for i am lion-hearted.

doesn't she wear the WORLD well ? ; indie oc tracking the tag lviitsa

[airlessgrace-blog]

    Rina —

( in a few minutes, or even a few seconds, she    knows that rina will leave. and when she does,    deidre isn’t always sure that she will come back.    some things are too much; deidre never knows   when her insensitivity is the final straw. saying   sorry is never enough. )

     What do you want me to do, then? I’ll – whatever              you want, I’ll do it. 

[lviitsa]

( don’t look at me like that, don’t say those   things, don’t, don’t, don’t. 

  she ducks her head, tries to hide her face,   the burning heat in her eyes. she won’t cry   in front of deidre, not now and not ever, she   hopes, because the only person she has ever   cried in front of has been valentin, who has   seen her through all of it, everything. )

          I don’t know.

( she swallows around the lump in her throat. )

          I don’t know what you want me to say.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( rina is predictable in this; she’s here, on    her bed, but changing the subject. deidre      leans over, presses a long, lingering kiss    to her cheek, and pulls away. )

    I require luxury to stay at my prime. 

( the bed is hardy ‘luxury’ but it is nice. ) 

   I will not complain if we must share it. 

[lviitsa]

( heat creeps into her face when deidre leans   over. as familiar as she is with this, with her,   it’s still startling, sometimes, how easily she   is flustered by it. )

          Ask and they give it to you, then?            How lucky you must be. 

( she props her chin in her hand and looks at   deidre, eyebrows lifting. )

          You must be feeling very generous.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( she can see where she’s messed up;    her hands, unclenched now, lay limp at   her sides. she wants to reach out to rina,    to do something, but all she has right now    are words. and when the it’s not for show,   deidre has never learned how to speak from   the heart. )

   I’m sorry. 

( it comes out weak. ) 

    I’m sorry. 

( this time, stronger. )

[lviitsa]

( she wants to leave, like she always does when   things are like this, because it’s easier. it always   has been; it is what she’s always done. fighting   with deidre is different than fighting with valentin   or one of the others; somehow, it hurts more, the   sort of sharp pain she can’t swallow down and   hide. it leaves her feeling empty, like all of that   anger has done nothing but gnaw away at her   ribs. 

  before, in the beginning, she’d thought that she   hated deidre for doing this to her; sometimes, she   thinks she still might. )

          I don’t want you to apologize.

( arms folded across her stomach, fingers digging   in her sides, she shakes her head, looks at deidre. )

          I just -- don’t.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( she pats the side of the bed next to her,   wanting to see if rina is actually going    to go through with her words. )

[lviitsa]

( she studies deidre for a long, long moment,   like this is a dare, like they haven’t done this   before. finally, she drags herself out of the   chair, takes her time crossing the room. 

  lounging across deidre’s bed like she belongs   there, she smirks. )

          Your bed is more comfortable than mine.

( like she hasn’t been there before. )

          I see who the golden children are. I ought           to complain.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( she does not know how to respond.    with her brothers, she has never been held    accountable for her own actions when   it comes to being so careless. never growing   up has she thought about the more sensitive   side of things. ) 

   — Alright. 

( the fight has left her. )

[lviitsa]

( that’s the difference between them -- she   has always been held accountable for what   she’s done. by herself, by her brother, who   has never let anything slip past a day in his   life, especially not hurt. he is too gentle for   that, a softening point for all of her too sharp   edges. 

  she looks at deidre, bites the inside of her    cheek. this isn’t what she wants. )

          All right. 

( it’s a hollow echo; she is tired of fighting,    especially with her. she doesn’t know what   to do now that it’s done. )

          That’s it, then.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( she’s a bit caught off guard by her quick    wink. ) 

    – practice requires a few hours, you know. 

[lviitsa]

          Then it’s a good thing I do not have           anywhere to be, isn’t it?

[airlessgrace-blog]

     I do care!

( her fist clench at her sides, agitation and frustration    clear in her body’s movements. she hates this dragging   of things – she wants resolution right away, a fixed    point. she cannot do this with her impatience. she stares   back at rina, foot stomping. ) 

     Of course I do care!

[lviitsa]

( deidre can stomp her feet and curl her   fists and yell at her all she wants. she   has long since tired of the theatrics of   it. )

          Then start acting like it.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( she’s quick to find another weak spot. )

    Perhaps more practice, then? 

