❝ my favourite thing about you is your smell - you smell like earth , herbs , gardens ; a little more human than the rest of us. ❞ / @cyranoism
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@ofcosima
❝ my favourite thing about you is your smell - you smell like earth , herbs , gardens ; a little more human than the rest of us. ❞ / @cyranoism
adalmas
alma falls back a step, blinking as her sister’s words fly at her, “cosima, i don’t get why you’re so angry at me.” she had known much of what their mother had put her sister through was not fair, but the younger urgell had never intended to be anything special- her mother hadn’t raised her to be. and she was confused now as to why cosima was lashing out at her like this. it was the queen’s fault before anyone’s. alma had no say in what her fate was to be, “you can’t be mad at me when i did nothing wrong! i didn’t choose to be betrothed to mari,” though, if given the choice, she may have picked the japanese crown princess, she couldn’t deny her attraction to her, but, still, if she had chosen her it would’t have been for power reasons or to be a ruler. that was not the role alma was ever supposed to fall into, and she figure that was why their mother had pawned her off to japan, to give her to someone who was equipped to rule, to someone who would ensure that alma was far away from andorra. she shakes her head, “stop it!” she’s never spoken to cosima like this, but, then again, she’s never seen her sister like this. and it’s terrifying and she can feel her own anger and hurt rising as the other blonde continues. alma flinches as she holds her shoulders, “out of what, cosima? i have no say! what do you think i’m trying to do? you said i don’t have the capacity to understand. and, yeah, maybe i don’t! i’ve never wanted to be ruler of anything! you of all people should know that!” she hisses, stepping away from her sister’s grasp and tipping her chin up. she uses her defiance as a weapon, trying not to let her sister’s emotions evoke too many from her. though, she can feel tears welling up in her eyes as cosima bows to her and she knows her fake act of defiance is probably no use, she’s feeling sadness and something akin to guilt. obviously this whole situation has set something off in her sister and she doesn’t know how to handle it. she swallows, shaking her head again, “don’t. you know that’s not what i want.” she pauses, staring straight at the other, “all i have ever wanted was to see you succeed. to see all your work finally pay off. to see you finally get out from under mother’s thumb.” a single tear slips down her cheek as she gestures between them, “i don’t want this.” the words are only a whisper, “i don’t want you to hate me and i don’t want to rule anything. i just want the freedom to make my own choices. and your happiness. that’s all i’ve ever wanted.” she wets her lips with her tongue, “you have known me my whole life. you cannot really look at me now and think i would ever want to undermine all you’ve ever worked for? what kind of sister would that make me? what kind of person?”
“i no longer recognise you,” rasps cosima, as she fights the urge to do what she’s been doing her whole life - to pick up the broken pieces, glue them together & go on with her merry life, as if nothing terrible just happened. how come she never questioned herself? a better question - how come no one questioned her? how could they witness such a form of self-destruction, and live with the guilt? “where were you when i threw my life away? for you? for mother? you weren’t complaining .. then again, why would you? the sweet,comfortable life. without consequences. without responsibilities. you have all you need,” she scoffs, unable to suppress the negativity overflowing from her. “pardon me, you had. you had your own little robot, tweaked by the great queen herself, so that her little princess wouldn’t endure half of the shit i went through.” the blue hues would gleam with warmth upon a mention of her dear sister, heart growing fonder, to the point cosima thought it was impossible to love someone that much. the same unexplainable love that forced her to pick all of her battles is now the architect of her downfall. ironic, eh? dull oceanic eyes fixate on everything but her, knowing no matter what happens between them, cos cannot bare to see her cry. the clenched fists dig through her skin with such pain that they become the only contact with reality, knowing she’s destroying everything else, with every word that falls off her lips. it’s the truth in alma’s words that shakes the crown princess’ core, stripping her away from the possible reconciliation chance she has with their mother. oh, she wishes she was as strong as alma thinks she is - she really does. truth to be told, in that very second, there are two princesses, standing together, but only one of them ever showed the courage to stand up to the queen, however minor the problem was. “i can’t make mother cry, but you, that i can,” is the only logical explanation cosima can foster at the heat of the moment, desperate to defend her case. nothing she says would be enough - at least for cosima, if she were in alma’s position. it’s the ugly truth she, but mostly both, have to hear, as hurtful as it is. “i was going to kill him, alma.” her voice is flat, but in a whisper, hoping she wouldn’t be able to hear. “i would lay in bed beside him, for days. i would make him give everything and anything i, andorra needed. then i would lay in bed, beside him but only one of us would wake up, because that’s the princess mother raised.” her low breaths aren’t enough the fill the silence between; cosima’s gaze falls upon her hands ( lady macbeth foreshadowing at finest ), surprised how clean & soft they look, beside the fresh marks on her palms. “i can never be happy. she took it away from me, and you let her.”
