#gloryspent

[loveisaviolence3]

@gloryspent​  /  whatever url you find yourself at.

rebekah has tried with all of her might to resist exactly this scene – she and logan curled up by the fire with a child that is not theirs without even a hint of discontent or reservation, but she never stood a chance. the pictures she’s filled the house with were never intended to comfort either herself or hope as she’d pretended they were; the truth is that rebekah hoped they would remind her that hope was not hers, help her withstand the fantasy that’s enveloping her like quicksand.            ( so far they’ve been of little help. )

of course, rebekah is her own worst enemy. 

the knowledge that they may have to flee at a moment’s notice has done little dissuade her from transforming the foreclosure they’re renting into the house of her dreams, complete with a white fence. it’s progressed to the point that there’s hardly any need for daydreams; paradise is not a far off thing – it’s her home here with logan and the baby in her arms with eyes so blue and skin so fair she can’t help but pretend she belongs to them. 

              her guilt is almost of no consequence. almost. it does distract her now and then, sap a little of her bliss – tempt further agonizing.      “it feels wrong, to enjoy this so much. to be so happy knowing how much pain hayley must be in – and my brother. i can’t imagine.”     

     but sometimes she does. or at least tries to in a vain attempt at preparation. it never lasts long. rebekah shakes her head, expression still filled with unadulterated affection despite the dark turn of her thoughts as she peers down at hope. it doesn’t change when she turns to look at him – if anything, the look of adoration intensifies, only settling into something somewhat neutral when she speaks.         “i don’t mean to monopolize her.”       oh, she does, but she’s not without apology, not when she’s so frequently accused him of this specific crime.    

                                 “does it ever go away? this paralyzing fear that she’ll break?”     

kara may not be his daughter, but sometimes rebekah thinks she might as well be – and sometimes it does feel as if logan has done all of this before. 

[stcrmdoors]

@gloryspent

THE GIANTESS OF THE GODS, the stories say; big, violent, and bloodthirsty. though angrboda never really felt the inclination to do anything other than build and create and wonder. an impressionable child eager to impress her father, jumped at the chance to callous her palms in the name of wood work and here she was       the same calloused ambitious hands sweeping over the planes of her boat. seven longs months she’d spent, spine sore and skin raw all for the sake of one very special boat. and this would surely be it. the one to finally float and take her to the west with her father and ragnar and all of ragnar’s sons. it was FATE. sometimes, she might even dare to whisper DESTINY. the stench of freshly sanded wood tickles her nostrils and she pulls in a breath. lids fluttering closed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. she murmurs breathlessly.                        “ angrboda’s boat...”                                  impatient hands wander its surface. she giggles.                                                                                           “ angr-boat. ”