amoralism

the man, a beast. someone who has never known love and may never know it still.

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

         muffled by the pillows his words did not make it past the fine cloth and was lost on her. she only heard sounds, harsh and unintelligible. perhaps the words was to her, perhaps it wasn’t, her curiosity did not care for either options only that it wanted to know. the discovery was not gentle, and it took her breath away in more ways than one. like the bone quivering introduction to a grand orchestra, this was no soft opening. only when the music had sought and seized the attention of its recipient did it lull; drawing them in, tenderly, intimately, in gentle caresses and feathery kisses. no one had ever kissed her that way before. no one had tried. for she was a princess, a holy thing that was to be admired and never touched; who would dare? but augustus tulach had faced worst than the reprimand of royalty. violence and death were guests in his home, so what did he have left to be afraid?

as for emma; she knew what the sensible part of her wanted and the desires of her more selfish half did not coincide. it shows in the way her forehead remained propped against his temple with stubborn reluctance, in the way her lips hovered near his, unable to stay, unwilling to leave. dark eyes followed the bridge of his nose down to his lips. one palm remained on the nape of his neck, the other placed flat over his chest in equal bids to pull him in and push him away. “you shouldn’t have done that.” she exhales her response into his mouth just before their lips touch. “you shouldn’t have—” and in the next moment, she’s swallowed the sound of her admissions and she’s kissing him—desperately, urgently— grasping at his shoulders so that she might pull him up onto the bed, as if the day might break at any given moment and the blanket provided by the night and its moon will draw back and reveal their passions to be something too dreamlike to exist in the real world. and perhaps it was, in any case, it was still dark, and if this was all god would allow then it would have to do.

he tried to slow his breathing, shorten it so she couldn’t tell how clearly this affected him. just her forehead against his, hard like her stubborn nature, tested his will to slow down. he followed her gaze down, not sure what she was looking at each moment of hesitation but knowing it was some part of him. augustus nodded as she exhaled the revelation he had uttered only moments ago. he expected her to pull away, although some part of him hoped she wouldn’t just in the tone of her voice. then she repeated it, or tried to, at least, when their mouths miraculously found each other again. it’s different this time, knowing she was kissing him, she had initiated it. it humbled him and made him feel powerful at the same time, hands pressed firmly to her neck. augustus pushed himself up more as her hands pulled at his shoulders, leaning into an angle that was more suited to fit their furor for consuming each other entirely.

augustus climbed onto the bed, refusing to pull apart from emma, and shifted so he was right next to her rather than on top of her. “that one wasn’t my fault,” he whispered softly, cheekily. he wore a stupid smile, thumbs stroking the tops of her cheek bones as he had developed a habit to do. before either of them could realize how bad of an idea this was, augustus leaned back in, slotting their mouths together once again, but instead of letting emma take control of the kiss, he held onto it. augustus guided her mouth into a slow moving kiss, feeding that same desperation that had stirred both of them to act, but in a way that was more in control, more of a sweet and dangerous burn. 

[amoraliisms]

i know there are so many people i need to talk to and get with about plots and i’m SO sorry about being awful on that front. it’s my first week back at school, forgive me

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

       her books taught her heart to bleed; to love fiercely and without prejudice and emma followed its direction to the last period. it never taught her how to cauterise the wound; to steel it, as it were. her parents had tried, vainly, and so did her tutors— but what worth were their words when likened to those spelled by austen or brontë or woolf.sSo what was it that made her so nervous? you, chiefly. though not for the reasons augustus might have suspected. this man, who wore war like an old coat: comfortably and without shame. he wore it in his eyes, on the callouses of his hands, and the scars on his back. there was nowhere on him that war’s hands had not touched— had not claimed his skin as her own; the property of something vile and corrupt and dangerous. he had introduced her to war and the cruel mistress had claimed her hand in the form of a scar and her mind in the hauntings of snake-like eyes.