Will it be in the kitchen with the lead pipe or the dining room with the candle stick? So many choices for you. ~ Red Queen
every bing coming from her phone kills a small part of her soul, ever since she received the first text. it’s funny how she’s scared out of her mind, but also indifferent to the whole ordeal. old cosima would kill to be favoured by the enigmatic force .. but this person? m’eh. still, her hands tremble as she types the following reply, hoping her faux confidence is enough to shake the target board off her back. "excuse me -- we’re playing a game here, aren’t we? don’t be a party pooper. if i’m winning, and we all know i will, it’ll be because i play fair & square. y’know, RED queen, miss scarlett never loses.”
Who has had the biggest impact on your life?
“queen, my mother, elizabeth i, of course. what a brilliant ruler she was.”
@infantacarlota : The real plot twist of the rp is cy and espen getting left at the altar bc cosima and carlota eloped
@espenjarle : cyrano and espen can just date eachother it's fine . cyrano can finally be the house-husband he was born to be
@espenjarle : also insert that picture of that guy that says poetic cinema
@cyranoism : that reminds me of that parks and rec thing. this is my wife and this is my wife's wife.
@infantacarlota @adalmas
@infantacarlota : Carlota n cosima a love story? yeah
@espenjarle : for some reason the simple fact that their icons are facing away from eachother make me so gd emotional like.......look at her....LOOK AT EHR
@infantacarlota
what a plot twist you were.
cosima & carlota
( @ofcosima ) || cyrano had never learned how to tell people what he wanted. always so afraid, so completely horrified that any confession of himself would push others away. as though they’d see the man underneath the skin and hate him just as much as cyrano did. his first interaction with cosima had gone well, but it was just that a first interaction. he knew her name, the color of her hair and eyes, and little else. he vowed to be her friend and he intended to keep good on that offer.
but he couldn’t just tell her that. tell her that he wanted to see her again, to know her better. no, instead, he had show up at her door again with roses and another sweater. knocking rapidly before his anxiety could pull him away. when the door swung open he perked up instantly, “i’m so glad you’re here. last time i came by I got the wrong door and there was this older lady–not that there anything wrong with older ladies—but she was in her bathrobe and–” he coughed, putting a halt to his embarrassed rambling. one day, he’d get the under control. “I brought you roses,” he held out the small vase, “yellow roses. they mean friendship. and it matches your hair….kind of.” another cough. “oh and I have this!” cyrano tried his best to hold up the other sweater he’d made with his free hand. “I know I made you one before but this one is better and it has a cat on it!” he grinned happily, trying his best not to think about what would happen if she didn’t like cats….or his handmade sweaters. but she couldn’t hate the orange cat he’d lovingly made, could she? well, cyrano was no artist, and though he couldn’t see it, the ‘cat’ was far more like a horrific discolored blob than a creature at all.
after a moment, he finally stopped speaking and simply looked at the woman. “I wanted to see you again.”
cyrano. the masked figure of her recurring nightmares ( and one .. now that’s the type of dream she doesn’t feel comfortable talking about and hopefully won’t ever happen again ). at this point in their ‘relationship’ cosima is sure cyrano has some sort of super power to make everyone around him ‘awkward’ .. or maybe his power only works on her ( some type of twilight shit is definitely going on ). nevertheless, she wasn’t expecting him on her doorstep, not after she pulled a long disappearing act. plus, from now on, she’s not a crown princess. at least not in her own eyes.
he does the same thing - that bullshit superpower to make her feel something she’s not used to, standing there with presents in his hands. her mouth falls open & stays that way for a long time, though her body instinctively reacts to his movements, grabbing the evidences of his thoughtfulness of his hands. “you shouldn’t have,” she means to say, but what’s the point anyway? she no longer feels the urge to kill him. it’s not necessary. does she need to go through with the marriage anyway? maybe she does - for the sake of his image. the question is - does she have the power to sacrifice more, for a man she knows for, what, weeks? ( maybe i do, i’m used to it. ) cosima nods, resembling a robot - vase on the cherry wood accent table, eyes glued to the yellowness ( “he’s sweet - right? you like him - no, i do not.” is the internal monologue going on ) still nodding at the risk of looking like a complete lunatic. “i like cats.” it’s the motherly feels in her heart that makes her separate her eyes from the flowers, to look for her precious boy, miro. “i have a cat.” she’s oddly silent, unsure how to handle him. heart misses a few beat with his declaration type of comment, a definitely non-ironic smile lifting her face. “y-you did?”
