#soloveya

[rassvetiye]

     *  @soloveya​

     “ come,  solovey. “  any other names than the ones they were born into have not yet earned their place between them,  but her cryptonym does bare relevance in his reasoning to beckon her out of the rain and past the threshold of his workshop.   “  i have something to show you.  “   while anatoliy waits,  he drags another stool to join his at his station.  

[skulltie]

jim walking up to you at a club: hey me and my girlfriend katya @soloveya saw you from over there and we absolutely fucking hated your vibe, you have a ten second head start before we start hunting you for sport

[predateliya]

@soloveya

vasily picks at the label of the beer - shitty, american and warm. he's sweating. the room they've posted up in has a broken aircon vent and the window doesn't open, which wouldn't help much this high into summer this south of the equator, but still. a breeze, a hint of something. anyway. he nudges the tripod of the sniper rifle with his booted toe. << anything? >>

[vitalphenomena]

@soloveya (x)

All Juniper hears is her own breathing. If her mouth asked Alex-Katya a question, it came from some bizarre auto-pilot system forcing Juniper to react to the present.

She knows violence well, but she doesn't have the stomach for it like her siblings. And her heart — tragically, stupidly, it aches for the man on the pavement, who may or may not be taking in ragged, painful breaths.

"I'll grab my coat," the auto-pilot says, and it walks Juniper, with stilted movements, back into the diner.

//

She re-emerges with her arms wrapped around herself, head whipping back and forth wildly. No police sirens — no shouting. It's so late that nobody else on the block has bothered them.

"Before you ask—" It's unfortunate she prefaces with this. Katya may have had the decency not to get too involved at all. "—I don't know him. I don't know why he was talking to me like that."

[brutlist]

What is on your muses phone? ( apps , photos , contacts , notes , most used emoijs .etc )

apps

he's using one that notifies you of restaurants and local grocers that have great deals on meals that have not been picked up by customers at the end of the day and are pretty much reduced in price significantly to those on a first come first serve basis - he likes to tell his older kids about it so they can let him know whether or not they want to pick it up for their lunch the following day . there's also a buy nothing community app he uses semi regularly to both give and receive unwanted free items. to be honest heugh's not really on his phone a lot . there's the standard social media, fb, twitter , etc photos he's such an old guy lol, lots of scenic pics throughout his travels, sometimes nature pics of the wildlife he runs across and any plants that catch his eye . he's not wholly comfortable with keeping pictures of the people he loves on his phone for obvious reasons . but he does keep some stuff he sees on the internet , products , memes , articles , etc that reminds him of them so he can remember to show it to them / talk to them about it the next time he runs across them . quality time is his love language . notes incomprehensible . miscellaneous numbers and letters that verge on looking familiar maybe an address or math problem maybe , a code to a verification thing, who knows . little reminders for menial things , and some of the more surface level parts of his job . emojis he really enjoys the thumbs up emoji . also this guy :^)

@soloveya

[prozdrljiiv]

"The cat's back again."

Nikolae follows her gaze, and indeed sees what she does. Orange and white, its whiskers glow as it walks through the same sunbeam it has followed all afternoon, the same sunbeam that has been making a solemn march across the floor to a dirge that none can hear. The ancient marble of his ancestral home looks so dingy, so bleak in stark sunlight, as if that golden light shows its true nature. Strays are not unheard of in Mokrija -- it's more that the individual is only seen once.

"Does it bother you?" he asks, himself unsure of what exactly he means. He scans her features for a response, and finds none. She is so difficult to read, even for one as learned as he. He sighs, and turns back towards the window, careful to stand clear of the sunlight. It hurts his eyes even to look, but he hates to show any weakness before her. "I'm not inclined to kick it out myself, you know. In past times, Mokrija had a horrible rat problem." The tile beneath his feet shifts ever so slightly, laughing at their private joke. "Letting in the strays rectifies that." He looks over to her again, something pointed in his gaze, his mouth pressed into a tight grin.