“augustus…” she’d meant to object, to warn him away, but his name on her tongue sounded more like a plea. how had this man, this strange, ruthless, man, gone from being a face printed in the papers with a bold, heavy-lettered warning to a face she could derive comfort from? that was the source from which her true anxiety stemmed; that naivety had made her a delicate bird in his hand, one that he could crush in his fingers if he so pleased and she would not have the experience or sensibility to fly away. instinct encouraged her to meet him half way, to slip her hand onto the back of his neck and thread her fingers through the dark hair that sat there. but at the last moment, sense steered her head to the side, the bridge of her nose bumping against the cradle of his neck. he smelled of sea water, and of clean crisp air, and she wanted to bury herself in him. a last resort to satisfy the ache in her chest when reason would permit no other.

his eyes closed when she uttered his name in that breathless way that truly tested him. even with his eyes closed, augustus could tell she was overthinking it. to be honest, he knew he was too. it was strange how he could overthink so much and still glaze over his actual feelings towards the girl in front of him, how she’s wormed a huge weakness into his heart. her breath, hot against his neck, nearly broke him. he dropped his forehead down onto his folded arms, fear, for the first time in a long time, surging up into his chest and throat. “i’m going to get myself or you killed,” he whispered, reminding himself to breathe as he clutched at the comforter she laid under. “fuck,” he hissed, lifting his head and cupping his hands underneath her neck. augustus leaned back and slotted his mouth against hers for the first time. he knew he would lose this someday so he decided he’d rather have at least had a taste of it first.

augustus pulled away, littering kisses along her cheeks and forehead. he finally stilled with a soft release of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “i probably shouldn’t have done that.” it almost feels unreal, like he could wake up any moment. most of the desperation had left him and all that was left behind was this need he wasn’t sure he could even ask emma to fill. she wasn’t his to ask. oddly, that made his heart ache. he leaned in against, brushing the lightest of kisses against her mouth, seeking permission or rejection, convincing himself that either would decide his fate, even if her first rejection clearly hadn’t worked.

[amoraliisms]

deadly-oryn:

          Liar. It would be a crime to shout that at his father - a pure death sentence. What would Augustus do without his eldest son? Attempt to rule the ocean by his lonesome and hope that Deus would step up with age? No. Without Oryn, he was nothing. The reputation was not only gained by himself, but he’d trained his kids as well. It was to be expected that they’d follow in the man’s footsteps. Humming in response to the man’s words that seemed more hollow than an “I love you” from an ex, Oryn folded his arms across his chest, gaze directing to a different area that didn’t involve the asshole he had to claim as his reason for life. “Luck - you do really think they’ll send their best to fight an army of pirates that are known to murder anything in sight? I’d suspect not.” Perhaps he was wrong. Countries could be shoving all they’ve got toward the Tulach family, but Oryn doubted it. They’d leave themselves defenseless to the other nations and the other families of pirates. They couldn’t be that thoughtless that they’d leave themselves utterly vulnerable to the rest of the world. 

augustus could feel his son’s resentment towards him rolling off him in waves–taste it in the air, even. why couldn’t it just be a happy reunion, for once? he rolled his eyes, adjusting his coat as he held his cigarette between his lips. “do you know how tiresome it is to have even your own children not trust in your plans? you don’t have to believe me, trust me, whatever. all i ask is that you do your job and don’t kill your royal. or any royal, for that matter. if you have to, i’d prefer you come to me first.” augustus turned and started walking down the dock, pausing on the way to wave his hand in the air, indicating that he wanted his son to follow. “c’mon. there’s more than family reunions we have to go over,” he called over his shoulder, face an impassive mask. “we don’t have all day to complain about the sand in our boots, oryn.”

[amoraliisms]

Asteroid. Meteor. Supernova. Wormhole.

Asteroid: What does your dream life look like? 

“simple.”

Meteor: What’s something you wish you could tell, but can’t?

“i wish i could express how i feel.”

Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die?

“is feeling peaceful too vague? go hiking around canada, i suppose. visit my home one more time.”

Wormhole: What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t?

“ … these wars to stop. for everyone to shut up and listen for once.”