she takes slow steps to the heart of her room, ridiculous sweater pressed to her chest, as if it was the greatest gift she’s ever received ( and maybe it was? too bad he would never know about it ). gesturing the sofa, she throws the clothing on, again, an unmatched disaster-looking outfit. “thank you, cyrano. would you like to sit? i have some news for you.”
adalmas
“doubtful. i’m not you, cosima. but i’ll try my best.” alma murmurs, a lopsided grin on her face as she looks at her older sister. and the thing is, alma’s ‘best’ isn’t good enough for the queen, but she never made the younger blonde try and be better- because she wasn’t cosima. there wasn’t any pressure to make alma great, for her to be perfect. and, because of that, she could have the life she wanted. for the most part, anyway. alma isn’t sure what she said wrong, but second she tells cosima where mari’s from, where she’ll be going, she sees her sister’s face change. it’s not overly noticeable, but her sister has never made her emotions completely noticeable to her. alma stops, watching her sister cautiously, curiously. she blinks. she’s not sure that she’s ever seen cosima cry- and if she has then it was so long ago that she can’t find a moment like this anywhere in her memory. she’s sure her confusion must show on her face, but at cosima’s words there’s mostly hurt. ‘lovely’? what? alma doesn’t understand and it pains her. she wants cosima to tell her what’s wrong, she wants her to tell her she wish she’d stay in andorra- maybe offer her a place there if that’s possible (alma doesn’t know)- she just wishes that her sister would talk to her, help her get it. she feels like she’s back at square one, behind an impossible wall. a wall cosima’s built to protect her. she furrows her brow and shakes her head, “what?” her voice is quiet and sad- and maybe a little angry, alma never gets angry, “that’s all?” she chews at her bottom lip for a moment, “you’re always too busy. and i don’t know what i did wrong this time… and- and i need you, cos.” it takes a lot out of her to admit it, but it’s true. she does. and she especially needs her now. alma’s a step behind her. her head is swimming and she almost feels like crying now and she’s watching her sister trying to leave her, “i need you to help me understand. to help me do the right things. i can’t do it without you… i don’t want to do it without you.”
“i don’t think you have the capacity to understand, alma.” her words aren’t calculated like they often are - the source is something unfamiliar; feral, like the start of a wild forest fire. at this point, she doesn’t care who she hurts and as awful as it sounds, it’s kind of a riveting experience. consequences? she doesn’t know them. all the rules she had to obey? see you never. responsibilities that has been weighing her down ever since she can remember? gone with the wind. “you know what, i should be THANKFUL to you, my dearest sister.” words leave her mouth in speed of light, sarcasm dripping. the crown princess can’t even bear the idea of looking at her sister, only to be reminded of her betrayal - or to see their goddamn mother’s face, staring back at her ( ironic how she couldn’t see it before, the uncanny resemblance between the younger daughter and the queen, splitting images ), which makes her sick to her stomach. “thank you for freeing me!” she’s laughing, alright, then why does it feel like someone’s gutting her? foggy vision lands on her pale & soft hands, trembling under the pressure of having this alien like feeling controlling her. she can’t be sure what’s more terrifying; sacrificing her whole life over nothing, or missing how it felt? she sees the crown rings on her fingers, shining brighter than the sun, ridiculing her. “alma, alma, alma,” it’s actually funny how lost she feels, nothing makes sense and the chaos is nearly driving her crazy. she holds the princess by her shoulders, twitching at her sight. “tell mom i’m out.” mom? no word felt more unfamiliar than this one. she’d always been the queen for cos, but suppose it is the time to drop the act. “clearly you’re more equipped than i am. so go ahead! save the precious, stinky andorra! hurray for the princess alma!” cos feels like a glued up porcelain vase, overflowing & slipping through the cracks. “how dumb i am,” she taunts, slim body quickly bending, no, bowing to her sister. “i should bow to the future queen of japan, right? right, alma?”