Without warning, he grasps the curtain tie and pulls the bow loose. The curtains flow swiftly -- the fabric of them heavy with exhaustion like everything in the castle is -- and fall across the window, blotting out the last of the sun's damnable light that penetrates the glass that his servants have so lovingly cleaned. The cat bolts, startled by the movement, and disappears around the corner without a sound. In an instant, everything in the room looks new again, sparkling as though never touched by dust. "Do you think I should perhaps make this place more comfortable for them? Give them proper room and board? It seems a shame to have all this space devoid of life, and it's such a valuable service they provide."

[lgbtcorp]

@soloveya: you know, i’m quite skilled in restraints.

if it's a threat, it doesn't go unnoticed, but if it's a passing comment, Iena swills what's left of the scotch in her glass and huffs out a quiet laugh. it's not the first time she's heard that — perhaps less violent than it comes across as, but the sentiment remains. she can do wonders with a length of rope, but it doesn't quite land in the same way, or with the same intention.

a carefree shrug rolls through her shoulders and Iena crosses one leg over the other when she places the tumbler back down on the desk between them.

"as am i. though i assume that's less publicised." oh, the likes of IesIie wiIIis would have a field day — she trashes her enough in the media without adding fuel to the fire, but Iena refuses to be cowed by a thinly-veiled threat that sounds more like a good time than anything. (shit, did she say that out loud? no. good. keep them guessing. straighten your back. for the love of god, keep supergirI out of your mouth. IiIIian has taught her the ins and outs of managing threats. stratagem.)

"so tell me. is that a threat?"

[newsworth]

∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver .

" i do feel obligated to tell you that at least seven other people know that i'm meeting him here tonight, " all the blood on the floor makes it easier for him to keep his eyes on it, easier to fight the instinct to look for her face in the reflection of any of the floor to ceiling windows that make up one side of the office.

" the security guard scanned my id when i walked in, and i'm expected back at my office within the next two hours. if i don't make it- " the spot on his neck that meets the sharpened threat of the blade begins to sting in response to this, which chris takes to mean that she doesn't care. in retrospect, it would've surprised him if she did.

" okay. " he keeps his hands raised to the level of his head, a tight grip on the file folder of notes collected so far. " would it help my case if i said i haven't seen your face yet? "

meme / @soloveya.

[rassvetiye]

❛ why is it safe for you & not for me ? ❜

𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄: DEATHLESS. @soloveya

“  our battles are not the same. you push yourself. and i know, “ anatoliy taps into the soft of his temple and then the center of his chest, the two places where this knowing blooms itself into agony. “ that you do it with no intention to survive. i am only beyond pretending that i don't.   “

until now, this has been no place that he has allowed his mind to wander too far inside the darkness of, for fear of being consumed by the vacancy it threatens to place somewhere deep and unspoken of within him. in spite of its sting, it is still not a dignity that he would place among the graveyard of all others that have been taken from her. of all the other men that have wielded power over her life like a stone, he will not be one. this is simply not how anatoliy's selfishness takes shape.

but there still remain choices that he will not allow to be taken from himself, as well. he does not carve holes into his own heart, for anyone, not anymore.

“  i have no right to deny you a death of your own making, katuschka, but you will not make me your accomplice.   “

[brutlist]

❛ i’m locked inside, trapped inside this body. ❜

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 , 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 , 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 . it's a herculean effort ; he's his hand in it at a time , so he knows . it's hard effort . " i get that . " a choice isn't offered to an entity that transmutes from isn't , to is . what consolation really was there for that . " takes us some time to find what makes us feel free for a few moments worth it , don't it . " @soloveya

[prozdrljiiv]

you're such a violent high, i'm such a loose cannon, can't you see? (x)

@soloveya

[predateliya]

❛ Whenever you stitch yourself up, you do make a bloody mess. ❜

vasily sits at the end of the dining table and listens to papa grumble in the next room, his dinner guest equally snappish but only because katya is sick of the running commentary; there is the telltale snip of scissors, a hiss when the flesh is punctured. who are you to him? she has asked before and vas had only shrugged, quiet and silent and still, the way he has been taught and the way that seems baked into his nature now.