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

      emma had half a mind to tell him that she was not in that office by mistake. aimless wondering was not a practised hobby of hers. it was a different room from the last however, believed to house records of deliveries. it was not very long until she was discovered, and for her troubles she had only names of companies that were at least two years old. that and other evidences that were only circumstantial if not completely useless. though she suspected that augustus would like that a great deal less than how her accent wrapped itself around the syllables of his name. the monégasques princess was too much a creature of willed resolve, and her priority remained as it was the day she stepped off the vessel that carried her here: to return home. duty, family, country—oh his fingers were like fire and emma sought for it like moth to flame; not oblivious to the consequences but willing to risk the burn. only his touch did not burn. it never burned. it kissed and caressed and has thus succeeded in drawing breath from her lungs with the slightest brush of flesh. it had coaxed out every selfish thought she’d ever had and brought it to the forefront of her mind where it could not be so easily dismissed for silly daydreams spun by her literatures. images of his hand falling to the small of her back, pulling her closer, and the other curling at her throat. his thumb moving from the column of her neck to the sharp angle of her jaw, lips branding and demanding and devouring.

trucs des livre de contes. cried reason, in a desperate bid to keep her from her own recklessness (and emma was not reckless. never has been reckless) but the more the words repeated itself, the less it felt like a thing of storybooks for it lives and breathes in the cradle of her hand and it looked at her with eyes that were gentle and tender and achingly blue. “i am nervous,” she said earnestly. though less so of the beast that lived outside their door. but of the fragile thing that lived in the treasure chest, one she kept behind the guard of duty, family and country, that rebelled against its captors as emma rebelled against hers. nervous of what it might persuade her tongue to say or touch to do.

was her mind ever at rest? yes, sometimes, when she slept. often augustus stayed up later or woke up earlier just to catch a glimpse of her sleeping, as embarrassing as it was. as obsessed she was with knowing him, the same could be said about augustus knowing emma. but he had grown up and learned to rely on observations rather than asking questions, taught through experience that while mouths could lie, often expressions and body language couldn’t. augustus thought that emma probably preferred to ask questions, for how often she had breached topics normally no one would be allowed to. even now, comfortable in bed, he noticed, her mind was clearly occupied. it didn’t help that the reality of their situation–she was his hostage–didn’t make for a comfortable atmosphere. still, the memory of her forgiving him in that small little church resonated so clearly in his mind. 

augustus’s gaze lingered on emma’s face for probably too long. “what makes you nervous?” he asked quietly, her tone making it clear she didn’t mean the evil man he’d fought off earlier. “i would never,” he added quietly, almost shuddering at the thought. he was a pirate, but he wasn’t a beast. augustus’s fingers wandered away from her forehead and down her cheek, avoiding the side with the injuries. he pet it gently with the back of his fingers, knuckles rolling over her cheekbone. “emma,” he prompted softly, still afraid to do anything without her first making it clear that it was alright. he wanted to kiss her, he finally admitted to himself, but he was too careful and cautious a man, and he did not like being made a fool, especially by himself. he leaned down, more or less crouching next to the bed rather than sitting on the edge. 

[sentencestarters-and-asks]

Send a space thing for questions

Planets: Life

Mercury: What’s your full name? 

Venus: What’s your first language? 

Earth: Where’s your home? 

Mars: What’s your sexuality? 

Jupiter: Do you have any siblings? 

Saturn: Any pets? 

Uranus: What’s your hobby? 

Neptune: When’s your birthday? 

Pluto: What time is it right now where you are? 

Moon: What are you currently studying/hope to study? 

Stars: Experiences

Sun: Have you ever had alcohol? 

Sirius: Have you ever failed a class? 

Rigel: Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster? 

Deneb: Have you ever been out of your home country? 

Arcturus: Have you cried out of something other than sadness? 

Betelgeuse: What’s something you can never forget about? 

Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about? 

Canopus: Have you ever broken a bone? 

Bellatrix: Have you ever been forced to lie/keep a secret? 

Alphard: Have you ever lost a friend?

Vega: What’s something you’ve done that you wish you hadn’t? 

Constellations: Favourites

Centaurus: Favourite holiday?

Orion: Favourite month?

Cassiopeia: Favourite book?

Delphinus: Favourite study?

Hercules: Favourite instrument?

Gemini: Favourite song?

Pegasus: Favourite place to be?

Libra: Favourite colour? 

Phoenix: Favourite thing to wear?

Aries: Favourite movie? 

Cygnus: Favourite weather? 

Hydra: Favourite sound? 

Galaxies: Love/Friends  

Milky Way: Who’s your oldest friend?  

Andromeda: Do you consider yourself social? 

Black Eye Galaxy: Do you believe in love at first sight? 

Cartwheel Galaxy: When was your first kiss? 