“You are a deceptively hard woman to track down…” Luca said, pushing his way out in front of the blonde, forcing her to stop in her tracks. “Woah, woah, woah–Not so fast.” The prince grinned wide, devious glint in his eye. He’d get to know his future sister-in-law one way or another, and he preferred his way. Slowly, Luca pulled a small horn out of his pocket and honked it. “So you’re Cosima, huh? I’ve heard a thing or two about you…” It hadn’t occurred to Luca to explain who he was, thinking everyone would just know. ( @ofcosima )
‘he is fine looking,’ is the first thing that pops into cosima’s mind when she’s interrupted by the ‘mysterious’ gentleman. of course she knows who he is. what kind of a crown princess she would be if not? amateur hour, sad. if there is one thing that makes cosima feel empowered, it’s to have the upper hand - sometimes it’s by knowing one’s weaknesses, sometimes .. it’s doing your research ahead of time. in her future-brother-in-law’s case, all the clues pointed to one single direction: he’s everything cyrano is not. “to my utter sorrow,” she says, eyes going up & down on the male, “i haven’t heard anything about you .. yet. you must be .. hugo, right? cyrano’s little brother?”
I am not empty. I am full to the brim with murder and revenge. I am overflowing and I do not think you wish for me to overflow onto you.
Heartless by Marissa Meyer
adalmas:
“my betrothed? yeah, yes, she is nice. we met before. a long time ago, when we were kids. i think i like her better now than i did then.” alma lets out a gentle laugh, touched by cosima thinking to ask about how nice mari was. she smiles then, bumping her older sister back lightly. it wasn’t often that cosima openly showed her affection, so she throughly enjoyed it whenever it did happen. alma sighs, “but it’s a lot, cosima. i don’t like talking to her. everything i do is wrong in her eyes and i hate it.” she pauses, chewing at her bottom lip. she knew that as much as their mother criticized her, the pressure she consistently put on the elder urgell was much higher. alma almost felt wrong complaining about it when her sister had to endure so much more being the crown princess. so, instead, she pivots her focus to the smile cosima flashes at her, “i’d rather take a hundred criticisms from you than try and last through a ten minute phone conversation with the queen.” she says it teasingly, but it was pretty much true, “i’ll answer next time she calls. promise..” she replies quietly. having their mother be angry at either of them was the last thing she wanted and if it would satisfy cosima then she would answer her calls. alma is thankful for the switch in conversation, she would much rather have her focus on mari than the queen, “mari is the crown princess of japan so… i would assume we would live there? though, i cannot say i know that much about royal custom. but that’s how it usually works, yes?” her stomach sinks at the thought of moving so far away from andorra- from her sister. of course, she travelled often, but moving to japan and visiting were very different concepts. it wasn’t something she hadn’t put much thought to before.
“i’m sure you can handle her,” cosima says, knowing damn well that queen is, in fact, impossible to handle. still, it’s never stopped her from trying, so why shouldn’t alma do the same? the corners of her perfectly painted lips curl into a shy smile, afraid of showing too much affection & fucking up their delicate power balance. to keep her in order, cosima needs to be stern & stoic one. it’s a tale as old as time; alma is everything cosima isn’t. she’s the embodiment of fun, youth, freedom .. yet, surprisingly, it’s never bothered the crown princess. the jealousy she’s supposed to feel ( let’s be honest, she’s the envious type ) is always pushed to the aside by the love she harbours for the little one. i can never have it all, she thinks, but alma can. since the revelation of her unchangeable future, it’s been the only thing that kept cosima sane - knowing her sacrifice isn’t for vain, even though no one asked her to do so in the beginning. but that’s the thing, cosima endures all of it, because she has to as the crown princess .. right? queen raised her for it. to be powerful - to be the one to restore andorra’s glory. when queen decided egypt wasn’t a mighty companion, cosima acted against all of her wishes & left hamza behind. when queen couldn’t make spain work, cosima did what she was supposed to do - leave. hell, she didn’t even doubt queen’s tactics when she ordered cos to marry the prince of san marino ( mind you, he isn’t even the crown prince ). until now. the weight of withered hopes burdens her, almost to the point she chokes on her saliva. as if someone pressed the replay button, she goes back to‘ the crown princess of japan ’ a millionth time, allowing her sister’s innocents words to work as a weapon. if there’s a god, for sure he’s mocking her. for the first time in forever, her vision gets clouded, mind fighting a losing battle against her tears. it takes all the willpower in her to suppress the need to scream until her face goes violet, throat scarred for life. in the most dramatic way ( shouldn’t expect less that the crown princess ), a single tear rolls down her face, deeply contrasting with the forced grin she has. “LOVELY! i wish you a happy life in japan. - i have things to do. see you.”
im an inactive dumb bitch but !! i want new threads . hmu for a closed starter !