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( she waits for the rise of her righteous anger, or crippling embarrassment, or — anything she should feel, really. finds she's disappointed when nothing breaches topsoil, doesn't so much as accomplish more than tapping inside of its coffin door, pointlessly clawing to break free from where it's buried graveyard deep. )
I think ... it's helped me see you.
Like if I look at you for longer than anyone else has, I'll know you like no one could.
Like I'll know you in ways even you can't know yourself.
( it's no coincidence that her sketchbooks are her own private art gallery of paul atreides, in various character studies. at peace while he sleeps — too rare for alina not to have penciled it. the concentrated divot between his brows, etched there by a book in his lap. his bright smiles, like a comet event — meant to be seen, in case you don't see it again for a hundred years. the parts of his body that have taken care of her best: calloused hands, puppy-love eyes, dimpled smiles. a thousand hidden words and secrets in every brushstroke, every penciled line.
everything she can't draw, now. not just because her enjoyment of anything has turned non-existent, but — for fear that anything she creates will feel tainted, in the aftermath of what's been done to them. in the aftermath of what she's done, above all. )
I think ... it's helped me see you.
Like if I look at you for longer than anyone else has, I'll know you like no one could.
Like I'll know you in ways even you can't know yourself.
( it's no coincidence that her sketchbooks are her own private art gallery of paul atreides, in various character studies. at peace while he sleeps — too rare for alina not to have penciled it. the concentrated divot between his brows, etched there by a book in his lap. his bright smiles, like a comet event — meant to be seen, in case you don't see it again for a hundred years. the parts of his body that have taken care of her best: calloused hands, puppy-love eyes, dimpled smiles. a thousand hidden words and secrets in every brushstroke, every penciled line.
everything she can't draw, now. not just because her enjoyment of anything has turned non-existent, but — for fear that anything she creates will feel tainted, in the aftermath of what's been done to them. in the aftermath of what she's done, above all. )
Edited (jk i hated the flow of this tag so im editing it twice dont kill me pls ) 2024-11-06 05:23 (UTC)
( she thinks of not saying it. it'd be easy to delete the words blinking back at her on the screen, but what's the point? it's taken him this long to figure out on his own, but he will soon, if he hasn't already. )
If you saw yourself how you should, you wouldn't be with me.
If you saw yourself how you should, you wouldn't be with me.
Ravka befuddles me. It seems all edges and yet you are from it, and you're warm.
Arrakis laces all food with spice, so it hardly matters how it tastes. A bit like sand, all round.
I prefer the food here.
Have you eaten?
I meant in general. Away from your bed. [Where Alia has curled herself on cold sheets, mouse-small, night after night.]
I'll tell him. I think I want blue, but all I have is the wrong shades. You can't use regular paint on nails, can you?
Arrakis laces all food with spice, so it hardly matters how it tastes. A bit like sand, all round.
I prefer the food here.
Have you eaten?
I meant in general. Away from your bed. [Where Alia has curled herself on cold sheets, mouse-small, night after night.]
I'll tell him. I think I want blue, but all I have is the wrong shades. You can't use regular paint on nails, can you?
Torment, then. Betrayal. There are other ways to break a man's heart.
[ aemond has, despite appearances, only lead himself through life. raised himself in the absence of his mother's softness, taught himself under the watchful and stern eye of his grandsire. ser criston had hardened him against womanly touch, and aegon — what can he say about aegon? his brother whom he loves and hates equally. how many times has aegon broken his heart? how many times has he picked up the remnants of his trust and rebuilt it for him again?
the realm falls in step behind him because of fear. and that fear is rooted in his refusal to be mastered by anyone. the realm will never love him — so let them fear the hurts he can inflict.
he is a better weapon than he is a son. ]
What would you like for him to suffer?