Cigar Galaxy: How’s your flirting skills? 

Comet Galaxy: Have you ever had to leave a relationship because someone changed too much? 

Pinwheel Galaxy: Would you date the last person you talked to? 

Sombrero Galaxy: Do you have a crush right now? 

Bode’s Galaxy: Have you ever had a secret admirer? 

Sunflower Galaxy: Would you date/make friends with someone out of pity? 

Tadpole Galaxy: Would you deny a relationship/friendship? 

Whirlpool Galaxy: Have you ever cried over a breakup? 

Other stuff: Wishes 

Comet: What’s your big dream? 

Asteroid: What does your dream life look like? 

Meteor: What’s something you wish you could tell, but can’t? 

Nebula: If you could undo one thing in your life, what would it be? 

Shooting Star: If you could bring back one thing, what would it be? 

Pulsar: What do you hope to do in the next 10 years? 

Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die? 

Quasar: If you could spend the rest of your life with only one person, who would it be? 

Wormhole: What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t? 

Black Hole: What’s the last thing you want to see? 

[amoraliisms]

im trying to take the myers briggs test for augustus now and i think im learning something about him lmao

[amoraliisms]

deadly-oryn:

          One day he would hold his father’s spot - a pair of boots that would not easily be filled. It would take the entirety of his personality to scrape his father’s, and Oryn wasn’t sure he was up for the task of - frankly - being the Prime Dick of the Ocean. “Father,” his attention dwelled mainly on the conversation at hand - the other half wandered to lands he would rather be on, anything was better than the dreaded island. “I had other business to attend to, despite my efforts to follow your demands prior to others.” He was too old to be bossed around by the man that thought he still owned him. Oryn may be a Tulach, and may be sailing a ship in the family name, but he was not a child. Weathered by storms, captures, wars, and rivalries, he was forced to grow up, demanding the spot at the next highest male Tulach. “I am here now. Have you had any luck since arriving?”

only his children and a few special cases dared defy his direct orders in such a way that made them seem like victims of disrespect. “i didn’t order you here because you’re my child, oryn. i ordered you here because i ordered everyone here. don’t be doaty,” he grumbled, reaching into his pocket to pull out his treasured cigarettes, placing one between his lips before he lit the end of it with a match. augustus took his time taking a drag before he spoke again. “all of the nations monarchs are looking for their children, oryn. that means they’re sending out their navies, looking for us.” he shook his head. “pray tell, what do you mean by luck?”

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

       “very funny,” she said, joking. the sudden shift took her by surprise. emma has never heard the tone on her tongue when addressing him before, for their prior interactions had been limited to animosity or, as of late, the tender exchange of eager curiosity between near-strangers hoping to learn one another. or at least emma wanted to learn him. when the last of the cuts were cleaned and tended to, she had anticipated separation, even prepared herself for it, but his touch returned almost as soon as it left. first in handing over of the analgesic and then in the way he caressed her face—carefully, gently, like she might slip through his fingers like dust. for his crimes against her she wanted somehow to protest his protectiveness, to condemn his warmth, to do anything but what she found herself doing then: her hand reaching up to hold his there, her fingers wrapped around his the way she had on the couch in the bedroom. 

she could see it still: the ambers simmering beneath the blue. it was easy to hate, she thought, to be driven to obsession by the wrongs done against you, to pick apart its threads and lament and eventually, to lose sight of a greater picture. augustus was a man whose words rarely left left his tongue. his displeasures were communicated in silent icy glares; his frustration in the sharp lines that cut across his jaw; his affections in the feathery caresses that kissed her cheek. words had thus proven its effectiveness to her and it would not quell this storm, she thought. so emma did not repeat the same sermons to let his anger go or turn the other cheek. his anger and his heart thundered in an raging chorus; a restless creature in need of a home, and emma would gladly volunteer her arms. “emmène-moi au lit, augustus.”

augustus was . . . surprised to not hear yet another reprimand from the princess. he’d already learned her expressions and this one clearly said “don’t” just as she had in the bathroom when he’d first seen the bruises. the flames nearly blossomed again, until he heard her soft command, taking a moment to translate the phrase. “you say my name differently when you speak french,” he hummed, the pirate failing to resist a smile. he let her chin go and instead occupied it by picking the princess up rather gracefully, if he did say so himself. he held her similarly to the way he had when she’d cut her hand and wouldn’t hold it above her head, like a groom carry his bride over the threshold. “ca marche,” he sighed, a simple alright falling from his lips. 

