#habiteat

[pyromuse]

nuzzle (just surprise me with this one)

    after hours harbor a different kind of feeling than the night usually does.    night means it’s time to finish whatever projects are being created  ,  go to sleep  ,  and rest up for whatever comes tomorrow.    sometimes the night is a party with a significant other or with the children  ,  a date  ,  a movie.    after hours means a drink and perhaps an mistake to confront when you wake up.    for henry it could be anything related to his work.    ada and henry just closed up a night of chit chatting with some serious people.

    a networking event was put together at a rather pompous club.    the environment wasn’t as rich as the cheese platter that he stood next to for most of the night  ,  but it was enough to becoming defeating.    he did talk to a couple of people just to peak their interest in what he does  ,  but otherwise stuck to ada’s side and once in a while met with perry.    the party ended and the two love birds decided to go to a diner.    ada’s suggestion.    

    their presence is boldly acknowledged from the bell ringing on the door  ,  but a hostess was quick enough to seat them.    there were only a couple of patrons in the diner as well  ,  conversation low and minimum.    there was no music which seemed a little off for henry.    about a booth over was the jukebox all that was available was christmas music.    eyes darted around to look for the date  ;  they were in the middle of november.    henry shrugged as he switched to the solemn cover of  have  yourself  a  merry  little  christmas  by judy garland.    he thought ada might like it.

    upon turning around to head back to his table  ,  he finds ada standing right behind him.    it’s unnatural to see someone expect the sudden appearance of another right behind them.    he wasn’t the bit startled.    henry wraps his arms around her neck and settles his face beside the picturesque nest that’s her blonde hair.    she is the only thing that can devour his anxiety.    they begin to sway in the middle of the diner to the nostalgic song.    ❛      thank  you  for  coming  with  me.      ❜    he hushes into her ear.

[delirous]

lacrimosa

what does your muse smell like?

    depends on where you meet her or where you catch her in the very moment.    connie is an adapter with her surroundings.    becoming accompanied with the aesthetics around her, she may blend in very easily; like she’s always been in the places you’ve only been once.    if you find her inside the house with dirty hands after tending to her garden, she may smell like fresh dirt and the pollen that’s carried itself from the core of plants to the threads of her clothes.    if you catch her in the morning, she may smell like fresh coffee and the sweetness of sticky syrup alongside freshly baked pancakes.    or at night, saying your last goodbyes, she may smell of artificial peaches and freshly washed cotton despite her still being in her day clothes.   

    it’s wherever she is, she will smell just like that.    she will smell like home away from home or your most recent memory where childhood didn’t feel so far off.

[religend]

“i'll be mad at you if you lie to me.”

   ❛      oh  ,  bite  me !      ❜   he pokes at their meeting long ago.    fingers twitch only at the knuckles.    they’ve grown in perfectly how they were before.    he almost wants to chuckle almost like that was a joke.    one told only in between them.    luzi’s interested in ada  ,  interested in a friendship which he can really feel in between them.

  is that what she’ll do  ?    bite him for not telling the truth  ?    he can’t say for sure because she’s very unpredictable.    maybe that’s why he likes talking to her because he never knows what he’ll get out of her.    it’s a fun game  ,  right  ?      ❛      she’s  my  daughter.    they  don’t  have  to  born  of  blood  ,  but  have  the  part  of  you.    i  thought  you  could  tell  !      ❜

[pyromuse]

“i've been looking all over for you.”

    all day he’s been locked up in this little rented apartment.    the negotiation with the tenant was  nerve  -  wracking  ,  but they managed to come to some sort of middle ground.    i’ll  only  be  here  for  a  while.    what  for  ?    uuuhhh.    his head is so unruly towards him that he forgot his one and  easy  excuse.    there for writing a book while being involved in an investigation that didn’t really need to be started.

    it’s stuffy in here because the air conditioner isn’t working.    henry’s cracked open the balcony doors and the windows in his small room and splayed out dramatically upon the couch.    today’s his off day.    he’s assigned it to himself.    studying what you assume can be an immortal grows exhausting.

    eventually  ,  the sounds of cars and distant amusement park screaming is drowned out as he’s about to dose off.    when there is a monotone voice subjected to him it seems like visually his whole body leapt from its casing.    hand manages to grip onto the head of couch before he can touch the ground.    he may be constantly running on wired nerves  ,  but that leads to heightened senses    ;    at least he likes to think that.

    with drowsiness still in his eyes he comes to a slouched sitting position as he looks behind him to ada.      ❛      oh  yeah  ?      ❜    that’s the best you can do  ?    henry swallows nervous as he hums.      ❛      i’ve  been  here.    uh  ,  my  apartment.    it  doesn’t  look  its  best  right  now.    um  ,  did  you  need  something  ?      ❜    wipe that stupid smile off your face.

