@lostrobingang are you gonna kill Ivakir l don’t kill Iv and get a starter [xyz]
“Ah, look at this, they burned the witch again!” she slapped her hand on the open book. “In every book. In EVERY DAMN book a main character - some peasant Van'ka, who hasn’t learned how to wipe his ass yet! - comes to witch, asks her to help him, she gives him some cool stuff, like, sword, big dick or something, and then in the end he kills her, because she is a witch!”
She tossed the book in the huge pile of books, which, according to Ivakir’s opinion, were TERRIBLY BAD and were not recommended for reading. Then, she gave a very suspicious look to Jackdaw. Damn, all lines finally met in one dot!
“You are going to do the same, huh?Are you? I am watching you.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t ask myself for advice if I was my last resort,” commented the man with an amused half-smile, pausing to sip from his drink. “The last time I approached someone flirtatiously, I was twenty. And even back in the day, my wooing abilities left a lot to be desired.”
⭐ (Jackdaw didn't mean to. He saw the curl pop out of her bun and couldn't help but reach out and touch it.)
SEND IN ⭐ TO TOUCH MY MUSE’S HAIR.
bonus if you add NARRATIVE, REASON, SCENARIOS, DETAILS, ETC to give the receiver something more to work off of. ( can be anything from a hair ruffle, to fixing hairs that are out of place, to stroking their hair to comfort them, and anything in between. )
( @lostrobingang )
“What the hell are you doing?”
The tone of her voice didn’t sound like Ivakir was mad, but her gaze clearly showed that Jackdaw should have though twice before committing such rush actions like touching her hair. Perhaps the reason why she didn’t yell at him right away was in the fact that she got used to him a little, but Iv was always on guard when her new shop assistant was next to her. She pressed a thumb with a long nail into his palm, very hard, since she felt that the nail went a little under the skin.
“I asked what the hell are you doing?”
She was getting furious with every second. The very thought of touching her should be something forbidden for him; he had no right to touch her until she herself gave such permission. Given their “harmonious” relationship, this permission could never come up, this ice wall will never melt. Ivakir didn’t hate Jackdaw. To hate someone, it was necessary to do something more, something worse. But she treated him as some kind of misunderstanding, which she couldn’t get rid of.
“Get back to work,” she harshly tossed his hand away. “And don’t waste my time.”
Has someone close to you ever said something that hurt your feelings? If so, what was it, and did they ever make up for it?
ASK MY MUSE EXTREMELY PERSONAL QUESTIONS!
The thief.
The air is so hot that she can hear it humming. These days there was a terrible heat, there was no wind in the air, not even the smallest cloud in the sky. Even the flies hid in the cold shadows of the attics and basements. Heat was not the only reason why Ivakir was sweating.
Here you are, a girl of ten years old, standing in a kitchen, a table with apples, a grandmother is sitting and peeling them. Only from the side it seems that nothing is happening. Grandmother seems to be making an apple pie. Apples in one direction, peel in the other. It’s funny to see how the knife seems so small, almost toy, in the hands of such a giantess.
Ivakir doesn’t find it so funny. Not now. In her eyes, the kitchen becomes an interrogation room, and grandmother becomes an investigator, an enemy. On the table are sweets, multi-colored candy wrappers. On the investigator’s desk, they turn into the main evidence.
“Well?”
Ivakir shudders, she feels that if her grandmother says another word, she will definitely pee in her pants. The silence is so sonorous that she hears even waking flies in the basement. The sound of flies as the last sound you hear before death. Was that the sound that was heard by those who came across her grandmother? She was scary. Not in terms of appearance, but in terms of the atmosphere that was around her. It was a kind of dark atmosphere that crawled into the very corners of your heart to rummage in your pantries and pull out your fears from there. Grandmother was a huge, the biggest human Ivakir has ever seen. Her hands, like columns, moved as if in a certain rhythm, thick fingers gently grabbed the apple, the knife carefully peeled off the skin, creating long garlands. Her eyes are focused on apples, her eyes do not look at Ivakir. For now.