augustus carried her from the bathroom, smiling like a giddy child, and laid her down in his bed. “am i allowed to join you?” he teased as he turned to his dresser, only just now thinking to change out of his trousers and into a more comfortable pair of sweatpants. the pirate king toed off his shoes and changed before he made his way over to the bed. “i was going to watch the door because i thought you’d be nervous.” he sat on the edge, next to where he’d laid her down. “and i wasn’t sure if you’d take kindly to sharing a bed with me after the incident earlier, either.” he gently brushed some of emma’s dark hair away from her face.

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

        his voice draws her attention away from her thoughts not for a moment, but for what could be an eternity, depending on how long the night lasted. he shouldn’t but he lingers. she shouldn’t, but she lets him. there was an unmistakeable weight added to the baritone; a steadfast resolve that gave strength to even the softest of sounds. when she held his eyes she could feel it burn, and emma was not afraid but entranced. it was a bold promise and not one that can always be kept, but holding the blue of his eyes that at once drowned and burned, she believed him. fervently and wholeheartedly. and if he had not been so quick to look away, she might have told him so. instead she told him that she had no medical preferences and that his offer was kind but she was satisfied with her own clothes. then she watched as his back disappeared behind the door and let go of the breath she never knew she was holding; hand gripping the sink for support she never knew she needed. emma dared a glance at the mirror and expected to see a ghostly twin of her usual self; weary and pale. what she saw were wide dark eyes and a flushed face. she could barely catch her breath but she looked alive, and the beating of her heart echoed in spirited chorus. what was happening?

when next he entered the bathroom, emma was fully dressed and running a brush through her hair; still wet though no longer dripping. her back was still turned by the time he had stepped into the bathroom’s light, though her reflection found his eyes and the corner of its lips turned up into a small smile. and even with the red cut that sliced arcoss the bone of her cheek and down her lip, it was still a very pretty smile. “i won’t be needing anymore sutures will i?” 

he came back into the bathroom, trying not to roll his eyes when he caught her using his hair brush. instead, it involuntarily drew a smile to his lips, something so domestic surprisingly heartwarming. “if you needed sutures for this, i’d bring you to solomon. wouldn’t want any scarring here,” he hummed, thumb, coated with anti-bacterial, brushing along the cuts. “i can’t put bandaids where it split your lip, lest you not be able to talk. oh wait . . . now that i’ve thought about it . . .” he teased, much closer than he had been just a moment ago. augustus held her chin in one hand and continued to clean and disinfect every tiny gash, covering up the largest of them with a bandaid. “that has pain reliever in it, so it should help. however, i still brought this.” augustus paced over to the counter where a couple of pain pills and a glass of water sat. “here,” he hummed once he’d come back, holding both out and waiting for her to take them. he watch patiently as she swallowed them, almost as if he wouldn’t believe she took them unless he saw it. 

augustus took the princess’s chin again, lifting it slightly so he could get a good look at the injuries, trying to keep his face neutral even as the anger burned in his veins. “i’m sorry i wasn’t there,” he mumbled quietly, thumb stroking the part of her cheek that wasn’t cut. “i should have been there.”

[dragconsfire]

Toes buried deep into the sand and arms slung over her knees, Persephone’s eyes didn’t even bother falter from their place on the horizon as the sound of footsteps neared and stopped just behind her. She wasn’t sure if she were waiting for her countries colors to come into view - or if it was just the gentle lull of the waves that had kept her there once the sun had dipped beyond the horizon. 

“I remember when I was young, we would visit the seaside every year for a vacation. I remember being shocked by the stars - how bright they were. We stopped going a few years back. Funny how no matter what shore, the stars on the water are… breathe taking.”

[amoraliisms]

“they aren’t coming, princess,” augustus said coolly from behind persephone, lit cigarette between two fingers. he glanced up as the white smoke danced towards the same stars she was praising now. augustus took a long drag from that same cigarette again, sighing the smoke out. “it’s time to return to your quarters. i can’t let you stay out here lest you try to swim away.” to be quite honest, the pirate king hadn’t ventured out to the beaches to bring the bulgarian princess back in–in fact he hadn’t even known she was out here. he had wandered out in search of something to calm the ache he felt, being away from the sea for too long.

