bakerstreet | We shouldn't. We really shouldn't...

Entry tags:

We shouldn't. We really shouldn't...

The Highly Inappropriate Tension Meme

Touches. Glances. Sides brushing, so close to each other. The moment is, most likely, quiet, subdued, and calm. Or it could be loud and full of life, right in the middle of a vivacious party. Yet, no matter the case, your blood is pumping - no, nearly boiling with the passion bubbling between you and your companion.

Unfortunately, this tension is completely and absolutely out of line. Whether it be the place, the time, your relationship with the person (be that literal relation or power difference, age difference, experience difference, and so on), your own lack of knowledge, or personal convictions, you should not act on any building desires.

But here's the thing about tension: it builds. It builds, and it builds, until...

Well, even subtlety can come to an inappropriate head.

HOW TO PLAY

Comment with your character, canon, and preferences in the subject. In the comment body, be sure to mention if there are any squicks you have, scenarios you don't/do want to play out, and if you're okay with AUs or handwaved CR.
Reply to others.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

[Awkward tension is Molly's favored terrain! (No actually that's probably the morgue BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN)]

[OTA!]

[ Show-verse while I work on the books. AUs are also welcome. ]

It's been a few weeks since the White Stag was hunted and killed. His antlers were used to try and bind the sun summoner's powers to the Darkling. Unfortunately for him, it backfired big time. Not only could she summon shadows at will, but she could and had already proven that she would render any attempt to try and control the Fold utterly useless.

They're stuck at a standstill. Both too stubborn to strike a bargain. Unwilling to negotiate. It certainly doesn't help that Alina is seething at his attempt to control her. She couldn't even bring herself to look at him during their journey back to the little palace. She's never felt so betrayed!

However, politics draw them in like a noose around their necks. The king is still gravely ill, his son sits in his place and the young prince enjoys putting on lavish balls and Fetes, all the better to drown out the threat of West Ravka. He's made it a point (almost twice as annoying as his father) to be kept informed of the sun summoner's progress.

She hates that he looks handsome as ever as he greets her at the entrance to the grand palace. He's been waiting for her and she made a point of running late just to irk him. This evening is all about false pretenses. All of Ravka have their eyes on Alina. On the General. They're all looking towards the two of them for guidance and assurance.

He's meant to be training her to tear down the Fold. At least, that's the lie they both fed the Prince.

With a soft exasperated sigh, she holds out her hand towards him. "Let's just get this over with."

The sensation of feeling the ebb and flow of his shadows and her light took some getting used to. It was tolerable when they were apart to some degree but nearly overwhelming when they were close, though he never shows it. Slowly it turned into an unfortunate roadblock in his plan when she can completely negate everything he did and vice versa.

Aleksander could feel the anger she held for him their entire journey back to the Little Palace, so much so that there were horse switches when he'd leave her alone with Ivan and Zoya in the carriage while he rode on ahead of it. He deserved her rage for what he did.

But he was patient. He had time to be. Much like he had told Mal, he was prepared to wait years to be forgiven by her should it take that long.

The sun summoner's progress was easy to fabricate given the current circumstances of his failed attempt of controlling her power through the stag's amplifier. The prince, much like his father, never dug deeper for information once the bare minimum was given to him. The look the Apparat gives him showed a little knowing but quickly shys away out of fear from the glare Aleksander gives him in return.

It was in his duty to be punctual as he waited outside of the Grand Palace, watching as guests greeted him as they entered, all dressed in lavish gowns, suits, and uniforms. If there was one thing that didn't change over the course of centuries, it was Kings and their sons throwing grand balls to forget what was at stake for their people.

And she was late.

He tries to not let that fact bother him too much seeing as their track record as of late was to strike a nerve against each other. The gold embroidery of the kefta she wore eventually walked into his field of vision and he stood up a little straighter, his fingertips idly running along the palm of his hand until he took her outstretched hand in his.

