* sightstruck.

                   It’s been weeks without a word from Queenie, and a member of her council going missing isn’t something Cordelia can just ignore. So of course she went looking, leaving Zoe in charge of the girls, ending her search at the Cortez. She walks carefully towards the front desk, shoes silently tapping against the carpet. “Excuse me.” Brown eyes rest on the other’s features, she does not hesitate when she speaks, a polite smile traces her lips, though the fact she can sense something is off makes this small peace offering rather… Fragile. “I’m sorry-” She says it as if the room is filled with people, as if just standing in front of the other is taking the stranger away from more important work. “A student of mine had a room here a few days ago, I was wondering if she checked out?”

                             ^{CHECKED   OUT   was   an   understatement.   almost   immediately,   the   other’s   face   is   placed,   &   consequently   recognized   as   cordelia   goode  :   the   supreme   of   the   coven   to   which   the   witch   in   question   belonged.   &   with   this   realization   comes   the   unfamiliar   prickle   of   nervousness.   iris   &   her   hardly   stopped   to   think   about   the   fact   that   someone   was   bound   to   come   looking   for   queenie,   &   now,   that   stumble   of   a   misstep   was   coming   back   to   bite   her   in   the   ass.   but   any   culpability   that   may   alter   features   from   nonchalant   &   complacent   is   quickly   dissolved,   in   favor   of   an   expression   that   doesn’t   outright   spell   guilty.   smoldering   cigarette   is   lifted   to   lips,   drag   taken   purposely   slow,   in   an   effort   to   aide   the   facade   being   painted,   brows   lifting   lazily.       ❛           –––   name  ?           ❜}

(Source: sightstruck-blog)

* recklessdevotion.

Donovan headed into the bar, pissed at himself. This was the second time the Countess had left him to go hunting just to hunt. He didn’t see the need to go, though he could feel the Countess slipping farther and farther away from him. Liz had told him to just go with it, you know how she gets, she’d reminded him (as if he’d needed reminding). Now here he was– alone– on a Saturday night. Again. With a huff, he sat down, looking up at Liz as she poured him his favorite drink.

“Go ahead. Say I told you so.”

                                    ^{at   the   heavy   steps   sounding   on   the   staircase,   the   newly - lit   cigarette   within   her   grasp   is   given   a   quick   drag,   &   then   promptly  moved   to   between   clenched   teeth.   she   recognizes   those   downtrodden   footfalls   anywhere,   &   she   has   a   peculiar   feeling   that   he   needs   a   drink.   novel   is   set   aside   for   the   time   being,   &   as   the   approaching   boy   aims   for   a   seat   in   the   lounge,   liz   is   up   &   pouring   a   drink.   the   shaker’s   stream   soon   trickles   to   a   slow   stop   &   the   full   glass   is   set   down   in   front   of   the   brooding   other   with   a   tink.   a   hint   of   smugness   twinges   lips   into   the   slightest   of   cynical   smiles,   smoke   coming   to   rest   in   its   previous   position,   as   she   concedes   to   fulfill   donovan’s   request,       ❛          –––   i   told   you   so.          ❜}

* sapphicwinters.

        _{“ this place gives me the creeps. “} 

         ^{❛        ––   no   one’s   forcing   you   to   stay.        ❜}

(Source: sapphicwinters-blog)

* rcsetinted.

▒  ∴   DIORBLED   ∴   ▒

                  _{❝    I  gotta  tell  ya,    I  didn’t  read  much,    ❞    Confession  was  announced  in  QUIET  TONE,    Columbia’s  abashment  to  admit  so  apparent.    ❝    Always  thought  I  had  BETTER  THINGS  to  do,    y’know    ???    ❞    she  added  in  a  HALFHEARTED  ATTEMPT  to  defend  her  past  choices.}

                              ^{❛          it’s   nothing   to   beat   yourself   up   about.          ❜          composed   is   her   stature   at   columbia’s   admission,   &   to   soothe   is   her   tone’s   directive.   to   further   such   a   point,   shoulders   (   draped   in   black   )   lift   in   a   shrug,   cigarette   coming   away   from   her   mouth   in   a   cloud   of   smoke.         ❛           this   may   shock   you,   but   i   hardly   ever   picked   up   a   book   before   i   moved   out   here.           ❜}

(Source: rcsetinted-a-blog)

rcsetinted.

