La Duchessa

come wake me up

[astheracea]

Pov: a forbidden affair

at first, my hands shaking in awe, I wondered how could she feel like home in such big rooms, between snow white porcelain and ivory. I was but a servant , but for the first time in my life, I could unexpectedly feel the feeling of warmth: no more hunger, no more cold chills. Sweetness, in those evenings spent cleaning dust from tapestry older than me or mending duchess' delicate laundry. Happiness, walking quietly on red carpets and marble stairs.

[astheracea]

pov: moonchild

time marked by convolutions of satellites,

getting drunk off moonlight,

scratches of nails on the wood and on my back

and eyes as yellow as the purest amber.

they never got me scared.

[astheracea]

Christmas lights 

[astheracea]

not counting all the minutes, the seconds, 

not holding my breath.

[astheracea]

celestial

you kissed a boy once and he had nightmares about bright burning lights for days. They said you are too much to handle, that being close to you is poison. Demanding. You tear away pieces of their souls if they get too close. And you have no idea of it.

still too soft for this world, rose petal cheeks and a honey smile your skin lined with purple cobwebs of veins you just can’t stop doing what feels right clinging to highness

you just don't fit. never did. the world always looks so cruel, you're not coldhearted like everyone else is, you've never learned to. a gentle soul.

you’ve never met your father. Mum never told you why he left, she just said once that your father was as beautiful as a shooting star. but you didn't quite understand what she meant. until one day, he came. he came because he had to kill you. he was sent to.

he crashed to the ground one random night. you were coming back home, and he flew down from the black sky in a blue light trail. you'd never seen an angel before. he was ethereal and holy. you would have stared at him forever.

you thought you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. because he had white big feathery wings behind his shoulder blades, they were mesmerizing. But they disappeared in just a blink of the eye. somehow your senses knew you had to run and hide from him, but you just couldn't stop yourself from asking if he needed any help. He was such a heavenly view. he looked up at you from the concrete where he landed kneeling down. He looked up at you, frowned, and fainted on the ground. Senseless. and you did something just as senseless, like taking him to your house and letting him rest on your sofa for the night.

when he woke up he breathed he was exhausted. he stayed there and made friends with your cat. he was gentle, celestial, even though he was always so distant, undecided... you almost worshiped him, you wanted him to never leave.  

one night he asked you if you knew what you were. you told him you didn't understand what he meant. he told you that you are a Nephilim. half human half angel. and that angels considered nephilims as abominations, monsters. he had teary eyes as he said he was a warrior angel, sent from the highest skies to kill you, because of what you were. he stayed silent for a while. And so did you.

[astheracea]

living in the State of Dreaming.

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stormy waves.

they are calling my name.

[astheracea]

we are so Paris when we kiss

intellectual demeanor and 

deep talking about politics and modern culture

Making love with the windows open, as the wind blows accordion melodies from the boulevard and

it's so cliché but

he studies philosophy, you study art and

smoke of cigarettes and red whine and

taking a train to Provence just to buy a bunch of lavender flowers, 

oh summer is so hot in France and

l'etoille and les années folles di Montparnasse and

post-its on the fridge that say bonjour mon amour, but

he is erratic and polemical, you are standoffish and indecisive

with your black beret

you bite your red polished nails and

he kisses your red stained lips while

the cafès are always so full of tourists on the rive droit where

you can see the whole city from Montmartre

until the rain starts to pour

and you think your heart may be fixed by the way he whispers je t'aime

while you walk hand in hand through le champs Elysee

"They’ll hang us in the Louvre, down the back, but who cares, still the Louvre"

[astheracea]

- meet me in the secret garden.

[astheracea]

paper boats

Some bar, downton, 1922.

-May I have this dance, m'lady?-

I'm sitting alone at my table and I look up from my bitter, amber liquor to meet his gaze. 

Bright blue eyes, an open hand towards me. And that smile. 

My eyes widens: I would recognize him anywhere, even after a thousand years, let alone seven. 

I slowly put my cigarette out and hold his hand as he guides me on the dance floor. 

The lights are soft and the band plays a sweet slow jazz music.

-professor- I smile

-Miss Castlewire, it's been a while- -a while indeed...- we slow dance, swinging between other couples -the last time I saw you we were in my father's office, me being expelled and you losing your job-

He laughs -one of the worst days of my career, indeed-

I look at his face: we were both so young back then, the War has drawn deep lines in his face but he is still handsome, just as he was seven years ago, when he was the youngest professor in my father's boarding school for ladies. 

In my school, when it was early 1912 and we thought everything was going to be fine. I still can picture the huge concrete building of the school.

Even though the War cut a gap in our lives, in everyone's life, a dirty cut so deep that it seems like the memories he is bringing back are waving at me from another life, not just from a few years ago.