"Someone's eager." He glances in her direction as they walk deeper into the Palace, "I figured you'd sing a different tune if you knew your precious tracker was here this evening."

She hates how one brush of his hand against hers brings her power rushing to the surface. It's all she can do just to hold the light as well as the darkness welling within her at bay. Since they haven't been in close quarters very often these past few weeks, she's a bit unprepared for the sheer force behind their connection.

It's an impressive display of control for a young Grisha.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, she'd never be able to look away from him once trapped under his dark gaze. Now, she won't so much as turn her head in his direction. Her eyes remain trained forward, an easy-going mask of a smile on her face as she nods her head in the direction of those who greet them.

The only hint of true emotion she expresses is the way her eyes search the crowd, looking for Mal in a sea of unfamiliar faces - and the way her eyes widen when she finally catches sight of him lets Aleksander know that he has competition for her attention this evening.

Mal is predictable right down to the way he tries to push his way through the crowd to get to them. To get to her, more specifically.

Alina stops the tracker with one look, shakes her head, pleads with her eyes for him to steady himself before the guards take notice. Because she knows he certainly noticed the encounter.

Fortunately, when Mal falls back, he's seen as just another enthusiastic person who wants to catch a glimpse of the infamous Saint Alina. Nothing happens, in fact, it's over in a handful of seconds.

"You planned that." Her voice is calm, however, he can sense that on the inside she's brimming with anger and righteous rage. She hates when he plays at being the puppeteer, pulling her strings. Pulling Mal's strings. Using them against each other.

Edited 2021-05-28 14:53 (UTC)

Had the circumstances been different and he wasn't bitter, he would've commended her control; it couldn't be easy for someone to control two power sources against the touch of set amplifiers. The only comparison he could make was that it felt like merzost in its intensity.

Aleksander keeps his collected exterior, giving small nods in greeting when the guests address him specifically. His attention is kept ahead as he guides them to one of the main rooms where everyone seemed to be gathering. Most likely to listen to the Prince's speech of welcome and thanks for attending and god knows what else out of formality.

It wasn't difficult to spot Mal in the crowd of semi-familiar faces. The look in his expression when he finally spots Alina and the very brief flicker of emotion from her in return when he turns his attention to her before his gaze jumps back to Mal stopping his advance to blend once more with the crowd.

"Did I?" He tries not to sound too amused by their attempt, "Surely, he deserved some kind of reward for tracking you and the stag, don't you think?" First Army soldiers weren't exactly common guests of the Grand Palace, let alone at a ball or a fete. His grip on his sun summoner's hand tightens in a quick squeeze, "As long as you don't do anything rash, he'll be able to enjoy the party."

Aleksander stops them in one of the rows facing the Prince on his father's throne, turning his head as he watched the rest of the guests continue to file in after them.

If it's her attention he wanted, well, he certainly has it now. In spades. Her head turns in his direction, listening to the low rasp of his voice. Her laughter isn't soft, it's bitter and full of barely restrained hate. "I was naive before, but I'm not an idiot. I know why you're keeping him around." Mal is quite possibly the best Tracker in all of Eastern Ravka if now the entire world. There are other amplifiers out there and the Darkling's greed knows no limit. The fact that he could also use Mal to strike a nerve with her must have been an added bonus on his part.

Mal won't track for him, not even under threat of death, but he'll gladly do it for Alina. Therein lies the rub, his loyalty is entirely to her.

A hush falls over the room as the Prince begins his speech. The Darkling and the Sun Summoner are the only ones currently not paying a lick of attention. He has Alina so stirred up that even her shadow on the wall faces away from him. With arms crossed, mind you.

It feels like the speech takes forever. She's getting restless, being this close to him. Every time she tries to slip her hand from his grasp, he tightens his grip, gaining another wrathful look from her. Possessive bastard.

Finally, everyone around them erupts into a round of applause and she's able to free her hand as they both move to mirror the nobles around them in celebrating the Prince's grand plan.

