𝙴'𝚈𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝙰 𝚁𝙴𝚉𝙺𝚄.

𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸.

[beblade-a]

this is an independent and private roleplay blog for  malyen oretsev  from the  grishaverse  novels. portrayal will be primarily based on the books and some show influences,  with the contribution of my own headcanons.  transformed by eza,   24,   they/them.

this blog will contain spoilers for the novels. I tag everything ‘grishaverse spoilers’ along with the book it corresponds to if you want to blacklist that.

carrd.   memes.

blogroll:   @solsoldats   /  @fateviled​

[biblade]

𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤.  private & highly selective MALYEN ORETSEV of leigh bardugo’s grishaverse.  primarily book + headcanon based with show influences.  become by eza, 24, they/them.

[miriammaisel]

MALINA ROMANCE WEEK: DAY ONE ♡ BOOK QUOTES (insp.)

“He would kiss her neck and whisper new names in her ear: beauty, beloved, cherished, my heart. They had an ordinary life, full of ordinary things-if love can ever be called that.”-Leigh Bardugo, Ruin & Rising

[beblade-a]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄   .   infernil

“ what? ” marie asks in a sharp whisper, “ no! ” marie looks at mal for a moment before taking him by the hand and pulling him into her quarters. “ saints, i hope not! why, what’s happened? what did he say to you? ”  it’s only been a few weeks since she missed her cycle, but already the inferni feels as though she can feel the presence of her and mal’s child. the notion that aleksander might know fills her with equal measures of terror and a protective rage that she had never imagined herself capable of, even for mal. 

      to  have  something    new  worth  fighting  for  is  an  odd  sensation.    mal  finds  it  hard  to  wrap  his  mind  around  how  this  has  come  to  pass,    the  possibility  of  a  future,    a  family.    he  can’t  help  the  unease  that  comes  from  this  secrecy,    even  as  he  shakes  his  head,    trying  to  bring  calm  to  them  both.      “no,    nothing.    he  isn’t—”      he  would  never  know,    not  for  as  long  as  mal  could  help  it.    a  new,    fierce  protectiveness  had  surged  since  learning  of  the  truth.    it’s  all  mal  can  do  to  breath,    shaking  his  head  gently.      “he  asked  for  you.    about  you.    i  suspected  he  knew  about  us,    but...”      a  beat,    plans  mal  never  allowed  himself  to  even  consider  coming  forth  in  his  mind.      “we  have  to  do  something  before  he  does,    don’t  we?”

[ravenbrenna09]

(x)

[beblade-a]

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀   .   livingprophecy

            𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑  𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒  𝐀𝐒  fast  as  it  appeared,  leaving  her  feeling  hollow.      haunted.      neither  of  them  are  ghosts  and  yet  that  feeling  persists,  keeping  them  from  having  peace.  with  the  life  she  has  been  forced  into,  to  have  mal  haunt  her  nightmares  despite  being  the  only  one  who’d  ever  shown  her  a  shred  of  kindness  was  the  last  thing  she  ever  wanted.  because  if  she  stops  being  angry,  what  is  truly  left?  a  shell  of  a  girl  who  can’t  recognizes  herself,  and  a  boy  doomed  to  the  same  fate?  genya  almost  reaches  for  him,  to  hold  calloused  hands  in  hers,  hold  him  in  her  arms,  HAVE  HIM  ONCE  AGAIN.  instead  she  nods  once  at  his  words,  swallowing  thickly  around  the  knot  that  felt  too  much  like  grief.  it  feels  like  acknowledgement  enough:      she  should  be  worth  more,  and  it  shouldn’t  be  enough,  but  there’s  only  so  much  she  can  ask  for  before  her  throat  feels  raw.  the  tailor  watches  his  every  movement,  as  if  taking  her  eyes  off  him,  leaving  herself  vulnerable,  is  actually  something  to  fear.      (is  it?IS  HE  THAT  FAR  GONE?)      fear  controlled  her  life  for  so  long;      she  needs  to  find  the  courage  not  to  let  it.  she  used  to  find  courage  those  nights  after  breaking  into  so  many  pieces  she  thought  she  couldn’t  be  fixed,  when  he  always  managed  to  find  a  way.  