[ aemond has, despite appearances, only lead himself through life. raised himself in the absence of his mother's softness, taught himself under the watchful and stern eye of his grandsire. ser criston had hardened him against womanly touch, and aegon — what can he say about aegon? his brother whom he loves and hates equally. how many times has aegon broken his heart? how many times has he picked up the remnants of his trust and rebuilt it for him again?
the realm falls in step behind him because of fear. and that fear is rooted in his refusal to be mastered by anyone. the realm will never love him — so let them fear the hurts he can inflict.
he is a better weapon than he is a son. ]
What would you like for him to suffer?
You don't know what you're talking about.
The game lent me that power. I wasn't the only one it burdened.
( which is — only a hair's breadth away from the truth. close enough that alina's twinge of guilt is inconsequential, smothered beneath a swell of panic. )
Are you planning to accuse the seers of being nefarious next?
The game lent me that power. I wasn't the only one it burdened.
( which is — only a hair's breadth away from the truth. close enough that alina's twinge of guilt is inconsequential, smothered beneath a swell of panic. )
Are you planning to accuse the seers of being nefarious next?
( i have edges, she thinks, in the quiet gloom. you and paul can't stop cutting yourself open on them. not like briars on a plucked rose, soft and beautiful, but glass shards scattered on a wooden floor, disassembled and broken by someone else. a irreparable mess, and not their own to clean, despite how often they try to pick her up and cradle her in a palm. despite the fact they must know, by now, it will always hurt them.
after a stagnant pause: )
You don't have to make yourself my keeper, Alia.
after a stagnant pause: )
You don't have to make yourself my keeper, Alia.
Either you think I'm stupid, or you honestly believe that. You denied yourself for so many years, I shouldn't be surprised if you willingly pull wool over your own eyes.
The seers are not Grisha. I care not how they wield their power.
Or if it corrupts them.
The seers are not Grisha. I care not how they wield their power.
Or if it corrupts them.
I'm nothing like him.
( that's what zoya's needling at, after all, isn't it? fully aware that it's a scab that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds, the more it's picked at — but she's never been one to shy from digging her hands into her gouges and bruises. mal is proof enough of it.
she hates her more for it, but not nearly as much as she hates that it's an echo of her own thoughts, as if she's shouted all of her insecurities into a well and has to hear them spit back up at her. an incessant, ringing reminder of what she's done. )
If this is what your idea of caring looks like, I'd rather we go back to the way we were before.
At least it felt more honest than this.
( that's what zoya's needling at, after all, isn't it? fully aware that it's a scab that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds, the more it's picked at — but she's never been one to shy from digging her hands into her gouges and bruises. mal is proof enough of it.
she hates her more for it, but not nearly as much as she hates that it's an echo of her own thoughts, as if she's shouted all of her insecurities into a well and has to hear them spit back up at her. an incessant, ringing reminder of what she's done. )
If this is what your idea of caring looks like, I'd rather we go back to the way we were before.
At least it felt more honest than this.
Neither of them are as dangerous as stupid girls.
( self-loathing bleeds her more than the sharp curve of a knife ever had. the darkling. hawkins fuller. david collins. danny johnson. every man she hadn't taken for a wolf until it was too late to ignore the glint of canines in the dark, oblivious to an obvious threat. she shakes her head, like it might shake free the wool from her eyes, her permanent blindness to their intentions.
her fingers drift from alicent, a slow fall — like even that small uptick in energy exsanginuates what's left of her strength. when the rage empties, all she has is — this. too much space to fill inside of her. the invading grief that follows like an overgrowth of weeds, strangling anything else that tries to grow. the feeble cold that tries to seep into her bones, her warmth smothered under the thin layer of merzost lingering in her soul.
she drifts to the window, sifting her fingers beneath the straining october sunlight, just to feel its kiss on her skin. just to watch the light refract from paul's father's ring, turning metal-warm, as she spins it around her finger )
You were wrong to say I haven't sacrificed. ( numbly matter-of-fact, resigned to the truth wedged between them like a double-edged sword. alina can't move forward without impaling herself on it, without thinking of alicent's cutting condemnation. ) I thought I could escape it here. I thought ...