When next he looks over, she's gone. A moment, that's all she needed to disappear from his sight. Mingling and mixing in with the crowd as they began to filter into the ballroom where music began to play.

She's in the center of the room when he finds her, but what pray tell was she up to in the span of ten minutes that had passed since she left his side?

"You know, jealousy isn't a good look on you, General Kirigan." She says under her breath, barely glancing over her shoulder when he nears her at long last. By now, she doesn't need to see him to know he's there. She can feel his presence.

Aleksander knew they were a packaged deal the moment he had intercepted their letters. All he had to do was threaten their safety or their lives against each other for either of them to relent to his wishes. There was a reason as to why he didn't have Ivan kill Mal in the woods that night. He's not cruel enough to have Alina experience the loss he had once felt in a powerless situation. "If that's the case, then you better protect him better than you have."

Had Baghra not revealed his intentions or his history, he believes she would've continued to see things under rose colored lenses up until the point he collared her with the stag's amplifier. Would she have still held such hatred for him if that had been the turn of events instead? What a fairytale thought.

She was right though. Knowing that Mal was one of the best trackers he's ever seen, one who found a creature believed to only reside in myth, he couldn't just let him return to the front lines of the army. No. If he had any hope of finding the last of Morozova's creatures, he'd need him. Even if he wouldn't follow his orders.

The Darkling is quick to drown out the Prince's speech. Over his lifetime, he's heard the same words spoken enough to never want to hear them again. Keeping his attention to the way Alina's hand felt in his own and the way he wouldn't let her slip from his grasp. Ignoring the glare she aims in his direction.

Out of formality at the end of the Prince's speech did he reluctantly release her hand, only to regret doing so. His jaw clenched when he realized she had disappeared in the middle of the applause. Of course, she would. His gaze searches for her in the sea of guests and when he couldn't spot her, he has to remind himself to keep his emotions on the calmer spectrum, despite his frustration.

When he filed into the ballroom, his strides were longer, quicker, as he crossed to the center of the room to reach her standing there, her back facing him.

His hand reaches out to land on her hip, leaning in close as he slowly rounds in front of her, his touch sliding along her lower back as he went, "Is jealousy ever a good look on anyone?". He pulled his hand back to place them both behind his back, eyebrow raised.

He knew what he wanted and once he had it, he wasn't going to simply give it up without a fight. And Alina was not an exception to that.

"Is there a reason you decided to claim the first dance of the evening?" He asked as he glanced to the sides of the room as everyone claimed the walls, leaving them alone at its center. The king and queen would've taken the opportunity but neither were present and the prince never did when he hosted. What was she planning?

Edited 2021-05-30 11:24 (UTC)

If they hadn't been interrupted that night at Fete, things would have been very different. At the very least, she would have given herself over completely to him. Her body. Her heart. Everything. They came so close to that threshold, only to be plunged into their current state of affairs.

Alina can remember the hard and unyielding press of his mouth against hers. She hates how her body craves him like the sweetest addiction. The taste of his lips, the rasp of his beard against the bend of her neck.

Saints. Stop those thoughts. He's a monster. He's the man responsible for the creation of the Fold. Not some wounded boy in need of a woman's gentle touch.

Her eyes follow his movements as he faces directly in front of her, a coy smile falling into place at his question. "Don't you like surprises, General Kirigan?" Her voice is soft, but there's definitely a knowing edge to it. Of course, he would find the answer to both his question as well as the reason for her disappearance in a few moments.

Her hands undo the belt holding her black and gold kefta in place, letting it fall from her shoulders. Genya steps forward to retrieve it before the heavier fabric hits the ground. What she's wearing underneath steals the very breath from the nobles watching them. A shimmering golden dress that brazenly leaves her shoulders bare. It's very form fitting and distinctly not something a Saint should be wearing...

But she looks ravishing in it. Stunning even as the sequins along the bust of the dress catch and radiate light from the chandelier above their heads.

