#ninondelxrroque

[dauphxn-blog]

ninondelxrroque

ofbeautyandwit

His head in the clouds, the young King was unaware of his pathway. Of course, he knew that his loyal Musketeers were not far behind, yet this felt like a moment to himself. A moment to explore on an otherwise boring trip.

However, when he bumped into a woman, the boy was thrown back into reality.

"Apologies, madame!"

[themillslife]

↹

ninondelxrroque | Send me “↹” for my Muse’s reaction to yourspushing them out of harm’s way… and taking the blow instead.

There was a moment of silence during which Aramis moved his eyes from side to side. His sharpened senses were telling him there was something bad around here. All he was seeing was women, alluredin science and focused on the their studies.

It was then his brown eyes noticed a familiar face with full lips. Thoselip could  belong to one and only Milady De Winter or whatever nameshe was using these days. He was pass the point of caring to track it.

If it was not for his quick reaction, to wrap his hand around the blonde’swaist and pulled her towards the nearest building’s column, the woman could have been affected by the bullet that was send her way. 

The sting he felt in his bicep ,made him groan, still protecting the womanwith her body.

[quiivive-blog]

égaré | ninondelxrroque

ninondelxrroque || from [x]

The defeated man laughs; but it lacks true malice. 

He opens his mouth to speak, his throat closing 

up as words die unceremoniously before even

leaving his mouth. 

                                                      He’s cold, tired, alone.

Rochefort clears his throat uncomfortably, 

meeting the stranger’s gaze for a second 

time. The quirk of his lips; such a far-fetched

motion of social etiquette for a man in his

predicament. Yet it is agonizing, a pain

concealed behind his eyes, radiating through

with every breath and barely perceptible blink.

                                                      “No.”

His broken answer seems so simple, 

so insignificant after everything he has

faced in this wretched world. Rochefort

wonders if she can sense the distrust

that paces behind his eyes, the slow

realization that he had become the prey.

So he bows his head, tone quiet as he

asks;

                                                      “—May I...come in?”