[amoraliisms]

( @deadly-oryn )

slowly, his children had been trickling in to the island, one by one. he noted, sourly and to himself, that none of them seemed to take his orders very seriously as they all took quite the time to arrive. augustus rose his eyebrow when he caught sight of his eldest son. their most shared feature was their height and dark, dark hair, while their eyes were drastically different; augustus’s were the color of the sea, while his son’s the color of a dark night. “oryn,” he called out, catching the other’s attention with a firm tone. “you’ve finally decided to join us on the island.”

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

         there was something to be endeared in the way augustus, a towering, imposing statue in his own right, paced back and forth between rooms in a haste to gather her things, preceded by the insistence that she remained where she was; enveloped in the towel and the warmth of the steam that refused to dissipate with the rest of its siblings. it was something that seemed entirely too domestic to befit the image and reputation of the great pirate king. if being loved by emma was commonplace (because if she was being frank, even emma would admit that her heart is much too easily given), then being cared for by augustus was a rare gift indeed — and one that emma had no plan to take for granted. she had the grace to blush when he recalled the essentials that was required before donning any piece of clothing (perhaps not to everyone but most certainly to the princess). securing the towel in one hand, emma relieved him from her clothes with the other. “thank you augustus, truly.” her lips lifted at the corners to sedate and comfort. and while the smile might have been bright and beaming as the sun did when it was pleased, clouds pulled stubbornly at the corners. the wound was still fresh, but emma was resolved in her will to not cave into the pain. to do nothing was to admit defeat and as she declared to augustus the day she swung a letter opener at his face, so will she repeat the words to herself now, you will have to break me first— and emma was not broken yet. “i can dress myself, and i can find my clothes. i can do at least that on my own.” 

augustus pursed his lips and rose an eyebrow, taking a step back with his hands held up. “fine. while you get dressed, i’ll find something for the cuts on your cheeks,” he replied, eyes lingering where the vile man had clearly hit the princess. “do you have a pain medication preference?” he asked when her soreness was made clear by the expression on her face. emma might even try to argue with him about it, but more than one thing was obviously bothering her. he instinctively reached for his coat pocket, grumbling when he realized she’d made him shed it when they first came in. “i’ll just . . . give you some privacy,” he said quietly on his way out, stopping when he came to the door. it wasn’t normal for him to linger, ever, but most would say his behavior during this whole experience wasn’t normal for augustus tulach, pirate king. he turned around, hand resting on the door frame. “emma,” he said quietly yet firmly, enough for her to hear him. “i promise he won’t hurt you again. i promise no one will ever hurt you again,” he said in that same quiet voice, although there was a strain in it, like he was keeping a fire at bay. if she looked in his eyes, she’d see that fire burning there, the same fire that had frightened thousands. he glanced down at his feet, tapping his boot on the tile before speaking again, “if you’re out of sleeping clothes, i have some old t-shirts in the middle drawer. do whatever you want.” augustus didn’t know why he offered her his clothing, when clearly hers was clean, but he did know it made his stomach drop. he turned and paced out of the bathroom, going to look for that first aid kit again, just like he’d promised.

[amoraliisms]

can i just say damn augustus gotta lotta daughters

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

          it must have been an absurd-looking scene indeed— a five-foot slip of a princess to be enveloped by a scar ridden pirate that was twice her size; but she imagined that the island have had the burden of carrying stranger looking secrets.  emma, on the other hand, did not believe it to be strange at all. in fact, she thought it was precisely the kind of thing he would do. first to protect her from herself and a weapon she most certainly did not know how to use, then to shield her from the snake and wash its venom with his hands, and now to envelope her in his warmth before the cold could chance a kiss on her skin. all completed with a gentleness she had never thought him capable before and now she could not imagine it separate from his character. in front of her god and his church emma had forgiven him for his crimes against her and in the place of her grievance she laid her heart and with it the faith that he would not crush it in his hands. with this trust, and the safety of the towel wrapped around her, emma shrugged out of her under things and the pieces (now stained pink) joined the rest of her clothes on the white tile. parted only by the width of a breath emma bared both her heart and her body; the only thing to separate flesh from flesh was a towel. she could see the slight bow to his head in a gesture reminiscent of reverence, respect: he would not lay a finger on her without her word. she wants to say don’t, but she keeps her lips firmly locked together, lest it come out sounding like please. “my clothes, augustus,” she said instead; a reminder. when she had come into the practise of addressing him with such familiarity she could not say, but she held his name on her tongue as she might a flower to her breast: tenderly and with great affection.