            𝐒𝐇𝐄  𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐒  𝐎𝐔𝐓  a  sharp  breath  at  his  comment,  something  akin  to  a  laugh  but  cursed  nonetheless.      “i’ve  no  reason  to  change  it.  the  only  thing  that  really  changes  are  the  books.”      the  darkling  still  brought  her  them  occasionally  like  some  kind  of  peace  offering,  and  she’d  add  it  to  her  shelf  of  fantasies  to  escape  into.      (mal  didn’t  bring  them  anymore:      she  reread  the  ones  he  brought  a  thousand  times,  and  it  wasn’t  enough).      genya  takes  a  sip  from  the  glass  then,  relishing  the  burning  feeling  and  wrinkling  her  nose  all  the  same.  if  she  was  lucky,  the  kvas  would  make  her  come  to  her  senses,  tell  him  to  leave  like  he  did  before,  so  she  didn’t  have  to  bear  HER  SCARRED  AND  MANGLED  HEART.  if  she  was  luckier  still,  he  would  drink  enough  to  bear  HIS  OWN,  allow  her  to  crawl  back  into  the  space  she  fit  into  before.  but  she  isn’t  the  only  one  being  shuttered  from  his  heart  —  it  pained  her,  being  a  bystander,  not  even  able  to  talk  sense  into  the  tracker,  considering  she  wasn’t  meant  to  know  anything.      (unfortunately  for  the  both  of  them,  she  sees  it).      she  considers  her  words,  before  making  a  decision  that  could  ruin  everything.      “please,  NO  MORE  SMALL  TALK.  it’s  worse  than  your  silence.”

      the  weight  of  those  secrets    left  locked  tight  within  him  is  suffocating.    not  for  the  first  time  since  picking  up  the  bottle  and  making  his  way  to  her  room,    mal  wonders  if  this  was  a  mistake.    but  there  were  many  mistakes  already  made      (  he’d  left  her  alone;    he’d  chosen  his  own  survival  over  her  comfort,    over  bringing  any  remaining  shred  of  joy  to  make  her  smile  again  ),    and  there  were  many  more  still  to  make.    mal  wishes  that  an  apology  could  come  easy,    that  it  might  spill  out  without  the  thousands  of  others  emotions  that  were  tied  down  to  it.    but  there  were  things  she  could  not  know,    secrets  that  were  kept  buried  even  deeper  because—  because  he  was  selfish,    and  to  have  her  know  the  truth  would  be  a  different  kind  of  destruction.    the  final  nail  on  his  coffin,    or  her  refusal  to  accept  it.    he  isn’t  sure  which  scares  him  more.    she’d  get  what  she  wanted,    when  this  war  ended;    and  mal?    well,    he  didn’t  care,    THE  DARKLING’S  VISION  MATTERED  MOST.    more  than  any  wish,    any  dream  of  a  future  for  himself  that  could  not  come  to  pass.    it  was  why  he  had  to  survive,    to  shut  his  heart  out  entirely.    she  would  understand,    one  day;    he  prayed  she’d  be  able  to  understand.

      fingers  curls  over  the  glass  in  his  hand,    too  wrapped  up  in  thought  and  this  one  tense  moment  to  let  himself  drink  quite  yet.    at  the  mention  of  the  books,    he  can’t  help  but  flinch  ever  so  slightly,    eyes  flickering  to  the  shelf.    mal  can  still  remember  the  last  book  he  brought  her,    the  feel  of  it’s  worn  leather  surface  in  his  hands  when  he’d  gifted  it;    he’d  wanted  to  make  her  happy,    even  for  a  second.      “it’s  grown  into  quite  a  collection.”      no  thanks  to  him  and  his  absence.    a  sigh  flitters  out  from  his  mouth,    quiet  enough  to  be  just  another  breath.    he  doesn’t  know  what  he’s  searching  for  here,    what  he  expects  to  gain  from  this  visit,    but  he  can’t  walk  away  now.    not  even  when  her  words  wash  over  him,    squeezing  tightly  around  a  heart  that  shouldn’t  exist.    a  nod  is  the  only  thing  he  can  offer,    using  a  quick  sip  of  the  harsh  liquor  to  steel  himself.    HOW  MUCH  WAS  GIVING  TOO  MUCH?    he  falters,    letting  himself  give  into  the  urge  to  lean  closer.      “i  thought  that  coming  here  at  all  would  make  the  words  i  wanted  to  say  come  easily,    but  that  was  a  fool’s  dream.”      he  can’t  meet  her  gaze.      “and  i  have  been—  a  fool;    someone  unworthy  of  calling  themselves  your  friend.    i  never  meant…”      but  he  had,    and  that  knowledge  burns  worse  within  him.    he’d  known  what  he  had  to  do,    to  keep  himself  afloat,    and  he’d  thought  the  price  worth  it.    he  was  wrong.