There's more. The musicians aren't playing the starting notes to a traditional waltz. No, the beat is a bit too fast for that.

"Shall we?" Her hand is outstretched towards him. "Genya wanted to be sure I learned all of the dances, even the nontraditional ones. Just in case."

Edited 2021-05-30 13:13 (UTC)

"That depends on the sur...prise." He trails off as soon as her kefta slips away to reveal a gorgeous gown that sparkled with a simple shift in the light. He's completely stunned for moment that he doesn't register the tempo the musicians had set for them until her hand was stretched out towards him.

"Did she now?" A smile peeked in the corner of his mouth as he takes her hand in his, pulling her in close for a note, "I look forward to seeing how well she taught you."

Aleksander can't recall the last time he's had to dance at court, he wasn't the most approachable dance partner in the room and was mostly avoided, unless Zoya wanted to steal a moment. All eyes were on them as the score danced in the air alongside them and in that moment, he forgot how upset he was with her only minutes prior.

A temporary truce?

He remained a solid lead, guiding them along the dance floor with intricate and quick footwork that seemed almost effortless in its grace. His gaze never left her when a move or twirl brought them intimately close, the slow glide of his hand along her back or her arm when it was required. Despite the dance being traditionally quick, he took things slower than usual, savoring how he can have his touch linger over her skin. Feeling that zing of power under his fingertips.

A sun in eclipse with how the skirt of her dress wrapped around the black of his kefta.

"How did you manage to keep both your dancing lessons and the dress under such secrecy?" He asks, just loud enough for her to hear. He couldn't seem to wrap his head around not being told about either of them from any of his closest Grisha.

Learning the various dances was something Genya had insisted on. It was actually a fun way to pass the time. Just the three of them, laughing and swaying about her room. She must have stepped on poor Fedyor's feet over a hundred times, she was so clumsy to start with. The heartrender took it all in stride. Sometimes Genya would interrupt to correct her posture or to remind them to be serious and stop giggling so much, even while she was laughing herself.

This - It's different with Aleksander. He makes it seem effortless and she finds herself getting lost in his stormy gaze. There's something here that she never had during her lessons. Chemistry.

Somehow they move fluidly through the tango. Every step looking as if they must have practiced it. How else could they keep in perfect sync? She's rendered breathless with every spin and sway. The Darkling’s touch feels like a million hands at once. A thousand little wildfires flaming to life. Flames licking her skin, coaxing a flicker of light wherever his hand brushes bare skin. Her power rushes to the surface, surges through their connection before she can stop it.

It's slower than she anticipated and at first, she tries to hurry him, but the General won't be rushed. It's much more intimate this way. He certainly has no qualms in forcefully correcting her movements. Adjusting her arm, linking their fingers together while her other hand starts off resting against his shoulder, a safe distance, but eventually, she ends up sliding her fingertips over the nape of his neck.

"You're not the only one capable of keeping secrets, Darkling." She whispers back to him as her body is pulled in close. One of her long legs lifting to stretch past his waist when he surprises her by letting his free hand wrap around her thigh, forcing her leg up higher until her heel rests over his shoulder.

Shit. She made a sound. Not quite a moan, but certainly not far from it.

The tension between them was palpable in the room to the point the nobles held their breaths, entranced with every moment that two of them made. One particular set of eyes had pushed towards the front line of observers and Aleksander can feel the dagger-like glare radiating from them, knowing full well who it belonged to.

It only entices him, even more, to take his time, to forcefully adjust Alina's movements from playing safe in a way that reads as part of the choreography and forces her to be in line with him without the hushed whispers that he was being too harsh or rousing suspicions on if they were fighting.

He knows how much she wants this over with. To have nothing to do with him outside of their public appearances and yet, he wanted to drag her back to him in every lasting look, every lingering touch that was laced in tingling white fire as it brushed over skin, and the alluring wisp of his words.