Ivakir thinks maybe she is lucky, maybe she will survive this time. But here the grandmother lays an apple and a knife aside, and Iv mentally pronounces a word for which she would be scolded. No, everything was very serious. Grandma turns, the chair creaks under her heavy weight. Ivakir swallows saliva and looks away. She feels herself shaking.
“What’s this?”
A fat finger pokes at sweets and candy wrappers. Ivakir is silent. To say that she didn’t know what it was was stupid. To lie that Ryzhiy gave her the candies is also stupid: the grandmother would not be too lazy to go to the neighbors and ask if Ryzhiy really gave Iv the candies. Ivakir looks up slightly. Grandmother doesn’t look angry, but tired. And disappointed. Very disappointed. Ivakir was much more afraid of this than that grandmother might be mad at her.
“What is it, Iv? I thought I have been raising you correctly, and I, it turns out, raised a thief,” she says with a sigh.
Thief! That’s who she is! The word was stamps in her heart, but Ivakir stubbornly remaines silent. Stupid sweets. They were not worth it to experience what she was experiencing now. Come on, faster, did you freeze? She heard Ryzhiy pushing her when she reached out for sweets, grabbed as much as she could and put it in her pockets. They were tasty, the tastiest thing she had ever eaten. They decided to leave them for later. And then Ivakir accidentally forgot them in her dress pocket.
She was not only a thief, but also terribly dumb. Maybe the school was right and she really was so stupid?
“Nothing to say? Got water in your mouth? Or sweets?”
Grandma jokes, Ivakir’s eyes treacherously pinch, she lowers her head even lower and doesn’t respond. All she wants is this torture to stop. Why her grandmother can’t just yell at her or put in a corner, as all normal parents did.
“You’ll go to the store tomorrow,” the grandmother turns to the apples, takes a knife and continues to clean them as if nothing had happened, “confess what you did and work out the sweets. Until the last penny. I’ll come tomorrow to check you. Do you understand?“
Ivakir nods.
“I don’t hear ya,” one look is enough for Ivakir to nod more energetically and mumble “yes, grandmother”. Grandma nods. Ivakir quickly rushes out of the kitchen, out of the house, runs out into the street and rushes along the village road. Another parent would have rushed after her, but her grandmother was wise and understood that Iv needs to be alone now. But if she was so wise, why did she call Ivakir that word?
————————————–
“What are you sitting here?”
Ryzhiy was big and fat, like many children at his age, but he knew how to approach quietly. Ivakir turned to him, wiped her face and angrily showed her tongue. He answered her the same.
“Did she yell at you?” Ryzhiy sits nearby.
“You know, she almost never screams. She just sits, looks at you with this creepy look and doesn’t talk. Once I almost pissed in my pants,” Ivakir threw a stone into the water. “What about yours?”
“Mom didn’t find them. Even if she did, it wouldn’t matter to her. It would be worse if Makar found them. He would beat me.”
Ivakir stretches out on the grass and looks up at the sky.
“She told me to go to the store tomorrow, to work. Until I pay the last cent,” she said, imitating her grandmother’s tone.
“Ohhh, will you be a guard? It’s a good work for you. You are ugly, you’ll scare all the customers, and then the store will close.”
Her fist flew into Ryzhiy’s shoulder, from which he did not dodge. If Ivakir wanted to hit, then she hit exactly on target. She was much smaller than him, but her bony hands beat rather painfully.
“I am hungry.”
“Breaking news, Ryzhiy, I am hungry, too.”
They were always hungry. Maybe that’s why they decided to steal.
“Let’s go again then?” Ryzhiy threw a pebble and it jumped on the water. “You just hide it next time well, otherwise your grandmother will kick you out of the house. I won’t let you live with us.”