(as a boy he had been forever on the move, always with one foot on the train as papa had described -- these days, he leans more into the foot left on the platform. a short, thick figure who clings onto the shadow and anonymity anatoliy has afforded him almost his entire life; shielded, as it were, by the mystery of the man his father used to be. they have always been honest with each other, haven't they?)

there is more to say from the next room and vas doesn't listen to it; instead, he comes to the doorway and posts up against it, arms crossed tightly, a frown cutting into his forehead. << you're bleeding all over the rug. >> -- feat @soloveya

[rassvetiye]

❛ intent is trivial. ❜

𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄: DEATHLESS, @soloveya

≪ hm. ≫ it may be that anatoliy was meant to be the subject of that sentiment, and this is a fact which does brush at his face. his mind, however, becomes answerable to the distant memories that katya unknowingly asks him to recall. these memories are familiar places to him, even now. he comes to them often to sit in almost consecrated silence and consider what could have been if he had once had the will to let intentions be enough.

≪ i don't think i believe that as much as i once did. ≫ anatoliy separates a larger, jagged piece of shrapnel from the flesh of katya's thigh. he is too practiced at the gesture to expect to see signs of pain inside what reaction meets his eyes as the fragment clatters around the steel inside of the bowl in time with a strangely delicate clap of thunder beyond the walls of his workshop.

that too, reminds him of mariya.

at moments like these when anatoliy's focus takes precedence, the sound of the workshop stays still under the gentle patter of rain upon the roof. otherwise he might have allowed her to put the speakers to the intended use they hadn't seen since the last time she had been inside his home and mistook his grief for disappointment when she claimed she saw no reason to stay in it. now that he knows how fast she is to flee from the voice of such affections, anatoliy will not fixate much on whats implied in her having come to darken the planks of his porch with the blood sapped through those efforts he had refused to see with his own eyes. she's here, and there are wiser uses of this gift.

≪ did i tell you, ≫ he knows he hasn't, but he's as much a stranger to this conversation as she is. anatoliy draws another piece of shrapnel from her thigh, drops it in the bowl. ≪ about the woman i was in love with, and how we left together before the fall. ≫

[rassvetiye]

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐎,    𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.    𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄.

[rassvetiye]

❛ you’re not very good at retiring. ❜ from yekaterina

“ there are worse things to be ... not very good at. ” anatoliy shakes the brick dust from his hands as he steps over the body that creates a gap between them. “ i didn't expect to see you here. this is what happens when we don't tell each other things. ”

𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 : CRIME-THEMED SENTENCE STARTERS , @soloveya

[brutlist]

What are their Christmases usually like? what about Halloween? 

heugh comes alive during the holidays in a way that's soooo big that he's kind of embarrassed of himself ; if you know him and you're lucky, you can catch the instant he's about to start getting super excitable while preparing to decorate or get the kids involved --- it's become more restrained now that he's gotten older and knows how to do these things, but it's nonetheless very , very cute to see that incredibly human side of him thats more detracted from his consistent state of masking. there was more matching costumes when the kids were babies or younger and was still up for that kind of thing. nowadays they hold a household raffle to see what the gag is going to be for that year. things are a lot more coordinated now that the kids have more of a voice. it's gonna break his heart when they start insisting they're too old for that. trick or treating is heugh's lifeblood. he alternates every year between going trick or treating with the kids, and giving out the candy depending on his baseline. heugh is doing christmas shopping all year round so jot that down. it's not a big love language for heugh, but it is something he has a lot of fun doing when it's the holiday season to do so with gift giving. he pays attention.

@soloveya