[malinatrash]

[lizzybizzyart]

the boy and the girl

I can't believe mal and alina own my whole damn heart

[beblade-a]

𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀   .  defiesnature

“ …” eyes slightly wide, she tries to adjust back to that composure she’d been taught but never good at. it had been a war zone, a full blown war zone and if - the likelihood of him surviving, had been more than her own. but not much. maybe he just meant half suli. though he did look just the slightest bit older than her. either way, it could’ve been nothing. it probably was nothing. a blown breath, “ I had a family once, “ she says uneasily, “ so I get the feeling.”

she’s been here since she was five years old. clutching a fraying book and bordering on hysterical. she’d been picked up, dusted off - but she’d been allowed to keep her name. who she’d been. they looked similar enough - way too similar. though there was no damn way her brother had found himself all the way in keramzin. not alone. “ my older brother disappeared. the rest are dead. “ does she even want it to be him? is that why she’s confessing more to a damned stranger than she ever had to anyone else ? “ it’s what happens in war.”

      it  would  have  been    too  much  of  a  perfect  coincidence  if  it  were  her.    and  it  made  no  sense,    there  had  been  no  reports  of  survivors.    of  course,    there  wouldn’t  have  been,    not  if  they    —    she,    the  resemblance  was  uncanny    —  had  been  picked  up  by  grisha  and  taken  to  the  little  palace.    unease  grips  him,      that  same  itch  that  tells  him  she  is  too  familiar  to  look  away  from.    “how  many?”      he  can’t  help  but  blurt  out  the  question,    mouth  drawn  in  a  tight  line  as  he  holds  out  against  the  hope  that  wants  to  bloom  within  his  heart.    he’s  lost  so  much,    he  cannot  ask  to  gain  something  after  it’s  all  become  so  bleak.      “your  family,    how  many  did  you  lose?”

      something  in  him  snaps,    grief  ripping  into  him  all  over  again  at  her  words.    the  rest  are  dead.    he  knows  that  feeling  well,    it  eats  at  him  even  now  when  the  loss  is  more  than  a  distant  blur  in  his  memory.    his  glance  falls  away,    just  for  a  moment,    eyes  focusing  on  anything  else  so  he  can  gain  his  composure.      “i  wasn’t  with  them  when  it  happened,    but  they…”      he  can’t  remember  their  names.    more  than  anything,    that  knowledge  stings.      “my  parents.    my  siblings,    twins—    i  tried  to  come  back,    to  look  for  them,    but  everyone  said  they  were  gone.”      and  maybe  that  wasn’t  the  case,    maybe  things  were  different.    it  was  hard  not  to  hope,    but  he  wanted  something.

[beblade-a]

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌   .   evermxre·

the response almost makes him laugh. a brow arches slightly as he withdraws the extremity, head tilting as he retorts,  “ and, exactly what IS the type, hmm? ”  amusement twinkles within blue eyes, a sip of the drink in hand being taken. he knows the answer to the question ; grisha aren’t typically found lingering at parties and balls as just partygoers— they’re usually being put on DISPLAY, not mingling in the crowds like the rest of the gentry.              “ more broody and sullen? or, perhaps more show-off-ish? i can do those things, i assure you, i’m just not in the mood. ”  charm and charisma comes easily to adam— it’s been IMPORTANT throughout his life, another tool in his arsenal. after all, when one’s father hates their child’s abilities, mastering something such as charm is of the utmost necessity. still, since he hasn’t ever properly answered mal’s question, he finally adds,  “ and, yes, i am very much so grisha. a tailor, to be exact. comes in handy, sometimes ; it makes for a nice party trick. ”                                                 adam shrugs, leaning against the wall behind him. blue eyes flicker out towards the mingling crowds, before sliding back onto mal.  “ i could make your hair a nice shade of blue if i had the right base. ”  he’s TEASING. trying to add just a touch of LEVITY.

