#iwillmakethem

[andryuska]

@iwillmakethem // princess mary & prince andrei

    “ masha. ” though his name for her endearing, when prince andrei approached his sister in the drawing room, his expression was gloomy. the past days had been passed in his study, leaving only for meal times and to order the house servants about. he had not gone to see his family, he had not even bothered to check on his son. he wished for one to speak to him, and to speak to no one. he wished for their lives to momentarily cease as to relieve him of the deep grief that had settled in his heart. the very house, with its windows shuttered and candles flickering in the late january draft, was naught but a prison, and his study a cell from which he could arrange his departure.

    not from life itself, of course. for all his troubles, the desire to live, to fill his lungs with air and to feel his heartbeat in his chest, had not yet fled him. but from moscow, from this place that could only remind him of the loss he had suffered and of the forgiveness he could not grant. once again, longed for the war. before, it had been in search of his glory, of distinguishable action and rank through which he might make his mark on history. how naive and stupid he had been then. but like war, for love now he held no romance. simply, war now presented him from the consequences of a love lost.

    what it might do to princess mary he had not considered. his decision to request a station abroad had been made without thought toward family. though it had been selfish of him, prince andrei could not bear to remain. only now, as he emerged, as he stood and faced his sister with shoulders that had finally begun to slouch and vaguely sad eyes, did he think of what it meant to leave her, to leave little nikolai, to leave his aging father. he had forbidden himself to think of whether he would see them again.

    abruptly, with no attempt to soften his intentions, he told her, “ i have written the general and have asked to be stationed abroad. in moldavia, perhaps. i shall depart within the next week. ”

[heavyliesthecrownsrp]

INTRODUCING: Her royal highness, Luisa, the 31 year old princess of Sicily. Though they be wise and brave, they are also impatient and temperamental. They bear a resemblance to Eva Green. [18, jane, GMT, she/her]

accepted ! welcome to court. announcing luisa, the ( princess ) of sicily. eva green is now taken. please have your account in within the next twenty-four hours or your role will be reopened.

[personnages]

ROSALINE | starter for @iwillmakethem, for Juliet

“Cousin,” Rosaline said, shaking her head even as she laughed, “slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying if you babble like this so.” She took her Juliet’s hands, trying to hold her cousin still. “Now. What is this event you’re so excited about?”

[andryuska]

“I stayed up another hour just to cry.” - mary

meme tag // @iwillmakethem

andrei is disappointed, but not entirely surprised. school is draining in a way that has hard to describe —- to say it is exhausting and stressful is the ignore the specific effects it has. late nights of awful wakefulness, eyes stinging from lack of sleep, body made heavy by the simple lack of drive left within it. these are the memories which sit as the context to his sister’s words, and surely enough, andrei finds himself nodding in agreement, however critical it is.

and it’s not something in which he wants to find common ground with his sister —- not an experience he wants to her feel. it’s inevitable, though, and difficult to combat, and he knows that what he wants here does not matter because reality has a propensity for failing to align with his whims. they have always been similar in those most fundamental and melancholic ways ; always been bound by a shared experience of rough childhood and the general unhappiness that is bound to come of it.

“ you shouldn’t do these things to yourself, masha. ” as though andrei can claim any real superiority in this respect —- though he never stays up to cry, there are countless occasions where he’s avoided going to bed because his thoughts are racing too quickly, his stress level too high, and the prospect of lying there, blind and cold, seems worse than dealing with a not trying to rest at all. but he doesn’t want her to know this, doesn’t want to share it. it’s easier to simply say he stays up because he is busy. convenient to tell a version of the truth that reveals none of the emotional torment underlying it.

[orcesario-blog]

BACK, AGAIN, in the interest of the duke orsino who will --- it would appear to an outsider’s eye --- never tire of the fair lady’s rejections. a confident stride brings cesario from the gates to approach the woman with a deep bow. “my lady, will words of love fall on more ACCEPTING ears today? i know my master waits in hope that it will be the case.”

@iwillmakethem ( SC.  - for olivia)

[andryuska]

“can i sleep over?” - pierre

i can’t find the meme // @iwillmakethem

andrei can understand the compulsion to avoid heading home. since natasha had broken up with him, home has been a  a lonely dorm awaits him when pierre vacates it ; his room is full of memories made sour by separation, his possessions made vile by the past they carry. pierre has come over for perfectly casual reasons, and andrei is not willing to express how he’s lightened his mood, but as soon as he goes, he knows that will end. that he will be left alone with the ghosts of happiness, which haunts relentlessly whenever distraction can’t be found. home has become a bad place ; and in this he finds that rare pulse of relation.

but those are not the reasons he’ll used to justify his allowing pierre to stay, of course. it’s late ; between isolated pockets of quiet and intense conversation separated by silent study, hours have slipped by. it’s the middle of the night, and it’s winter, and he doesn’t want his friend to come to harm somehow, even if it seems unlikely. thrown over emotion is the thin veil of practicality, obscuring the need beneath with the simple desire to see to his friend’s well being. his confirmation is tired, but not drawn out ; he sits up slightly in his chair and nods, rubbing strained eyes so they might adjust to his new focus. “ sure, if you don’t mind sleeping on the couch. ”

[andryuska]

❝ We both know in the end you’re not going to choose me. And that’s okay. I want you to know, I need you to know, not choosing me is okay. ❞ - natasha (hey i haven't forgotten about the mary thread either)

scandal starters ( selectively accepting ) // @iwillmakethem

    “ natalie —- ” prince andrei spoke with cautious and quiet tone, expressing on his solemn face the confusion that overtook his mind. his tenderness, restrained by a cold demeanor that in being habitual was not easily shaken, struggled to show through his immediate concern. it was in his mind a constant worry, that she might find sudden fault with him, or that he might himself be too imperfect for her, yet a proclamation of this nature was unexpected. “ i’m unsure of why you should ever believe i would not choose you. ”

and though rough hands that from war were scarred and uncertain wished to reach for her, to play at gentleness, he could not bring himself to do as much, and instead stood in pitiful indignity. searching his mind for what fault of his might have caused her to say it, to even think it. surely it was not true ---- surely he would love her brightness, her youth, until the day that death claimed him. was this infinite adoration even possible? prince andrei wanted so much to believe so, and yet cynicism with cold hands crept up and threatened to seize him, to wrap fingers around his throat and choke out his attempted reforms.

the doubt had entered his mind, and in doing so, nestled deeply enough that despite himself, he could not even will upon his expression so much as a smile. instead, over his face settled a perpetual hardness, an armor that from heartbreak protected him. supposedly.