@eniqme (arthur) said: [ bloody ] for your muse coming to my muse with blood stains. / accepting.
despite the vastness of the desert that lies outside her window, it is ironic how in the confines of her chambers she feels freest. her hair was let down, untied from its intricate braids and knots. fingers fumble with the clasps of the heavy jewelry on her neck, wrists and ankles; ornaments she once adored feel like shackles of a prisoner. once she had stepped out of the guise of a princess and into something meant for a care-free woman, elia let out a long exhale and fell into deep sleep.
there was sudden clamor outside and she woke with a start. the direction from which the sound had come and its volume indicated that it was only by the end of the corridor along which lied her own chamber. carefully reaching underneath her pillow, she pulled out a dagger that was always kept there. in the quietness of night, she could hear the sound of footsteps: heavy and dragging, with a few thuds against the walls here and there. the sharp end of the blade was pointed to the door, as she stood by the bed with one hand on the windowsill, should she need to escape. the footsteps got louder and clumsier, and the sounds got mixed with that of her own heart beating heavily. when the door burst open, a scream died on her tongue before it could leave her lips because the most unexpected sight presented itself before her.
his vest was in tatters and the white shirt that clung to him was stained in the most unholy shade of red; hair unkempt and that immaculate face of his covered in all patterns of blue and purple.
❝ oh, gods. ❞ was all that left her in a whisper. she rushed to him in long, quick strides and slid underneath his arm to support him, holding him around the waist and a palm rested carefully between his chest and abdomen to stand him upright. his weight almost drowned her but she was determined. elia sat him on the edge of her bed and inspected every inch of his skin with worrisome eyes, fingertips turning him with care to locate each cut and bruise. there were too many to count. she knelt by his feet to remove his boots, keeping an eye on the slightly ajar door. if someone were to see or overhear them, gossip would be endless. but there were other matters occupying her then. ❝ how did this happen ? ❞