      maybe  if  mal    were  anyone  else,    he  would  be  embarrassed.    to  make  a  generalization  concerning  grisha  was  unfair  —  no  two  people  were  alike,    and  the  grisha  were  just  as  unique.    but  mal  had  spent  too  long  around  fellow  otkazat'sya  to  know  how  to  think  of  it  any  different.    (  he  was  trying.    for  alina;    the  best  friend  who  was  more  unique  than  anyone  could  have  anticipated.  )      he  gives  a  shrug,    eyes  drawing  over  the  other’s  frame  with  only  a  hint  of  disinterest,    analyzing  him  for  those  very  traits  mentioned.      “i  suppose  a  party  is  hardly  the  place  to  brood,    though  showing  off…  that’s  another  matter  entirely.”      that  was  why  mal  was  here,    after  all.    to  be  the  charming  yet  disgraced  soldier  who  had  tracked  the  stag,    following  the  sun  summoner’s  every  whim  due  to  a  lifetime  of  loyalty  and  affection.    it  was  hard  not  to  scoff  out  loud  at  the  thought.    it  made  mal  brood  plenty  when  among  company.    it’s  the  words,    party  trick,    that  have  him  rolling  his  eyes.      “i’ve  met  another  tailor  before  —    she’s  not  someone  i  would  underestimate.”      

      there  wasn’t  a  grisha  out  there  who  wasn’t  terrifying  in  their  own  right,    and  as  charming  as  this  one  was…    there  was  something  underneath.    THERE  ALWAYS  WAS.    mal  found  a  smile  on  his  lips  despite  himself,    not  the  fake  thing  that  he’d  plastered  on  plenty  enough  this  night.      “i’m  not  a  big  fan  of  blue.    green,    maybe,    i’d  consider.”      a  gentle  shake  of  his  head,    eyes  flitting  around  them  to  the  attention  of  the  party  goers  that  he  seemed  incapable  of  avoiding.    everyone  wanted  to  know  more  about  alina  starkova,    their  newest  saint.      “not  that  i  need  another  reason  for  people  to  stare.”

[beblade-a]

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄   .   appleyed·

🌿                                                      𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡  𝐚  𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭  𝐢𝐬  meant  to  be  ran  through,    with  hands  spread  wide  open  to  feel  the  leaves  and  ferns  kiss  your  fingertips.    a  forest  like  this  feels  endless  and  lawless  and  feral  :    anything  might  happen  if  you  come  at  dusk  or  dawn.    this  kind  of  forest  makes  her  feel  wild  again,    untamed  by  the  color  of  her  kefta  or  the  regards  of  the  first  and  second  armies.    she  blends  in  easily  here  :    like  calls  to  like.    the  late  sun  catches  in  her  hair,    in  the  shadows  of  her  lashes,    in  her  lungs.    the  wind  brushes  its  perfume  along  —  the  scent  of  wild  violets  and  mayflower.    he  blends  in  here  too  :    his  smile  comes  less  guarded,    his  laugh  is  less  clipped,    his  gaze  travels  from  the  tufts  of  leaves  on  the  forest  floor  back  up  to  the  bark  of  a  tree  and  so  on.    like  these  woods  are  a  book  he’s  enraptured  by  —  like  she’s  the  flower  he’s  pressed  between  the  pages  to  welcome  him  back.

  she  inhales  a  breath  of  faux  shock,    hand  splayed  at  her  neck,          “  corporal  oretsev,    are  confessing  you’d  prefer  to  live  the  farmer’s  life  ?  ”          the  facade  lasts  no  longer  than  the  sentence,    and  her  briefly  shocked  expression  returns  to  the  easy  laugh  he  earns  as  quickly  as  ever.    it’s  an  easy  fantasy  to  conjure  up  —–  those  beautiful  jurda  blossoms,    the  promise  of  slow  and  sunny  days.    the  image  is  so  tangible  it  aches.

    “  just  you  and  me,  ”          andromeda  repeats  slowly.    she  craves  the  promise  of  the  words  and  resists  begging  to  hear  them  again.    the  proposition  sends  relentless  chills  down  her  spine  that  feel  like  little  jolts  of  electricity  —–  excitement,    she  realizes  with  a  breathy  sigh.          “  i  like  the  sound  of  that  very  much.  ”          she  shifts  against  the  tree,    settling  into  the  space  he  allots  to  look  up  at  him  through  her  lashes.      (    an  onlooker  might  see  an  unruly  girl  finally  being  tamed,    pinned  between  the  arms  of  a  straight  -  laced  soldier  with  a  heart  brimming  with  gold,    but  she  knows  better  than  to  see  only  that  shade  of  truth.    honey  eyes  see  this  instead  :    a  girl  and  a  boy  who  have  faced  too  many  hardships,    craving  something  to  smudge  away  the  horrors  of  the  past.    a  sanctuary,    whether  that  be  a  place  or  a  person  or  both.    )      she  stands  on  her  tip  -  toes  to  brush  her  lips  against  his  once,    twice  to  press  a  lingering,    soft  kiss  into  the  corner  of  his  mouth.          “  and  .  .  .  the  way  you  say  it.  ”