                     _{Columbia’s  head  shook  BACK  AND  FORTH,      dismissing  Liz’s  attempts  to  blame  herself  before  she  could  even  finish  VOCALIZING  THEM.    ❝    You  know  this  isn’t  your  fault,    ❞    she  said  in  a  FIRM  TONE.    ❝    I  know  this  isn’t  your  fault,    ❞    she  added,    HOPING  that  her  feeble  attempts  to  assure  Liz  where  the  blaming  TRULY  LAID  was  not  upon  her  shoulders.    Though  she  was  no  naive  thing  whom  BELIEVED  that  merely  repeating  what  SHE  KNEW  to  be  true  time  and  time  again  would  have  no  affect.    Grief  made  people  IRRATIONAL,   and  she  doubted  that  anything  would  ever  be  able  to  convince  her  otherwise.    And  that  revelation  PAINED  HER  so.    At  the  sound  of  the  other’s  soft  tone  speaking  once  again,    a  STRING  of  denials  poured  from  pink  lips.    ❝    You  could  NEVER  burden  me,    ❞    Columbia  said  in  the  same  comforting,    FIRM  voice.    ❝    Liz,    believe  me,    you  could  never,    ❞    she  murmured,    standing  up  to  easier  embrace  the  broken  woman  before  her.    ❝    You’re  the  best  person  in  my  life,    you  could  never  burden  me,    ❞}

                                                                   ^{DESPITE   HERSELF   ––   despite   the   streaks   of   tears   drying   upon   cheeks,   &   the   heavy   weight   of   grief   on   shoulders   ––   the   faintest   of   smiles   is   cracked   at   columbia’s   heartfelt   remark.   to   know   that   someone   still   loved   her   was   something   she   didn’t   realize   she’d   needed   to   hear   until   those   simple   words   of   reassurance   tumbled   from   the   younger’s   lips.   with   the   countess’s   heart   seemingly   turned   away   from   her    (   &   the   glinting   cool   metal   of   a   reaper’s   glove   now   facing   her   instead   ),   the   ice - cold   understanding   that   columbia   may   be   the   only   one   she   has   left   cements   within   her.   though   expression   remains   hidden,   shrouded   in   the   crook   of   the   embrace,   it   exists   ––   &   what   a   feat   that   was   alone.   composure,   in   slight   &   as   much   as   she   could   muster   at   that   precise   moment,   is   regained,   however   her   mind   may   whirl.   concealed   briefly   in   columbia’s   arms   is   where   the   semblance   of   comfort   is   found,   allowing   for   the   prevailing   of   calmer   heads.   a   soft   pat   on   the   arm   signals   that   she’s   okay    ––   or   at   least   okay   enough   to   recover   from   that   bumbling,   crying   mess   she   once   was.             ❛            –––   thank   you.            ❜}

(Source: rcsetinted-a-blog, via rcsetinted-a-blog)

* fullcfrage.

                          ^{sounds   of   her   laughter   had   him   tracing   her   features   with   careful   green   eyes,   childish   bashfulness   flushing   his   cheeks.   head   dropping   forward,   a   flash   of   tongue   wets   his   lips   before   he   managed   to   grin   as   well.         ❛           bullshit.           ❜         managing   to   stifle   a   similar   sound,   fingers   extend   to   apply   another   shaky   stroke   of   blue.         ❛           you   want   a   flower   or   something   next?           ❜}

                                             ^{free   hand   comes   up   to   a   light   hold   of   her   cheek,   elbow   used   as   a   prop.   teasing,   a   nude   mouth   thinning   in   faux   contemplation,   she   hums,   a   soft   resonation   of   amusement.   gaze   breaks   away   from   tristan’s,   &   instead   drifts   to   his   handiwork,   brows   lifting   in   slight.        ❛         mm,   i   don’t   know.  .  .         ❜       cloying   are   her   tones,   smile   tainting   the   expression   of   sincereness   she’s   attempting   to   convey.        ❛           you   sure   you’re   up   for   the   challenge ?           ❜}

(via fullcfrage)

                         ^{WORDLESS    ––     quiet   contempt   shrouded   in   features   drawn   nonchalant     ––     the  usual   is   set   before   the   countess   :   the   sharp   noise   of   glass   against   marble   ringing   out   like  thunder   in   the   tense   atmosphere.   purposely   slowed,   stilettoed   steps   waver   back   to   her   own   stool,   back   turned   as   soon   as   duty   as   bartender   is   completed.   the   intention   to   speak   is   null   ;   with   nothing   but   angry   lashes   lacing   her   tongue  (   &   the   other’s   shimmering   glove,   fraught   with   death,   not   going   unnoticed   ),   she   deems   it   wise   to   keep   her   mouth   shut.   de   profundis   is  reopened,   spine   resting   on   the   curve   of   her   palm,   but   pages   remained   unturned     ––     if    only   to   avoid   the   other’s   gaze.        //      @timelesscreature    (   sc.   )}

* rcsetinted.