“I will hide them in your belly!” Ivakir screams unexpectedly. “No one will find them there!”
She suddenly pounces on Ryzhiy, he does not have time to raise his hands and protect himself when Ivakir is on him and jokingly hits him on the shoulders and chest. She really needs to let off steam. And when she gets off him and their fights in the grass end, they are already creeping into the neighboring garden. After all, grandmother did not say anything about stealing from other people’s gardens.
@lostrobingang tries to make a conversation I from here [👁👁👁]
The Ivakir of a few minutes ago and the Ivakir that was before him seemed like completely different people. Before she had been purposely rude, but when she was working she was very serious, and for a time it seemed like she was too focussed to berate him. So, he started chatting. It wasn’t about anything important, just the weather, then the nearby village, and another store he had seen a year ago that she might have been interested in.
But then her hand slipped, or maybe he had knocked something over, but the liquid was everywhere. He jumped off the table and went to her, eager to help in whatever way he could. But she resisted, which, in retrospect, he should have expected. She shoved him away hard enough to make him stumble and he was left standing a few feet away, watching with a growing concern.
Jackdaw watched carefully as she cleaned her skin of whatever it was that had hurt her. Her hands… they were a worker’s hands. They weren’t very pretty, but like the rest of her they were rugged, and kind of unique in their own way.
“You didn’t mind my talking a minute ago,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. At least, she hadn’t seemed to mind. Maybe she had almost smiled. Maybe he was just kidding himself… but as usual her tongue was as sharp as a blade. He’d been cut enough times since arriving that her words hardly grazed him.
“Wow, careful there, you almost gave me a compliment,” he said, feigning surprise as he walked back to the table. He glanced back at her. He hesitated, bit his lip, then turned away. “I’m… glad you’re okay.”
Ivakir didn't like to admit that she was not right or had done a mistake. The witch pressed her lips in anger, saying nothing, which was surprising if you knew her even a little. She was angry not only at this idiot, but at herself. Jackdaw was right. With what hatred she admitted it. Relaxing slightly, she responded to his attempts to talk with her, even smiled, which was rare to see for someone she didn't like. Even the old witches who trained her could not get out of her a habit to talk during the work. Though Ivakir remembered well the old but suprisingly heavy hand that lay on her back when she only opened her mouth while mixing reagents or treating wounds. Even now, she could hear a voice from the past: "If you hadn't looked around and cracked like a magpie, then nothing bad would have happened."
"Don't talk and get back to the table," Ivakir ordered Jackdaw briefly, putting on other gloves.
She honestly did not understand what was going on in Jackdaw’s head. Not literally. First he comes to her, cries, scandals, and then tries to talk to her. Soft-bodied idiot. No drop of pride, no self-esteem. If she was in his place, she wouldn't be so soft with someone who ruined her body.
Unless it was a plan to win her trust. Hah. Yes, such a show is worth a look.
“I take my words back. You're not as smart as I thought,” the witch sat down in a chair next to the table and brought the recorder to her mouth, turning it on. She made it clear that she did not intend to talk to him again, unless it was not about work.
Aladdin - If your muse had 3 wishes, what would they wish for?
A SERIES OF HEADCANON PROMPTS INSPIRED BY DISNEY MOVIES
If Ivakir answered this, then she would call money. But the whole point is that Ivakir doesn't understand the concept of desires at all. She believes that she should achieve everything by herself. However, all this also depends on the situation. In a period of great despair, she may well take advantage of these wishes.
He rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being ridiculous," he snorted, "You can be honest and not total jerk, you know. If you wanted. If you're even able to do that."
Now, she looked pretty surprised. She blinked, trying to realise what this idiot was talking about.
“But I am honest,” she said with an irritation in her voice. “You know, my spell probably broke your brains. Or ears. I need to fix it next time. I don’t know what you have imagined in your feather head, but I don’t want to have anything with this imagination.”