[lviitsa]

( she leans back in her chair, legs dangling    over the edge, feet swinging. 

  tipping her head to look at deidre, she winks,   grinning wide. ) 

          It might be beneficial. 

[airlessgrace-blog]

  Maybe I was aiming for other places. 

( it’s always fun to tease her. )

[lviitsa]

          -- -- oh.

( red creeps up her neck. )

          Your aim could use some work.

[airlessgrace-blog]

  Tell me how I’m supposed   to feel. 

[lviitsa]

          Like -- like -- -- 

( she stops, takes a step back, because she   can’t look at deidre when she’s like this; it   makes her too angry, all that spite swelling   up. deidre, who stands there like she expects   all the answers to simply be handed to her,   like she is unbothered by all of it, like she is   bored, waiting. )

          Like you care about this at all.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( blows a kiss. ) 

[lviitsa]

( pointing to her cheek, )

          -- you missed.

[iitoris-blog]

Lucy Westenra + That Outdated Text Post Meme

[fearless-in-motion]

[x], [x]

[lviitsa]

          Better luck next time, maybe.

[art-and-things-of-beauty]

Georges Frédéric Rötig (1873-1961) - Pencil studies of Lions and Tigers.

[airlessgrace-blog]

( she feels even more guilty; it’s not her   fault, not by a long shot. animals are not   always to be controlled, and they were wild,   unpredictable. though deidre felt no fear    in her own realm, she had never understood   the trust with them it took to do what rina   did. rina was good; probably the best, but   she was not invincible. )

( she needs to stop, to be stronger for rina. )

  Hey — I know you didn’t —

( she finds rina’s hand again, and is more   gentle this time. )

  You can’t control everything they do. They    still have minds of their own.

[lviitsa]

( she thinks that it's fear that catches up with her now. things had happened too quickly in the tent for her to be truly scared: she'd been fine, then she'd been on the ground, then she'd been nothing. now, she feels it, just as she had before. the first, during her early years of training, claws in her arm and shoulder; the second, during one of her early performances, before deidre, claws and teeth in her back. this time is different and she knows it; it's the worst she's been. )

     I'm supposed to be --

( better. better than anyone else. it's what her entire reputation is built on. she is one of the best, if not the very best. she doesn't make mistakes like this. she cannot afford them. )

( czarina squeezes deidre's hand as tightly as she can. she looks away and tries to hide her tears. )

     I'm supposed to be able to. They listen to me --       they're supposed to listen to me. 

[lviitsa]

♧ or ♞ drama queen sick deidre

     ♞: Caring for each other while ill.

it's cold, bitterly, bitterly cold as they snake up the eastcoast. by the time they reach new york, it's snowing, thefields around them blanketed by white. czarina prefers it,leans out of the train car and sucks in a great breath ofcrisp air, head tipped back until snowflakes catch in hereyelashes. 

they unload supplies and tents in the snow, with the greyday fading into a lavender-stained night. with the site litup with gold lamps, czarina sneaks off from valentin and the others with the intention of finding deidre. she hasn'tseen her all afternoon, and worry plucks at her ribs, tugsher mouth downward in concern. 

she finds her in her train car, as she'd hoped. what shedoesn't expect is to find her in bed, blankets pulled up around her shoulders. she looks thoroughly miserable,and czarina swallows her guilt at not looking for her sooner. 

     "You look terrible." 

it's a tease, but a poor one. deidre frowns at her, pink-nosed and pink-cheeked, as she sinks down lower in thebed. czarina sits at the edge and holds the back of her hand to her forehead, stomach twisting when she realizesshe is hot with fever. 

     "I feel terrible." 

deidre's voice is hoarse, cracking. she sounds as pitifulas she looks. czarina rises from the edge of the bed and wets a cloth with cool water, presses it to deidre's foreheaduntil the curls at her temples are damp. 

she makes tea. she pours cool water into a glass. she pullsan extra blanket from the wardrobe. she does things her rough, clumsy hands are not used to doing. when she's done,she slides into bed next to deidre, lifts her so that she can resthalf her weight against czarina's side. her fingers smooth throughher hair, keep it away from her face. 

they stay quiet. czarina prefers it, for once. she waits for thesound of deidre's breathing to even out and even then, shedoesn't leave.