( her voice trails off, a pensive heartbeat of thought. )
I thought I could be free from making the hard choices, the decisions everyone else seems to suffer for. But the shadow of it follows me everywhere.
( it should be me, she doesn't say, but the truth remains: there isn't a single soul that hasn't met their punishment for following her. genya, marred. nikolai, monstrous. mal, fated for death. every fallen grisha crumpled under rubble, every soldier she couldn't save from the darkling's slaughter. wetly, she exhales. )
Thinking I could be anyone but who I am — it's never worked. I don't know why I thought it would be different for me, this time.
( self-loathing bleeds her more than the sharp curve of a knife ever had. the darkling. hawkins fuller. david collins. danny johnson. every man she hadn't taken for a wolf until it was too late to ignore the glint of canines in the dark, oblivious to an obvious threat. she shakes her head, like it might shake free the wool from her eyes, her permanent blindness to their intentions.
her fingers drift from alicent, a slow fall — like even that small uptick in energy exsanginuates what's left of her strength. when the rage empties, all she has is — this. too much space to fill inside of her. the invading grief that follows like an overgrowth of weeds, strangling anything else that tries to grow. the feeble cold that tries to seep into her bones, her warmth smothered under the thin layer of merzost lingering in her soul.
she drifts to the window, sifting her fingers beneath the straining october sunlight, just to feel its kiss on her skin. just to watch the light refract from paul's father's ring, turning metal-warm, as she spins it around her finger )
You were wrong to say I haven't sacrificed. ( numbly matter-of-fact, resigned to the truth wedged between them like a double-edged sword. alina can't move forward without impaling herself on it, without thinking of alicent's cutting condemnation. ) I thought I could escape it here. I thought ...
( her voice trails off, a pensive heartbeat of thought. )
I thought I could be free from making the hard choices, the decisions everyone else seems to suffer for. But the shadow of it follows me everywhere.
( it should be me, she doesn't say, but the truth remains: there isn't a single soul that hasn't met their punishment for following her. genya, marred. nikolai, monstrous. mal, fated for death. every fallen grisha crumpled under rubble, every soldier she couldn't save from the darkling's slaughter. wetly, she exhales. )
Thinking I could be anyone but who I am — it's never worked. I don't know why I thought it would be different for me, this time.
Edited 2024-11-10 05:11 (UTC)
congratulations on your bookstore, alina! ♥ i can't wait to come visit!
i have a little present for you and your first customers. a big batch of them! you can hand them out, or of course keep as many for yourself as you'd like.
i hope you like them. let me know if i can support your store in any way. i'd be happy to supply you with treats any time.
i'm proud of you!
i have a little present for you and your first customers. a big batch of them! you can hand them out, or of course keep as many for yourself as you'd like.
i hope you like them. let me know if i can support your store in any way. i'd be happy to supply you with treats any time.
i'm proud of you!
I wasn't looking for you at all. You came to me.
You really haven't changed at all, if you're still blaming me for what you started.
( clinging to that petty rivalry with her teeth might be the most normalcy she's seen, since the werewolves' hunt ended — in some sick sense, she supposes she should thank zoya for that, even as she digs between alina's ribs. an unrepentant hound, looking for whatever bone of truth alina has buried. to sniff out new ways to judge her as lesser, not nearly good enough, knowing zoya's penchant for sinking her teeth into old scars. )
I'm not your problem.
We're not even real allies, here. I'm not the Sun Summoner anymore. You have no need for me.
You just like poking your finger into wounds. You always have.
You really haven't changed at all, if you're still blaming me for what you started.
( clinging to that petty rivalry with her teeth might be the most normalcy she's seen, since the werewolves' hunt ended — in some sick sense, she supposes she should thank zoya for that, even as she digs between alina's ribs. an unrepentant hound, looking for whatever bone of truth alina has buried. to sniff out new ways to judge her as lesser, not nearly good enough, knowing zoya's penchant for sinking her teeth into old scars. )
I'm not your problem.