                    _{Columbia  took  MEEK,    SMALL  steps  behind  Liz,    arms  outstretched  with  the  intention  to  catch  her  if  she  lost  her  footing    (  which  would  be  NO  SURPRISE  as  she  stumbled  around  so  ).    Small  frame  was  SLOWLY  LOWERED  into  a  kneel  onto  the  dirtied  carpet,    hands  resting  upon  the  older  woman’s  thigh.    Eyes  were  QUICK  TO  WIDEN  once  the  truth  that  Liz  blamed  herself  was  vocalized.    Her  palms  quickly  moved  to  grasp  either  of  Liz’s  forearms.    ❝    NO,    it  isn’t,    ❞    she  said  in  a  firm  voice.    ❝    You  saw  the  best  in  her,    it  isn’t  YOUR  FAULT  that  she  isn’t  what  you  thought,    ❞    Anger  directed  towards  the  woman  who  had  WRONGED  her  friend  so  severely  flared  within  her  chest.    ❝    This  is  not  your  fault,    ❞    she  said  again.    ❝    SHE  did  this,    and  she’ll  get  what’s  comin’,    ❞    Columbia’s  voice  grew  quieter  with  each  word  as  a  LUMP  formed  in  her  throat.    It  was  just  so  wrong.    What  kind  of  universe  would  allow  such  an  INJUSTICE  OCCUR    ???    Columbia  took  a  deep  breath  and  wiped  at  the  corners  of  her  eyes  to  catch  the  tears  which  had  BEGUN  TO  BUD  yet  again.    Why  couldn’t  she  just  keep  herself  together  for  Liz    ???}

                                 ^{ATTEMPT   after   fruitless   attempt   to   stop   the   tears   rolling   down   splotchy   cheeks,    she’s   given   up   :    hopeless   endeavors   to   gather   herself,   to   square   her   shoulders   &   pretend   to   be   okay,   ceasing.   the   previous   desire   to   keep   up   the   act   of   normalcy   for   columbia’s   sake   is    gone,   a   broken,    aching    heart    now   ruling   where   a   once   wise,   world - weary   mind   had   resided.   a   feeble   protest   to   the   younger’s   resolute   statements   is   expressed   through   the   shaking   of   her   head,   hands   parting   from   their   light   hold.          ❛          i   should’ve   never   even     –––          ❜          stopping,   unable   to  continue,   the    bitter   tang   of   regret   pooling   ‘pon   her   tongue,   ridden   with   denial   &   blame.   tristan’s   blood   is   on   her   hands   :   an   irrefutable   fact   set   out   to   plague   her   bleeding   heart.   a   heavy   shudder   of   a   sigh   harrows   a   frail   chest,   an   effort   to   catch   her   breath,   &   without   fully   realizing   the   weight   of   her   actions,   she   rests   stained   palms   on   top   of   columbia’s.   at   long   last,   she   manages   to   make   some   semblance   of   eye   contact   with   the   younger    ––     fleeting,   but   there     ––     makeup  in   ruins,   with   words   still   but   a   meager   whisper,              ❛          i’m   sorry      ––      i   don’t   mean   to  .  .  .  burden   you   like   this.         ❜}

(Source: rcsetinted-a-blog, via rcsetinted-a-blog)

* fullcfrage.