"I'm impressed. Well done." He compliments her effort of maintaining secrecy, something that was difficult to some degree to achieve around him, especially within the Little Palace. He had to hand it to Genya, she taught her well but he didn't expect anything less of the prized tailor.

There's a mischievous twinkle in his eyes at the sound she makes as he adjusted her leg, holding her there for a moment before his hand lifts her heel off his shoulder, his hand sliding down her leg until he drops it completely and into the next set of steps, "You know, I miss when you actually called me by name and not title." He says in the middle of a dip before bringing her back up close in a slow, seductive motion.

Tiny shivers run up her spine at the sparks that erupt as her power, the very core of her being, responds to him like a magnifying glass, and she fights the pressing urge to lean into him when he pulls her in close.

Her eyes are pitch black when she opens them to meet his gaze. Because it's not just the light she has to contend with. His darkness is welling up inside her as well and his power is tricky. It wants to rush out and consume everything, smother the whole room in complete darkness.

It positively pulses beneath her skin like a second heartbeat in response to her own lust. It whispers the sweet seduction of letting him have her in every sense of the word. Let him take complete control of her. Wouldn't it be easier that way?

Alina has to force herself to pull away from him, but she makes it look like another step with the graceful sway of her hips as she swirls around so that she's behind him. A moment later she wraps her arms around him, pressing every soft curve of her body against his back. He can feel the heat and warmth radiating off her.

"I'll call you by your name when you earn my respect, General Kirigan." Her lips are mere inches from his ear, her voice velvet soft and seductive, but as usual, there's still some fight left in her.

Her hands sweep over his chest as she curls her whole body against him once more. While looking out at the crowd, she catches Mal's eye. He can't see it since she's looking over his shoulder, but he can probably sense her attention shifting as she swirls past him, making a beeline towards the tracker.

It's another power play.

Edited 2021-06-05 15:47 (UTC)

His darkness ran in tune with emotions and desires; amplifying them until it consumed enough to flow out effortlessly. He had years to master his power, to know when to let it take over and when to bury it. Alina barely mastered her own and was thrusted a more unpredictable one alongside it.

Aleksander arches subtlely against her touch as she pressed against his back, his hand meeting hers as it swept over his chest. As much as she can feel the temptation of his darkness, he can just as easily feel the radiating brilliance of her light. The warmth of it dragging along his kefta, the call to stop fighting against her and to give in to his once childish desire to stay in the light when he was once afraid of the dark.

He clenched his jaw at her words. While he still held respect for her, despite recent events, he in turn was knocked down from his pedestal. He had to work for her respect that she had once given so willingly.

He watches her glide away from him, letting her do so until she was almost within the tracker's grasp before he does a flourish of his hands in a gesture that no one has seen him use before. The shadows underneath her creep like vines up her heels and coil around her ankles, stopping her in her tracks just within reach of Mal. A voice chimes in her head, almost as if he was speaking right next to her, "Ah, what did I say? Do you really want me to exile your precious friend out of East Ravka?" An empty threat that didn't seem so with the bite in his tone.

He walks after her in a stride that reads as less dance and more authoritative as he wraps an arm around her waist and his other hand slides down her arm that forces her arm out towards the tracker, palm outstretched as his hand mirrored the motion underneath hers. As if coaxing Mal to take her hand. Their hand. He met Mal's glare towards him with the same intensity before he lifted her just enough that her heel points were being dragged along the floor back to the center of the room.

The nobles around the tracker exchange glances and hushed whispers, curious as to why they singled the poor man out of the crowd and why there was such anger in his eyes. Childhood friend? Lovers? The stunt certainly riled up the guests with their theories about the three of them.

She's frozen in place, mere inches from reaching Mal. Their eyes meet and it's like they can't look away from each other. For a few brief moments, they exchange a whole sentence without a single word.

I'm sorry.

I know

If Aleksander is the tempest for her power, Mal is the eye of the storm. Just knowing he's there soothes her. Calms her.