We're not even real allies, here. I'm not the Sun Summoner anymore. You have no need for me.
You just like poking your finger into wounds. You always have.
And you've always lacked the compassion to be a good one.
Don't fool yourself, Nazyalensky. I was Nikolai's first choice.
He never bothered to ever mention you. And do you know why? Because I'll always be his first choice.
Enjoy the taste of my leftovers. You usually do.
Don't fool yourself, Nazyalensky. I was Nikolai's first choice.
He never bothered to ever mention you. And do you know why? Because I'll always be his first choice.
Enjoy the taste of my leftovers. You usually do.
( her mind whirls through a spin cycle of thoughts. in chronological order, the first: did they have to be shaped as hearts? nami is going to brutally murder her and leave her scattered in the woods. the second: in true sanji fashion, it's overwhelmingly generous — the kind of favor that would demand repayment, or her good favor, if he were less selfless. the third: she can't recall a single person ever speaking those words to her — i'm proud of you, sweet and simple, but as meaningfully layered as any cake she's watched sanji design.
not ana kuya. not baghra, who would dissolve into ash if she even tried to utter them. not mal, or genya, or nikolai — not even the darkling, for all that he had nurtured her power like a favored pet eating kibble from his palm. stupidly, alina's eyes prick with hot moisture for a blip of a second, batted away before wet dew can collect on her eyelashes. )
Oh.
These are
You didn't have to — not that I don't appreciate it, it's only
( — that it's too much. that most kindnesses she's known have come with puppet strings attached to manipulate her. )
not ana kuya. not baghra, who would dissolve into ash if she even tried to utter them. not mal, or genya, or nikolai — not even the darkling, for all that he had nurtured her power like a favored pet eating kibble from his palm. stupidly, alina's eyes prick with hot moisture for a blip of a second, batted away before wet dew can collect on her eyelashes. )
Oh.
These are
You didn't have to — not that I don't appreciate it, it's only
( — that it's too much. that most kindnesses she's known have come with puppet strings attached to manipulate her. )
( okay, well. that's a lot of waggy-tailed puppy enthusiasm. endearing, if not a little worrying, for how quick he is to make himself an available tool. after a small, fussy pause, )
Do you know how to make tea taste better?
I think this thing keeps eating whatever scraps it can find in the kitchen cabinets, and it's
( nasty swill, with no regard for flavor, but her chubby bird is equally so zealous about it that she feels guilty saying a single terrible thing about its attempts. )
Well, it's not really that good, but I don't know what to feed it.
Do you know how to make tea taste better?
I think this thing keeps eating whatever scraps it can find in the kitchen cabinets, and it's
( nasty swill, with no regard for flavor, but her chubby bird is equally so zealous about it that she feels guilty saying a single terrible thing about its attempts. )
Well, it's not really that good, but I don't know what to feed it.
well. i can tell you how to make tea. you boil fresh water, pour it into a teapot that's been pre-warmed. the bubbles with circulate the tea leaves and bring out their fresh color and aroma. then you cover the pot immediately and let it steam. when you pour your tea, make sure your cups are also pre-warmed. if you deviate from these steps, it can significantly alter the taste.
now, if it's a matter of that new bird you won not eating properly... it might be like the kitchen rats. since they're used to the caliber of cuisine of the chefs that've passed through the kitchens over the years, they can be fussy.
i could make a sampler tray, with different nibbles to try? really, more of the same things i would feed my rats. they eat well!
now, if it's a matter of that new bird you won not eating properly... it might be like the kitchen rats. since they're used to the caliber of cuisine of the chefs that've passed through the kitchens over the years, they can be fussy.
i could make a sampler tray, with different nibbles to try? really, more of the same things i would feed my rats. they eat well!
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