                          ^{any   other   time   he   decided   to   be   there,   perched   upon   the   cushions,   feet   were   kicked   up   onto   something   nearby   –   this   time,   they   remained   flat   on   the   floor.   for   once   taking   in   the   atmosphere   of   the   cortez,   there   wasn’t   anything   that   could   numb   that   uncomfortable   experience   prior   to   his   arrival.}

                          ^{power had   been   one   of   the   more   attractive   components   with   agreeing   to   harbor   the   virus.   being   the   countess’   sex   slave   to   further   her   personal   gain   however,   held   no   interest   to   him.   but   tristan   wanted   to   keep   his   head…   specifically   for   the   woman   stepping   into   the   lobby.   too   late   to   let   the   uncomfortable   knot   in   his   brow   go,   callused   fingers   mussed   through   stained   locks.   glancing   to   her,   his   mouth   felt   dry.         ❛           –   shit   happened.   that’s   it.           ❜}

                  ^{previously   halted,  stilettoed   feet   begin   to   tread   carefully   upon   worn   geometric   carpet.   she   strides   to   perch   next   to   tristan   on   the   couch,   palm   coming   to   rest   ‘pon   his   thigh   :   a   gesture   of   comfort   void   of   ill - intentions.   the   lobby   is   empty,   spare   the   pair,   &   the   risk   they   run   of   being   caught   red - handed   is   pushed   aside   as    concern    blossoms.}

                  ^{silently   &   with   a   keen   eye,   her   gaze   is   cast   to   meet   his,   nearly   hidden   beneath   a   furrowed   brow.   never   before   has   she   seen   the    other    this    upset,   &   for   that   reason,   she   continues   with   a   certain   amount   of   heed.        ❛         ––    okay.  .  .         ❜        she   leads   in,   tone  soft,   but  inquiring,   nonetheless.   words   lack   the   familiar   patronizing   notes   often    found   within   her   speech   when   consoling   anyone   else.        ❛         would   you   care   to   elaborate ?         ❜}

(via fullcfrage)

* rcsetinted.

                   _{She  watched  the  other  woman  with  CONFUSION  as  she  slipped  out  of  her  comforting  embrace.    Columbia  was  QUICK  TO  UNDERSTAND  that  Liz  had  done  so  to  collect  herself.    At  this  realization                     the  former  groupie  took  a  deep  breath  and  wiped  away  at  the  tears  which  had  been  pouring  down  made  up  cheeks.    Porcelain  ivories  bit  down  upon  GLOSSED,    QUIVERING  LIPS  in  a  failed  attempt  to  calm  herself  for  the  other’s  sake.    TEAR  FLOODED  optics  grew  wide  at  Liz’s  response.    As  someone  who  KNEW  LIZ                     it  was  apparent  to  her  the  gravity  which  weighed  down  that  sentence.    Pride  SWELLED  in  her  chest  at  the  other’s  capability  of  detaching  from  the  one  who  had  done  her  wrong  so  quickly    (  not  EVERYONE  was  capable  of  refusing  forgiveness  to  those  people  ).    ❝    No,    she  DOESN’T,    ❞    she  replied  coldly,    fists  clenching  at  her  side.    Was  that  an  agreement  to  stay  away  as  Liz  asked  her  to    ???    Columbia  WASN’T  SURE  quite  yet.    Though,    the  thought  of  further  upsetting  such  a  dear  friend  was  likely  more  than  enough  to  keep  her  away.    ❝    She  ain’t  worth  an  OUNCE  of  your  energy  or  time,    ❞    the  bitterness  oozed  from  EACH  SYLLABLE  which  escaped  her.}

                  ^{LACKING   GRACE   are   the   shuffling   steps   taken   to   the   edge   of   columbia’s   bed.   the   need   to   sit   is   ever   present  ;   the   weight   of   loss   ‘pon   her   shoulders   is   nearly   too   much   to   bear   standing.   cautiously,   she   perches   on   the   worn   mattress,   dosing   relief   to   aching   limbs.   even  so,   the   younger   girl’s   gaze   is   eluded    –––    in   favor   of   the   carpet  ;   her   own   still   baring   her   lover’s   corpse,   &   the  sunken   stain   of   a   sanguine   pool   beneath   him.}

                  ^{that   thought   alone   is   enough   to   trigger   another   bout   of   tears,   quiet   sobbing   once   again   racking   her   chest.   palms,   their   tremor   poorly   concealed,   come   up   to   cover   her   face,   elbows   resting   upon   pantyhose - donned   knees.   she’s   crying   into   her   hands,   unable   to   become   the   embodiment   of   strength   she’s   expected   to   be.           ❛         oh   god    ––––         ❜         roughly   exhaled,   palms   shifting   to   allow   her   voice   to   carry.   words,   however,   remain   muffled   &   faint,   nearly   indistinct    ––    had   the   room   not   been   so   quiet.        ❛           this   is    ––    it’s   my   fault.        ❜}

(Source: rcsetinted-a-blog, via rcsetinted-a-blog)