      wanting  feels  like    far  too  much,    the  dull  ache  of  longing  sounding  too  much  like  the  pulse  of  his  veins.    it  tastes  like  her  too;    not  that  of  her  mouth  pressed  against  him,    nothing  as  simple  as  that.    but  freshly  bloomed  wildflowers  pressed  under  his  tongue,    the  sunlight  kissing  his  skin  from  where  it  breaches  through  the  everyday  afternoon  haze.    though  they  exist  in  two  completely  different  words,    here?    they  are  similar,    both  woven  together  by  a  need  to  be  free  and  to  know  all  that  life  and  nature  has  to  offer.    he  could  get  lost  on  her,    the  tracker  knows,    eyes  and  body  so  attuned  to  every  part  of  her  that  the  passage  of  time  would  seem  unimportant  in  comparison.    and  together,    they  could  both  just  as  easily  get  lost  in  the  world  around  them.    they  belong  out  here,    and  maybe,    just  maybe,    THEY  BELONG  TOGETHER.  

      he  laughs,    the  soft  curve  of  his  lips  glowing  with  fondness  for  her  and  her  alone.      “and  what  if  i  said  i  would?    a  rank  isn’t  permanent,    what  i  choose  to  do  with  my  life  after  this…  that  is  what  matters.”      who  he  chose  to  be  with.    to  pick  his  own  path,    away  from  the  army—  it  tastes  like  something  forbidden,    it  is  forbidden.    and  yet,    the  difficulty  of  swallowing  such  a  feat  disappears  every  time  he  touches  her  skin,    hears  the  gentle  hum  of  everything  within  her  and  around  them  in  this  world  that  has  so  much  to  give.    here,    nothing  feels  impossible.

      eyes  flutter  shut  as  they  meet.    for  that  instant  where  she  presses  her  lips  to  his,    something  loud  reverberates  within,    so  familiar,    calling  to  him.    it  refuses  to  dull  as  laughter  spills  out,    his  fingers  deftly  pressing  a  strand  of  her  hair  behind  her  ear.    “i  don’t  make  promises  lightly…”      the  words  are  almost  too  hard  to  give,    and  he  swallows,    palm  gliding  over  her  cheek  and  coming  to  rest  over  the  crook  of  her  neck.    it  feels  almost  selfish,    to  want  to  keep  her  close  to  him  for  as  long  as  he  can.    neither  of  them  belong  to  each  other  —  THEY  ARE  INSTRUMENTS  OF  THIS  WAY    and  yet,    he  wants  the  promise,    FOR  HER  TO  HAVE  IT  TOO.    his  smile  falters,    just  for  a  moment,    but  it  fixes  itself  easily  as  he  gazes  into  her  eyes.      “but  if  there  is  an  end  of  this  war  on  the  horizon,    if  we  can  both  make  it  out  of  this.    i  want  it  to  be  the  two  of  us,    for  as  long  as  we  live.”

[biblade]

𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤.  private & highly selective MALYEN ORETSEV of leigh bardugo’s grishaverse.  primarily book + headcanon based with show influences.  become by eza, 24, they/them.

[beblade-a]

𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈   .   livingprophecy

          𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘  how  their  story  must  be?  nikolai  spent  months  trying  to  apologize,  and  all  he  wanted  was  a  chance  to  go  back  to  those  nights.  but  the  darkling  marched  on  os  alta  and  he  ran,  not  even  sure  if  mal  or  alina  were  alive.  then,  at  the  spinning  wheel,  he  gave  mal  space  —  he’s  not  sure  he  wanted  to  see  him  either,  the  pit  in  his  stomach  growing  every  moment  they  crept  closer  to  the  end  of  this  war.      NEITHER  OF  THEM  KNEW  HOW  TO  EXIST  OUTSIDE  OF  WAR.      but  it  brought  more  than  either  of  them  could  handle,  and  he  was  drowning  all  over  again;      how  is  he  supposed  to  look  at  the  tracker  and  tell  him  not  only  that  he  loved  alina,  but  that  he  loves  him  too,  the  same  as  he  always  has?  and  he’ll  only  keep  hurting  mal,  hurting  himself,  so  maybe  it’s  easier  to  push  him  away  himself  instead  of  letting  it  happen  to  him,  because  it’ll  hurt  less  that  way.  he  doesn’t  have  to  deal  with  the  heartbreak  of  a  third  rejection.      (of  course,  he  knows  it’s  not  true:      no  matter  what  happens,  he  will  have  more  heartbreak  than  he  can  ever  comprehend).      so  nikolai  will  continue  to  self  destruct,  since  it’s  all  he  knows,  all  he’s  ever  done  in  times  like  this.  he  hasn’t  slept  more  than  a  few  hours  in  the  last  week,  his  gut  hasn’t  settled  enough  to  eat  more  than  a  few  bites,  and  he’s  denying  himself  THE  ONE  THING  THAT  ACTUALLY  MIGHT  HELP,  and  that’s  mal.

          𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘,  𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐒  his  gaze  off  the  floor,  eyes  snapping  up  at  the  words,  and  he  only  feels  dizzier.  if  it  was  so  much  easier,  then  why  wouldn’t  he  stop?  how  many  times  did  he  have  to  tell  mal  that  he  didn’t  want  this  care,  that  it  was  fucking  overwhelming  and  he  was  too  scared  to  admit  he  needed  it?  the  weight  on  mal’s  shoulders  is  the  same  as  the  one  on  his  own,  whether  he  liked  it  or  not,  and  he  could  be  the  one  to  help  him.      (AND  NIKOLAI  WON’T  LET  HIM).      he  feels  the  grind  of  his  teeth  against  each  other,  forcing  himself  to  keep  the  icy  look  on  his  face.      “saints  forbid  i  make  things  easy  for  you.”      words  that  could  have  once  been  said  with  humor  and  light  were  only  cursed  and  hollow  now.      “we’re  talking  now.  you’re  simply  not  hearing  what  you  want.”      his  tongue  is  a  knife  and  he  hates  it.      (he’ll  write  about  this  into  a  letter  for  alina  later,  one  that  would  never  be  received,  telling  her  he  was  too  weak  to  resist  a  fight  with  mal;      she’d  hate  them  both  for  it  and  he  knows  it).      but  it  only  gets  worse.      “i  thought  you  said  i  wasn’t  ever  broken.”      he’d  spent  so  long  believing  he  was  in  too  many  pieces  to  be  put  back  together,  but  there’d  always  been  one  person  who  didn’t  think  that  —  maybe  this  is  proof  that  HE  IS  TOO  FAR  GONE.      “what  do  you  want  from  me,  mal?  this  will  never  be  like  it  was,  and  i’m  not  stupid  enough  to  hope  it  will  anymore.  don’t  act  like  i’m  the  poor  boy  you  tried  to  save  all  those  years  ago.”

      if  he  thought   that  getting  on  his  knees  and  begging  for  nikolai  to  be  honest  would  garner  any  results,    the  tracker  would  do  it  in  an  instant.    but  there  is  too  much  wrong  between  them,    that  was  not  given  the  chance  to  heal,    that  continued  to  bleed  into  their  lives  that  had  unceremoniously  crashed  together  again.    it  had  been  love  first,    the  taste  of  something  neither  of  them  were  truly  familiar  with.    then,    it  had  become  loss  and  absence.    when  the  dust  had  cleared  and  the  fold  finally  fallen,    mal  had  wondered  for  weeks  if  that  was  all  they  were  meant  for;    love  lost,    that  familiar  ache,    and  absence.    but  they  were  meant  for  more  —    ALINA  WISHED  MORE  FOR  THEM.    to  let  everything  continue  to  fall  apart  was  an  insult  to  her  memory,    to  the  gentle  scarred  palm  which  had  taken  his  face  in  her  hands  time  and  time  again  and  only  asked  for  a  brighter  future.    saints,    he  misses  her  so  much  that  it  hurts  to  breathe,    seeing  her  shining  in  his  thoughts  constantly  despite  that  spark  being  gone.    everything  he  does  now  is  for  her,    because  to  live  for  himself…    he  doesn’t  know  how  to,    not  anymore.    but  he  can  do  this  for  her.    it’s  that  resolve  that  he  clings  to  that  keeps  him  from  giving  up  on  what  is  buried  under  their  grief.      “when  have  you  ever  made  anything  easy?”      a  shake  of  his  head,    feeling  the  very  weight  of  the  effort  he  pushed  forth  that  couldn’t  possibly  be  returned.    he  wishes  it  didn’t  have  to  be  so  blunt,    to  be  friendly  and  not—  not  whatever  this  is,    what  they’ve  made  of  it.