he wrapped the towel tightly around her, holding it there while it soaked up the cooling water. augustus bit down on his cheek, hard, when he felt her shimmy out of her underwear and heard it hit the tile with a wet slap. they stood barely an inch apart, his gaze averted yet occasionally glancing back. “your clothes,” he repeated, before blinking quickly, mouth falling open just slightly in embarrassment. “your clothes, of course. er, stay here . . .” he handed her the two corners of the towel he’d been holding to keep her covered, looking away quickly in case something fell and revealed too much. augustus paced out of the room, pausing in the bedroom to shake his head and clear his boggled mind. “where are they?” he called out, before opening the bottom drawer of his dresser to see her clothes neatly folded inside. augustus rose an eyebrow, wondering if the maids had decided to do that themselves or if emma had started storing her clothes in his dresser herself. “found them,” he remembered to add so she didn’t have to leave the warm humid bathroom to search his cold bedroom. “i’m not sure if these are pajama’s, honestly. they’re soft,” he said with a shrug, bringing back to the bathroom a t-shirt and pants. “oh wait . . . you need underwear,” he remembered, biting hard on his cheek. “what sort do you wear around this time of day . . .?”

[amoraliisms]

emma-dubois:

        emma’s legs were drawn up to her chest as the tub filled with water and then drained again. repeating the ritual over and over until it assumed the clear colour that water was meant to be and not stained, swimming, in the violence that had occurred earlier. were it not for the purple flowers, her skin might have looked as it was: smooth, soft and untouched. but she knew that she would never achieve normalcy, not until the bruises turned a yellow shade at least and even then she was not sure she could look at them quite the same. seated beside her she felt augustus’ frame go rigid, a sharp line indicating a clenched jaw, the fingers at the mouth of the tub curling into fists; as if he was exerting great effort to keep a storm at bay. she looked down and saw her legs stretched out below the water, the purple flowers distorted by the ripples but still visible. “don’t.” she said, the stillness of the room making her voice soft. “regret nothing. you did as you were asked.” he heard her words and he obeyed even if he did not want to because it wasn’t about him. augustus proved to her that he was not the murderous beast the world made him out to be. the true villain will receive his dued justice, but for now there was nothing to regret, only to pick up the broken pieces and think about the next course of action.

at his question, she nodded and tipped her head back ever so slightly so that the water might run down her back. her lashes fell over her eyes. never had the princess allowed any of her maids to bathe her. they might draw the water on occasion but she always asked for her own privacy. to do otherwise was simply archaic. but in that moment she allowed his hand, gentle and careful as if the slightest force might cause her to break, to caress her head; to wash the stench of violence and blood from its strands, and when he was done she smiled at him, and thanked him.

god, how augustus wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood that the vile creature needed to pay. instead, he focused on combing through her hair, using the cup he had grabbed to clean and condition her long dark hair. she looked so . . . beautiful when she leaned her head back like that, baring her throat. augustus wanted to lean in, press gentle kisses down the shell of her ear, linger behind her jaw, brush down the curve of her neck, but he didn’t–couldn’t, not while she was like this. knowing what the pirate had done to her, how he had tried to touch her, he wouldn’t dare, at least not while she was in such a vulnerable position. no, instead, he’d take care of her, protect her gently and fiercely until she felt alright again. “are you ready to come out?” he asked quietly, standing up as he went to grab the towel he’d procured, fully intending to help dry her off and cocoon her in his arms.

augustus blinked, realizing how strange a sight this must be–the pirate king offering to dry off a princess. still, he adamantly held out the towel, allowing her the freedom to help herself out of the tub, although he was ready to catch her if she slipped. the protective instinct in him was irrepressible, not after he’d seen the terror on her face while she was fleeing the snake that had hurt her.