She could break free from his shadows, but it wouldn't matter. The royals and nobles watching aren't looking at her feet or the shadows shackling her in place. They're too busy gossiping in hushed whispers about the brief encounter with the Tracker.

She falls willingly into his arms when he pulls her back to the center of the room. Away from Mal's wrathful glare. A small, smug little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as he leads them back into the familiar rhythm. Her leg lifting to lock around his waist, her voice a soft chuckle ringing through his mind.

"I knew there's a possessive streak in you. Deep. Deep down. You're not used to having competition, are you?"

Someone was amused by that little stunt out of the three of them as her soft chuckle swirled in his head.

"Of course not and I'm sure that amuses you." He replies honestly, furrowing his brows a fraction. The authority and reputation that he had gave him certain things on a silver platter, there was no need for competition. When it came to the sun summoner, that was thrown completely out the window with how fiercely protective Mal was over her.

Even more so now, after that night with the stag.

And in turn, it only amplified his urge to be possessive over her. The first time in over a few hundred years that he felt the unwavering need to protect what was his. As if he had staked a claim on her the moment her power was revealed in that tent back in Kribirsk.

Aleksander leads them into the last round of moves in the tango. Quick, intertwining steps around each other, followed by a lift that had her dress hovering behind her before her feet touched the ground and ended in a slow dip that brought them in close once final time. The last notes faded away as the room erupted in applause.

He gives a short bow when he finally pulls away from her before he places a soft kiss to her hand for appearances sake, "Any more surprises that I should be aware of?" He raises a brow, taking a moment to catch his breath. Not yet releasing her hand from his grip.

As usual, he manages to steal her attention completely. Ensnaring her senses. His very presence is intoxicating. She can't tell if it's because he's a living amplifier or if it's just the sheer chemical reaction of light and dark meeting at long last.

Her light wants to wind around him, entwine and incase him in the protective warmth of pure sunlight. She wonders if he can feel it too. How much of his love for her was real? How much was fabricated?

She's breathless when they finish. Holding that last pose for a few moments longer than strictly necessary.

Once again, she has to remind herself that he's the black heretic. He's the reason so many lives have been lost. Her parents. The Fold is his darkness manifested in some twisted and warped way.

When they break apart, she courtesies to the nobles in a gentle and demure way so unlike the riveting display of the dance they had just finished. And yes - She does try to free her hand from his grip, but it seems he had no intention of letting her slip away. Again.

"The night is still young, Darkling." She says under her breath while watching the nobles start to fill the room and dance floor. Genya approach a few moments later to help the sun summoner back into her black and gold kefta. Unless, of course, Aleksander intervenes.

"Do you intend to hover at my side all night? I'd like a breath of fresh air at some point this evening."

Edited 2021-06-07 15:59 (UTC)

Aleksander merely hums at the possibility of her having something else up her sleeve. The white of Genya's kefta doesn't escape his notice as she approaches, choosing not to intervene when it came to dressing her back into her kefta.

"I don't. The evening is yours to enjoy, there are some matters I need to attend to for now." His attention shifts to Genya who he acknowledges with the duck of his head, "Genya. Miss Starkov." His hold on her hand slips as he presses the same hand to his chest in a slight bow before he disappears into the crowd of the ballroom. If he didn't make an escape now someone was bound to ask for a dance and he needed to get out of such a suffocating room.

Nobles threw praise at him as he walked past for the dazzling display of the dance, some told him he should be on the dance floor more than he was, while others leaned in wanting to know about the stunt with the tracker. He gave his gratitude where it was due and ignored anything to do with the Mal for now. Weaving through the halls, he managed to slip out into the Palace gardens and into the cool night air.

The pale moon illuminated the gravel paths alongside the occasional lamp posts that dotted around the flower beds. There were no pressing matters that needed his attention, not yet anyway, but he knows when his presence is unwelcome past a certain point. He could be that hovering shadow if he wanted to, watching her every move but what good would that do either of them. It would only add fuel to the already burning fire.