      the  seconds  that  pass  between  the  other’s  words  feel  like  an  eternity,    the  silence  that  mal  meets  them  with  thick  enough  that  it’s  hard  to  focus.      “this  isn’t  us  talking,    this  is  you  refusing  to  listen;    this  is  you  locking  me  out  all  over  again.    but  maybe  those  things  seem  similar  to  you.”      he  can’t  keep  the  bitter  edge  from  leaking  through,    when  silence  is  all  he  was  familiar  with  for  so  long.    but  he  won’t  let  this  be  the  final  straw,    the  thing  to  push  him  away.    there  is  more  to  be  said.    he  takes  a  step  closer,    aching  to  reach  out  and  hold  the  other  in  his  arms  the  way  he  did  what  felt  like  a  lifetime  ago.    that  it  isn’t  his  place  anymore,    if  it  ever  was,    and  all  he  can  do  is  close  the  distance  between  them  with  careful  stride,    gaze  unwavering  as  he  regards  nikolai’s  face,    showing  nothing  of  the  hurt  he  knows  this  is  meant  to  cause.    his  eyes  soften  with  a  gentle  apology.      “you  and  i  have  been  hurting  for  far  too  long  to  pretend  we’re  anything  but  broken.    that  doesn’t  make  us  any  less  human.”      they  weren’t  saints,    they  weren’t  grisha,    they  were  two  men  stuck  in  circumstances  beyond  their  understanding.    but  they  were  still  breathing,    still  fighting,    and  that  had  to  count  for  something.    again,    the  desire  to  reach  out  takes  ahold  of  him,    if  only  just  to  grab  nikolai  by  the  shoulders  and  shake  some  sense  into  him.    “i  want  one  honest  answer,    nik.    just…  just  one.    even  if  the  people  who  we  used  to  be  are  gone,    i  still  remember  what  that  face  looked  like  without  the  mask.”      hands  tighten  into  fists  at  his  side  instead,    swallowing  down  a  plea  for  something  he  cannot  ask  of  this  man  who  has  become  king.      “i  want  to  know  that  there  is  hope  for  the  futures  that  she  wanted  for  us  both.”      he  wants  to  beg  nikolai  not  to  destroy  himself,    but  that  isn’t  for  him  to  ask.

[beblade-a]

just a little heads up that i’m going to be moving and remaking this blog in the next few days! i need the fresh start and am hoping that with a little more organization i’ll be able to get my muse back up, but i will be keeping most of the threads i currently owe.

[beblade-a]

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀   .   solsnkta

“ a menace? no, he can’t be! look at those eyes; are those the eyes of a menace? ” alina laughs again. she knows this puppy will quickly learn he will get whatever he wants from her. she’s a sucker and she knows it. she rests her head against mal’s shoulder, totally content. “ hm. that is a good point. and saints know they more than deserve a break from the children. they are the true menaces, i suspect. ”

      he  feigns  consideration    as  he  look  at  the  animal,    holding  him  up  for  alina  to  gaze  into  the  sweet  creature’s  eyes.      “those  certainly  aren’t  the  eyes  of  a  well  behaved  young  man.”      they  were  both  goners,    the  way  the  dog  whined  in  his  grasp  made  his  own  heart  melt.    and  the  way  she  looked  to  him,    mal  knew  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  before  he  became  the  new  spoiled  addition  to  their  household.    he  doesn’t  mind,    though,    squeezing  her  tightly  against  him.    a  kiss  is  pressed  to  her  forehead,    letting  himself  linger  before  glancing  down  to  the  little  ball  of  fur.      “we  should  take  the  kids  and  dogs  out  to  the  meadow.    it’ll  be  good  for  them  all  to  get  some  fresh  air,    a  chance  to  relax.”      and  for  them  to  relax,    in  the  place  that  had  always  brought  them  comfort.

[beccs]

MAL ORETSEV Shadow and Bone | 1.02

[saintzoya]

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow