#parabathai : the darkling.

[svyatoiy-arch]

⊰ CONTINUED FROM HERE, @parabathai.

       ❛   WHAT SHOCK THIS IS TO ME!   I DIDN’T BELIEVE A RULER AS JUST AS YOURSELF COULD BE SO HYPOCRITICAL.   ❜      sarcasm,  a language learnt and perfected in the encampments of the first army,  rolls off her tongue in response   ─   what flickers and grows in the pit of her stomach is neither shock nor disappointment, but a molten frustration threatening to blaze.    like the ache of a thorn in her side the darkling appears when she least desires it, pricking & prodding at her until at last her resolve gives way and she snaps.

        the maps and forms on her desk are forgotten in the wake of his looming shadow encroaching on her peace,  her own figure crossing the wooden floor to reach him with determined steps.     the letter held captive in his palm she snatches from his grasp,  turning it over as if searching for proof of him having read it ─ a letter meant only to test him there is no use in dispatching it, filled with half-lies & poorly concealed attempts at mockery as it were.     gaze lifts to meet his chill stare,  her own detached in response.     she rips the letter in half, then in half again,  and again,  until she at last throws the pieces into the hearth.      behind her back they scorch & burn,  turn to ashes & smoke, all while she considers the spectre hovering in her doorway.      ❛   all missives but yours,  you mean?   ❜

[svyatoiy-arch]

SPOTIFY WRAPPED STARTERS    ⊱    @parabathai​​    (  19.  PARIS  ─  TAYLOR SWIFT  )

       ❛   WORRIED I’LL CONFESS MY TRUTH IN SWOOPING,  SLOPING,  CURSIVE LETTERS?   ❜      a pointed tone and look accompany these targeted words,  though her assumption is meant not to harm nor wound but merely to sway him into offering her whatever little leeway she’s able to grasp.     their war is no longer fought on the battlefields of ravka,  but within the fragile luxury of the little palace.     this evening’s skirmish takes place within the four walls of his war room,  a darkened space whose threshold she rarely crosses   ─   only when there is something to be won.

       ❛   all i am asking is that you let me write to my friends in private.   so long as you promise me you will stop intercepting my letters,  i’ll play along.   ❜

[svyatoiy-arch]

⊰     SHADOW AND BONE PROMPTS.      ⊱     ACCEPTING.

what little warmth the sun gave to stave off the fjerdan chill had dissipated with the ever-encroaching darkness of night    &  now even the sun summoner,  whose body seemed to function as its own furnace,  feels the cold creep in.     it is like a heavy weight in her veins,  as if the blood that runs there has frozen over,  and when she moves it is slowly,  fearful what little heat there is left in her chest will  evaporate  if she exerts too much energy.     beyond her shoulder,   there is a figure shrouded in darkness despite the blazing bonfire at his feet   ─   she has not looked at him once since they set up camp,  yet he occupies every crevice and each corner of her mind.     to strike him down and leave under the cover of night  &  pay the consequences     (  and there are consequences to be sure;   he has laid them out before her countless times,  detailed to perfection by his cool tongue  )     or to remain as she is now,  shivering by his side.     she blames the cold for her inactivity.

when  @parabathai​  speaks,   alina supposes it is only because the silence bores him  &  he now wants to taunt her for his own amusement.     it would not be beneath him to do so.      ❛   i am just trying to keep warm.   you should join me.   ❜

a bitter laugh slips from her lips,    the sound of it low and hidden amongst the wildlife of the woods but all the while visible in the cloud of warm air floating from her mouth.      ❛   i'll keep my distance,   ❜      alina says,  a glare sent over her shoulder.     he looks rather comfortable where he sits,  and not at all as weary as she feels.     she steels herself against the sight  &  tears her gaze away,  but before she pulls the cold fabric of her scarf over her mouth,  she bites back:      ❛   i find death by freezing much preferable to your company.   ❜

there is no way to tell the time under the blanket of fjerda's winter sky.    not for alina,  at least,  who is unsure whether she has walked in circles around the darkling and his flames for hours or mere minutes.     the clearing bears evidence of time well spent.     one would have to look closely to find even a tuft of snow not trampled by the sun summoner's stubborn feet.     every now and then a glance is stolen in his direction   ─   sometimes he catches her gaze with a smirk,  others he is warming his bare hands against the flames.     now he looks at her not with an amused expression;   rather the darkling appears to be exacerbated  &  annoyed.     as childish as it is,  alina feels finally that she has won something.     she may have lost the war,  but at least he is  not as immune  to her as he likes to pretend.      ❛   fine.   ❜      she growls,  feet crossing the clearing in a beat.     sat upon the log before the fire at least,  she sags against aleksandr’s side as the flames lick the ice from her hands.      ❛   now will you tell me what we've come here for?   not another amplifier,  i hope.   ❜

[svyatoiy-arch]

                  ❴  ❊ ˒    THE LANGUAGE OF THORNS.   ⊰     ACCEPTING!

       IT IS NOT AN UNCOMMON OCCURRENCE THAT A MEETING BETWEEN THE TWO FIGUREHEADS OF RAVKA,    public or private,  official or not,  are cut short by some wayward disaccord or dispute.     whether they be armed with words or swords the tsar and tsaritsa are well-versed in the act of quarreling,  with each other more than any other.     but for the evening their weapons have been left at the door,  his acceptance of her invitation to dine with her in her chambers the first step of many to find common ground on which to forge a truce  ─  one she hopes might last longer than their last.

       ❛   you think to love a monster?   ❜       asks  @parabathai​,  his dark-clothed figure at the far end of the table a looming specter,  a reminder of all she has done and all she has yet to do.     the sun summoner is not shocked at his inquiry,  and she does not pretend to be either.     (  for her husband,  as shrouded in mystery  &  secrecy as he is and always will be,  is no stranger to her.     she knows him well now,  as he does her.     it is a difficult feat to look in a mirror for a hundred years and not learn the intricacies of your reflection.  )     instead all she does is let her cutlery fall from her grasp,  the clatter of silver and porcelain hiding the sound of her deep sigh.      ❛   i think to love no one.   that is the way you taught me.   ❜

        it is difficult to reconcile the young woman so eager to please him with the being she is now.   it is easier to count them as two people:   ALINA THE ORPHAN  &  ALINA THE SAINT.      ❛   but i have grown weary of hatred,  and it is now time to cast it aside.   ❜       but easier does not mean it is the truth:   still there are parts of that orphan girl left within her,  and they yearn for the company and the presence of another  ─  though rich in currency  &  might,  sankta alina is poorer than most when it comes to free will.      ❛   i believe it says more about you than it does about me that the absence of my hate feels so much like love.  ❜       but is not love the act of seeing the hideous monsters hidden in the shadows and crevices of one’s being and letting it live─  letting it fester,  LIKE A WOUND?     if so,  she is guilty.

       ❛   what you suspect to be love is in truth little more than resignation.   i am as bound to you,  darkling,  as you are bound to me   ─   it is a curse neither of us are likely to break.   ❜