#mcrtiferas

[cv-nine]

closed starter for @cherricdwines.

HE’S BLUE, miles and miles of blue. from the gentle velvet of his clothing, to the stitched lines of his black boots, all blue—crisp like the surface of the ocean. he stood in the center of the milkwood’s solarium with his eyes closed, his chest quietly rising and falling. the man was tall, far taller than mars, and had the darkest brown curls he had ever laid eyes on, a strong nose, a full pink mouth with a sharp jaw to encompass it all. a living statue swathed in cobalt.

from here, mars milkwood could see the family crest stitched on the man’s breast pocket, but unfortunately could not place it. he did not know who this man was, or why he was in a place guests were not permitted in the palace, but he found the sight of him like a balm to the disquiet of his heart. mars did not want to think of what awaited him in the banquet hall just beyond the solarium’s doors.

instead, mars cleared his throat and watched as the man startled out of his quiet repose. “my apologies, I did not mean to frighten you,” mars remained rooted to his spot near the azaleas, his smile something small—rueful. “i only meant to alert you of my presence.”

[cv-nine]

closed starter for @cherricdwines from here.

“NO REST FOR THE WICKED, i see.” bode is seated at the foot of lucien’s bed, his smile lethal and looking every bit of anything—anything but amused. his friend, ever the heathen, smiles at bode from his side of the bed, clearly pleased with the scene he’s set. his companion on the other hand quickly went red in the face, sputtering to life with “captain—i’m sorry—did not—late!”

“stop talking,” he might as well have dropped a bucket of water over the man’s head, his tone cold and slicing, “get out.” the man, eric, climbs out of lucien’s bed naked—bode makes an appraising noise in the back of his throat at the sight of him but says nothing more. rushed and pink faced he grabs his clothes from the floor and leaves the cabin without bothering to pull them on. smart man.

bode turns his attention back to the boy still in bed and quirks a brow at him. not especially upset really, but perhaps curious—wondering. “you know, lu, when i invited you onto my ship, i thought it would be a great opportunity for you to see the world with an old friend, not a chance for you to fuck my men.”

[cv-nine]

closed starter for @cherricdwines.

“WHY DID YOU LET ME LIVE?” he was met with silence. elias had been watching the snow descend from the heavens above, a heavy white blanket to shroud him and the cottage that roofed them. “that night—,” his mouth felt numb, like his tongue turned to metal, too heavy to lift—to speak.

“the night you turned, you could have ripped my throat out and I would have let you,” he follows the mess of footprints stamped in scarlet, the trail of blood; smeared and sticky and wet, to the boy seated on the floor across him. his mouth remained stained by that evening’s feeding, his skin painfully pale against the red of elias’ blood. even now, taking in the sight of him slowed his heart, tightened it in a vise grip.

around them the room lay in complete disarray; vases, plates, potted plants lay shattered on the floor, the covers of their his bed crumpled and ripped from their place on the mattress, and all of it, all of it covered in their blood. “why not save us both from this grief?”