[delirous]

pie jesu (for current connie especially)

imagine someone asks your muse “what have you become?” write how they respond to that question.

    there isn’t much you’ll get in respond.    she doesn’t talk much anymore.    everything she has ever had to say was already said.    did anyone listen?    she doesn’t know and she possibly doesn’t want to know.    chances are that everyone heard her speak, scream, cry, but it went through one ear and out the other.    no worry, when she’s dead then they will all of a sudden remember.    they’ll use it in their eulogies for dedicated for her.    they’ll lay a flower on her casket and draw a crocodile tear.

    but ask her now when she is still alive and breathing and she may still cry.    after a while of silence where she thinks about that question, she will show an emotion that is finally beside her stoicism.    the tears won’t stop overflowing from her eyes and they will leave big stain her sweater that she uses the sleeves to cover her face.    the whimpers and whines will be ghostly, too loud to be forgotten until the day after tomorrow.    there will still be no answer given to the question because she already knows.    everyone should already know what she has become.

    once she was a woman strong enough to overcome the abandonment of a lover.    six long years worth of rebuilding until she is able to take care of her son and soon marry to a man with his own child, but she tossed it all behind her when the walls grew louder than the record spinning in the background.    she signed it off to whoever found it first and now she is here sitting in the things that want to bite at her ankles.    what she’s become is a coward.    given into the things that will ultimately end her.    only a shell encasing what used to be that struggles its way out, but never able to break through.

    connie will sob the whole night through until the moon comes.    even then she will still cry and the neighbors will become concerned.    none of them check on her.

[brutlist]

     "     𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 , 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭     ---     ,     "     it tapers off with the extension of it’s consonant ; heugh is gently picking up their hand to press their thumb on the crossed string as he works to finish tying it off ,     “     there . m’bad at tying bows .     “ 

@habiteat​ // sc

[pyromuse]

“i’d kiss you if it wouldn’t kill me.”

    they’re already close to each other.    the room is dim   ;   the only light coming through is whatever the street lamps have to offer.    almost  dark.    they don’t need to see each other because their hands are already painting the picture of them in those heads.    what he sees of her is not idealized.    henry’s looked at her for too much that he can’t envision any other kind of her.    

    some will describe a bed  ,  roses  ,  candles lit in the shape of a heart.    he sees her standing before him in a dimly lit living room of an apartment barely hanging on.    she’s standing before him running her hands along any type of skin she can find exposed from under cloth.    they are there together with their foreheads together and the tips of their noses touching.    their weight goes from one to the other.    intimacy makes them weigh the similarities.

    all they talk about is dying.    when is the day henry will see the end of the road  ?    he already knows ada won’t have that to worry about.    nothing will worry her before or even in the afterlife  ,  if that wasn’t such a tall tale.    but maybe this is what she considers a death.    they always say death means the end of something and the beginning of something new.    what is growing within her  ?

    ❛      wouldn’t  you  like  to  die  just  for  a  moment  ?      ❜    the words come out as a heavy breath against her skin.    the skin grows enticed.    ❛      kiss  me.    just  for  a  minute.      ❜    their lips are taunting the temptation like a string of meat before the rabid animal.    weight is growing heavier and heavier on his bones  ,  melting into her.    another breath is exerted along with lips moving  ,  but what he says is barely comprehensible.

[pyromuse]

"... are you going to say it back?" (:

    henry is sat at his desk in the corner of his room and little bit further behind him is the doorway out to the balcony.    the curtains are closed, they have been for a while.    the sunlight isn’t necessarily his forte.    henry is deep within the part of the story he’s writing right now.    he hasn’t seen his mysterious friend in a while and there’s almost something within him that misses him.

    because he’s so fixated on his story  ,  he sometimes tunes out the outside noise.    never ada though.    he heard what she said and he smiles to himself.    that’s something he used to say all the time to her    …    still does.    ❛      yeah.      ❜    he replies.   he gave her an answer so she can’t complain.    she used to give him vague answers all the time so he thought he would give it a try.    giving it a few seconds of silence he chuckles to himself.    eventually he does say  ,  ❛      i  love  you  too.      ❜