He wrung his hands as he walked until he stopped at a bench surrounded by an array of flowers, the warmth and overwhelming zing of her touch lingering over his skin like trapped electricity. He stared at the palms of his hands in the dim light as he sat there, the darkness of the night surrounding the dim warm light of the post nearby; there was no warmth in that light. Not like hers.

A soft chuckle leaves him as he ducks his head and leans forward, his elbows resting near his knees as he ran a hand through his hair. The aching yearning for her never stopped. His love was genuine in every sense of the word and he really fucked things over in a major way that he thought there was no coming back from. He could hear Baghra's disappointed words in his head over his failed plan, his choices despite the fact he hadn't gone to her hut to visit with her since they returned. Not wanting to deal with her lectures.

What a fool, he was in thinking he could harness the light when he was destined only for darkness.

Alina watched him turn away and slowly start to meld in with the crowd with a look of surprise on her face. Of course, he knew of her disdain for him and what he'd tried to do with Morozova's collar. Up until they were forced to be in public together this evening, she had been so disgusted with him that she couldn't stand to be in his presence. His betrayal had hurt her just as much as it pained him to see her make him into a villain.

Darkness and light. What had he told her? Like calls to like.

It takes her a while to cool off. Some time apart should have cleared her head, but there's a dizzying rush of offers to dance. Neverending conversations, questions, everyone wants to know the plan. When will the infamous Saint Alina tear down the fold? Soon, yes? Everyone is looking to her as their savior.

His absence is noted. After all, she's made her way around the entire room twice now with no sign of him. His black kefta causes him to stand out in a sea of colors.

It shouldn't bother her. Really, it shouldn't. However, she can't shake this nagging feeling that something might be wrong.

She finds him in the gardens, but she doesn't approach him immediately. She watches him for a little while. Studying his posture and facial expression under the light of the lamp. Is he even aware of the darkness creeping steadily in around him?

Truly, she must be a Saint. After everything he's done to her, no one else would sigh softly under their breath before striding over to take a seat beside him on the bench. All without so much as glancing in his direction.

She doesn't reach out to touch him like she's done in the past when she thought he was revealing his vulnerable side to her. It's enough that she's here instead of leaving him alone to wallow in his current state of - whatever he's going through.

"Do you think it's time we stop squabbling like children and try to reconcile our differences?"

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he almost missed the soft crunch of footsteps advancing towards him. Already he knew who it was before the familiar gold and black kefta popped in his peripheral, had it been anyone else they would've addressed his state before sitting next to him; wondering why he was all alone in the dark and quiet garden instead of enjoying the party.

His gaze doesn't glance towards her, instead, it stays trained on either his hands or the shadowy silhouettes of the plants across from them as he stayed hunched over. It takes him a moment to answer. They had gone weeks with barely speaking to each other, always ending in an argument or a fight of some kind before it turned into a game of getting on each other's nerves when surrounded by other people.

It's a surprise that she had even sought him out at all, to begin with when she could've been spending the time with Genya or Mal. Taking advantage of his absence.

Aleksander tilts his head to the side, "As long as you don't give me a lecture like my mother would... I'm open to giving it a chance." There's no bite to his tone like it had in the ballroom, if anything, it sounded almost... tired. Which must sound strange coming from him of all people.

With her so close, he decided to try something. Touch was their gateway to each other's powers for the most part but at the moment, there's a wishful effort to mimic one of the hand motions he had seen her do in order to summon her light. He fully expects it not to work but the smallest orb of light appears in his hand, one that lacks the same warmth.

Molly Hooper | BBC Sherlock | OTA

Kitagawa Yusuke | Persona 5 | m/m

douma / kimetsu no yaiba / m/f / modern

Hange Zoe | Attack on Titan

The Darkling | Shadow & Bone/ Grishaverse | OTA

Stag-verse

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Nico Acosta | OC | M/F

Evie Montgomery | OC | OTA