The fact that it felt like a caress, as if he was saying a term of endearment... maybe, my love instead of simply Dafne?

She felt the magnetic pull towards him, as if Vessel was a planet with its own center of gravity and she the celestial body orbiting it. She wanted to get near... and she was doing just that, closing the gap between them a millimeter at a time, when he abruptly stood up. And she blinked in surprise. What had been almost a smile froze on her lips, right before she pressed them together and leaned back, almost on instinct, pain at being rejected pricking at her heart. What had been her intentions? Would she have kissed him? How was she so foolish?

I shall not interrupt your task.

How to tell you I haven't thought about my task ever since you showed up?

Forgive the intrusion.

I've forgiven you worst things, you know this.

I'll see you around.

Don't go. Please, don't go.

But of course, she didn't say anything. His words were met with silence and a nod. And the frail hope that they would meet again before the day ended.

Seemed the Gods were in a conceding mood, because there was Vessel, as she was making her way to her room after one of her meetings with Mira, late at night, the man walking through a corridor like a shadow. Nobody seemed to notice him, even if he was the strangest-looking person around.

She should have ignored him. She was still hurt by him leaving the surveillance room when it seemed they had taken a step forward but... maybe she was a masochist, maybe it was simply that she couldn't keep herself away knowing he was around. Or some other stupid reason, like that she had never really stopped loving him.

'Are you following me, Vessel?'

[j-ofspades]

Was it his imagination? He could hear the trace of an emotion in his words, anger, hurt? Disappointment. It was as clear as if the deity had whispered in his ear.

Maybe it was for the best. It was hard enough to stand in her presence without falling down to his knees. How he longed to reach out, tuck her long black hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger to graze her cheek. Vessel clenched his fists by his sides.

Had he still been the man she’d known, the man she’d loved, the one who didn’t wear a mask, he would have closed the distance between them and… but that wasn’t the case. They wore their love’s memories like scars.

‘I didn’t know you came back here after we…’ his voice trailed away. But perhaps he had always known he’d find her, one way or another. ‘This was just the place I had to be. The meteor shower was… something I had been waiting for.’ 

How much to tell, how much to conceal? Dafne was already disappointed in him, repelled by him, possibly. 

‘You can kill me in any number of ways, you know that. You’ve always had that power and I don’t need to say it out loud for you to know that you still do.’ There, it was out between them, just another spark that could either fuel them or set them ablaze. ‘I have taken the role of the Jack of Spades, yes. I know I have no right to ask anything of you but let’s try to be civil and not interfere with each other’s tasks. If you don’t want to see me, I can understand.’

Vessel knew he should leave. He was intruding, she was disappointed in him, much as she had been that fateful last time… But he couldn’t move. He was rooted to the spot, watching her. He could live a hundred years and never grow tired of watching her. Before he could stop himself he heard himself say: ‘Dafne… would you want to see me again?’

The way to her bedroom was plagued with uncertainty and doubt. What did he want to say? What did they have to talk about? She thought it had all been said and done, and still, in the loneliest moments, when darkness was her only companion and nobody could hear her, she still recalled their last conversation.

All the things she had kept to herself sticking out of her heart like splinters, making it look as if it was wearing a crown of thorns.

She only turned to face him when they were inside her room. This is my territory, you can't hurt me here, everything around her seemed to say, but she knew the truth was something else; he could hurt her everywhere, even when he was not present. His presence still lingered in each of her mannerisms, in expressions he used to say and she had taken as her own. It would happen. Some word she had only started to use after he had made a Vessel-shaped hole in her being. A moment of pain. But then, continuing. There was no way but forward.

Dafne waited for him to speak. Almost defiant. Hands glued to her sides, knowing very well she was trembling, resisting the urge to fall on her knees and beg. For another chance. For Death's scythe to break the bond between them. For love, for a final kiss. For a million different things, things she wasn't going to mention, things she would bury deep.

'I could ask the same thing from you. What are you doing here? As far as I know, we are still in Tokyo, and this is where I lived. Not you.'

His next question just made her laugh. There was no happiness in it.

'Kill you? You already know I wouldn't do that. He's watching.' She pointed with a finger towards the sky. Vessel knew of her obsession with religion, even if she was not so much of a believer herself. How weird it was to refer to him as Vessel. Vessel, Vessel, Vessel... his real name felt like a warm hug. This one... like getting soaked with cold water. 'Nobody here dies by my hand.' And it was true. Not by her hand. 'Can't say the same thing about you. The Jack of Spades...' A snap of the tongue. Disappointment impregnating her every word.

About what, truly? About him being one of those who designed the deadly games or... about the conversation not starting with him just taking her into his arms?