there are very few sounds that yearn for a heeded attention moreso than a scream. the countess has heard them all, been the gleeful seducer of many, teasing howls of agony from the mouths of men like an unyielding succubus draining their vivacity. suffering seems to beckon her, ever attentive to the woes of others, because it’s the heartbreaks,the bigger, the better !
and so the afflicted herself will thrive on affliction.
it beckons her now, a dear friend ( her fondest creation ) smothered by the embrace of her own blankets, tossing and turning and writhing and clawing and —— the countess is by her bedside, a soundless juxtaposition to the scantily suppressed anguish she bears melancholy witness to.
❛ liz, sweetheart—— its alright, you’re dreaming. ❜ her voice teeters on a metronome of her own making. it’s hypnotic in resonance, stature bending at the waist, the knuckle of a clawed index finger gently testing forehead for spike in temperature. liz’s dormant heart thrums with the clamorous haste of a stampede in her ears, and elizabeth’s own stubborn glacier of a soul begins to thaw.
tenderly, her palm slopes down beyond liz’s temple, cradles her cheek as she offers soft hushes to breach the nightmares, hums a steady tune until she’s sure their cloven hooves have stormed well away and taken the dreaded ephialtes with them. ❛ you’re alright. nobody’s here but me. ❜
ADMITTING IT TO LIZ HAD BEEN THE EASY PART. Admitting it to himself, well, that was highly out of Duffy style. Still, the feeling was there; a caged bird, if you wanted to speak in bouts of fucking clichés. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before,” Another thing easily admitted to the other laying beside him. A glance upward to see her lined eyes and painted lips, his own upturned into a generous grin, saved for a LUCKY FEW. “I didn’t know this is what it would feel like.” A sniff, to hide the sentiment behind those words as he glanced back down at the sheets they shared.
his skin melts into the sheets : an irony of seventy - five degrees & the warmth of her / him never feeling half as hot as her & her never quite as cold. she’s content in the atmosphere of quiet until her lover speaks up, & from it, contentment blooms into something more, his voice just enough to bring them away from their polar temperatures & into each other’s eyes. his words leave a blossoming smile curving the faded rouge of her mouth –––– makeup smudged so by the boy in question –––– & a hand reaching for his. ❛ –––– you & i both, baby. ❜
She looked away. I thought she was looking for another cigarette. Then I saw she was crying. I could feel her crying. Shaking and crying. She wouldn’t look up. I put my arms around her.
smile falters, brow crinkling with a sort of dumb shock/ confusion, the expectance that she’d feel her heart thudding at the last thing she’d thought he would ask her failing to occur & she’s instead met with that rumored nothingness. fingers fall from their feather - light grip on tristan’s cheek to rest on the curve where shoulder & neck meet. answer, after inquiry is fully registered, comes immediately :denial expressed in a question of her own. ❛ –––– why would i do that? ❜
❛ her shade of lipstick is so wack - - - - Personally i’d be depressed . then again the bitch could be miserable who knows ! i like your lipstick though , is it Givenchy Rouge ? wait don’t tell me cause it definitely is . ❜
❛ you can’t judge a book by its cover, i suppose. ❜ nonchalance / indifference melts into tone, as easy & natural as lifting burning cigarette from lips in an exhalation of smoke, as tapping ash into the tray resting on top of the blue parrot’s table. ❛ but –––– it’s certainly not a book i’d like to read. ❜
a dimpled smile crooned ‘pon the golden boy’s lips, waving his hand, which held a half empty red cup, clearing his throat quietly as he gestured. ❛ want some helplookin’ ?? i hate seein’ a lady in distress. ❜
❛ how sweet of you. ❜ smile is reflected, irises halting their incessant search for the woman she’d come with. ❛ –––– though i wouldn’t want to steal you away from your friends. ❜
CALIFORNIA WAS A BUST. everyone knew how it was going to swing in the election. but it was a nice break, she had to admit. the heels of her shoes hooked against the barstool, TAPPING her finger against the martini glass as she looked up at her. ‘ what kind of eyeliner do you use? ‘ she asked, ‘ unless that’s a trade secret. ‘ / @diorbledsc
already spun ‘roundon the point of cork heels to switch out the nearly empty bottle of vermouth for a replenished one, the girl’s question is enough to speed things along. the bottle is grabbed, back no longer turned, with the inklings of a smile on her features. ❛ –––– i think i should be asking you that very same question. your makeup is stunning. ❜
