#hidethelittlethings

[therealshocker-blog]

((One more)) "Come on, just hit me!"

Margot would be lying if she said she wasn't tempted to do so. She held her chin high and felt her fingers twitch, her hand warming with what could be the hit against his cheek. But she was above him, she was stronger than that. "I don't want to hit you, Mason," she said, faking a sort of sweet tone that sounded even disgusting to her.

[therealshocker-blog]

"Hey, Margot! Does it hurt if I poke it?"

"Yes, so please stop," she said, firmly, pushing his hands away from her stomach. The scar was still tender, just barely healed, and she was still very angry at him. This wasn't portrayed in her face at all, and she rather pressed one hand to her stomach, and the other to the bruised side of her face to avoid him poking there, too.

[therealshocker-blog]

Closed; A Different Perspective

Margot was gearing up for her daily ride, as was usual, and was doing so in a slow manner, savoring the feeling of the leather and the heaviness of the saddle. Everything contributed to the overall feeling of calmness, the way the horse breathed, the way its giant nostrils expanded and then lessened in size. Or the warmth of its belly against her hand. With this in mind, she was at peace, glad to have this moment to herself.

Things were much different after their father had died. Mason had seemed distant, which was much different than he was a child. She tried her best not to become worried with him, not to intrude on his studies to ask how he was doing, or get herself involved in his affairs, instead choosing to live in a blissful ignorance of his depression. Margot, herself, was saddened by her father's sudden death, but felt relief at the fact that there would no longer be the mistreatment and misogyny she had received as a child. When she heard the doors open from the other side of the stable, she was torn from these thoughts to look around. 

[theunluckyverger-blog]

::{Soltada}::

Notations: Please click "A tango..." to see the dance. And enjoy!

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At 8 and 11 respectively, Margot and Mason were signed up for a dance class. This was per Margot's request, as she was loathe to do anything without her brother. So, their mother took great pains to find a dance class that both would enjoy. Upon their first day, both were performing stretches in carbon copy of other, more experienced dancers. And they learned basic form and graces, along with certain styles. 

As the kids grew into their teens, the dance classes were specified. And even as the siblings grew apart, they found a synergy in dance. Inside the ballroom of Muskrat Farm, they'd vent words unspoken in heated practice sessions. And as adults, when Margot's loathing was well and truly distilled, the only time she could abuse her brother was on the dance floor. Whether she was digging the point of her heel into his toe or he dipped her dangerously quick, the two found the fire in any dance they chose. The Verger's could find the lethality in a waltz.

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  Margot's eyes bore into her brother's, the dark liner upon her upper lid intensifying the particular hue of blue. He,in turn, shifted his vulpine mouth into a smile. Margot's mermaid-like dress hugged her every curve. Mason, also clothed in black, owned up to his good looks. He'd even gone to the trouble to do his hair.

There was a crowd around them, and the floor was tickled by the sudden hush. An announcer introduced them in soothing tones as they took strides towards the center of the floor.  Mason moved to put a hand on her hip, his fingers straying down farther than they should. Margot took his hand away and placed it properly, a steely look burning into his skin. The music began.

A tango.....

Mason spun her around, the small of her back pressed to his abdomen. Their opposite hands interlocked above their head, and then slowly in front of Margot. A spin, and then another, and he dipped her down.

"Ya ready, sis?" he whispered, the words coated in the relish of holding her in the balance. She bit at him and he picked her up again. They took the prescribed and practiced steps around the floor, their bodies moving helter skelter and complimentary. They spun and turned and gave devilish stares at the audience, but Mason was growing bored. Stopping Margot mid-turn,  he used his forearm to fling her back into a dip.

"That wasn't in the choreography," she whispered severely to him as she rose and spun out and away. They moved separately in sync, his laughter bubbling behind sealed lips.

"I know, but isn't it more fun when I throw in an improvisation or two?" Offering his hand, they joined again and her leg went over his thigh. They melted into the signature pose of such a dance and she raked her nails down his chest slowly, and with malice. Only she could hear him hissing through his teeth. You're gonna pay for that, Margot, thought he. 

He turned them 90 degrees and she slipped down his leg with a wicked smile. She too could improvise and he took the opportunity to break away  and dance on his own. But he wasn't gone long, and soon the pair were spinning in tandem, and her hand made to strike his face. He gripped her wrist suddenly, growling as he lifted her into a spin.

"You're getting angry, Mason," she sighed coquettishly, stepping apart. A sneer building behind his usual veneer, he made to grab her shoulder, then the other when she thwarted him. Three kicking steps later, pressed chest to chest, he dipped her by the back of her neck.

" And you're getting cheeky, Margot dear." She back away with a smile, then ran into him, holding on to his torso with all of her limbs. As he spun her, she offered her neck openly just to prove him right. S

tanding apart, the pair held their gaze and felt the room take a unified breath. They dead dropped toward each other, a hand from each coming up to catch their partner by the neck. Both firmly squeezed but momentarily, before he grabbed her wrist once more and made her submit into a final corte.

"I win," he said, pulling her up to embrace. Margot brushed her lips against his and felt them trembling. She hadn't kissed him voluntarily since they'd been young.

The crowd went wild as she whispered, " No no... I win."