-how have you been doing since that one last time I saw you?- I ask him

Tiny beds in a neat row in our dorm, school books in my hands, with scribbles on every page, I remember chatting with my girls on the rooftop at night, freezing our bones, underneath the black sky.

Roll calls every morning and every evening, rushing to get there in time, and low key hazing little girls. 

Ribbons and pearls, when your parents send you away and spend a whole fortune to get you educated and ready to be the perfect lady of the house, rather than have you around the house.

-I fought on the Alps for what seemed like a whole century.- he says - I've lost so many close friends, and somehow managed to come back home. And now a medal is all I've got- his eyes focusing on a memory, far away from me.

And the other girls becoming more like sisters, than just friends. We used to share all of our secrets, who knows what's happened to them now...

But my father was the head teacher, so misbehaving was particularly tasteful to me, honestly: secretly smoking in bathrooms, stealthy sneaking out to see country fairs. We've had so much fun.

He holds me close, and for a moment there I'm young again, I'm fearless and reckless and everything that's in between, as he whispers my name...  

-and you, Miss Castlewire?- he asks  

And that's how it all started, between me and the Professor.

I was just walking out from father's wood and leather office, after a huge scolding, he was still screaming behind, when I saw this young man waiting outside, just a few years older than me, with bright blue eyes and curly hair. I took just a quick revenge to father, winking at that stranger and sending him a kiss on my fingertips. Oh, you should have seen his face. Or father's. I don't know why I felt such a pleasure in torturing dad...

I only found out who that man was a few days later, when lessons started... But, oh, it felt so good having a secret love affair with the history professor, the new and very young one. I think I really loved him, as the adrenaline of the secret kept me intoxicated.

The girls used to call me crazy for the butterflies in my stomach and a sudden interest in historical subjects, they blame it on the hormones and on a huge daddy issue - "and that you really read too many weird books, to be honest". They kept on saying that I was boring because I didn't want to skip the rope anymore or go peeking through the bushes to see the boys from the other college play soccer in the evening. 

That I couldn't be what he wanted because what's he doing with a seventeen years old girl? Furthermore, he surely had a wife. But he didn't, he lived with an old aunt, it doesn't matter how I knew it.

Because, the right answers to his questions were always the ones I gave, and when he applauded someone in class, he always applauded me. I felt so special I was obviously his favorite, to be honest I guess that was the point.

It had never happened before that someone actually listened to what I had to say or that took a positive view on a thought of mine - because what's the use of a thinking wife?

I barely believe we were able to keep it secret that long.

I still remember the round glasses he used to wear when he was tired and his chalk white hands and all the secrets messages I used to leave for him, wrapped up in paper boats origami on the desk. He said he was a mess, acting so unprofessionally with a student, but, who cared, I only wanted him, and I told him between every kiss.

And when we met in silent library corridors, with the muffled noises of books, or in his office, in the smell of coffee, oh I would have never stopped...

-I helped as a nurse, in so many hospitals I've lost count- I answer.

But what we feared finally happened and one random day my father found out about us. 

Dad was an easy screamer but that day he didn't say a world, not a single syllable of accusation or rage, he just punched the professor in the face and send me away to my grandmother's, where I've spent lonely days until the War started. 

And I haven't heard of my young Professor ever since.

But here we are, at last. Slow dancing in a bar.

[astheracea]

how to hide who you really are.

even to yourself. 

[astheracea]

- academic 

[astheracea]

you were a vision 

in the morning 

when the light came through 

[astheracea]

ravenclaw

I think, therefore I am dangerous 

[astheracea]

Concept: a knight takes part into a conspiracy to kill the king; he is given the job to handle the king's only daughter and heir, but he falls in love in the process

I was a knight of the royal guard you were the heir to the throne I was the betrayal of the royal order because your king father was mad and evil we wanted revolution all we got was destruction

I miss myself sometimes I was young and arrogant back then I thought I was doing the right thing but I know better I wish I could protect you from everything I wish I could protect you from myself

we planned the assault others had to deal with the king I had to grab you and get rid of you an easy task, for I was young love rewards the brave bravery meant loving you but I've never been more afraid in my life

I had to hide who I really was to you I had to hide it even to myself because you thought I was saving you please, forgive yourself for believing in those who were meant to betray you you heart is pure there’s no need to blame it

you were not how they promised me you were so casually cruel in making me fall for you crushing all my intentions with your kindness I couldn't handle your brightness you burnt my eyes the moment I got close enough to see the colour in yours

but I learnt you can't scare fire I see it when I close my eyes you are metaphysical you bloomed into a warrior to take back what you knew was yours in your blood and in your bones

I was sent to end your bloodline now all I have to do is protect this perfect thing and break a sinful promise to keep an older one because you will give this wretched world the Queen it deserves.

-royalcore series 

[astheracea]

you give me a rush, sugar.

[astheracea]

slytherin

cunning, ambitious, resourceful, shrewd, determined. (disgusted noise)