#pangyric

[resurrectedher]

“i think you need to tell ben that i’m the favorite.” she is, in fact, still hung up on this. her ego is a very fragile thing. dakota took a handful of fries to put on her plate. “or i don’t think this marriage is going to work out well for you.” 

@pangyric​ : starter call. 

[ichordreamt]

she isn’t sure how long she’d been asleep for,  but given the fact that the sun had settled long ago, and the moonlight shone through curtains that hung haphazardly, quinn had assumed for awhile.  quinn’s kept her eyes shut, trying to dispel the sound of loud, high pitched screaming in the shell of her ear, or the burning sensation that ignited every cell in her body.  her hands reached toward her throat as she could feel it start to close and her breaths become quicker.   it isn’t real, it isn’t real, it isn’t real. open your eyes. the voice inside her head that was her own, but wasn’t her own, tried to tell tell her - warn her.  

quinn snapped her eyes open and she doesn’t realize she’s trembling until she reached for the glass of water that sat on the nightstand. she’s hesitant to take a sip, especially when the moonlight hit against the water, giving her a glimpse of her own reflection. quinn forgot that he was there until she hears the sound of papers shuffling together. her own silence can be deafening sometimes. quinn’s jaw tensed as she placed the water back onto the nightstand, threw her hair up into a messy ponytail, and shuffled quietly to stand behind him. 

“did you find a location on her yet?”  her voice is quiet, raspy, and quinn’s fingernails dug into her palm to keep them from shaking.  quinn moved closer to peer over his shoulder, scrunching up her nose as she concentrated on the disarray of paperwork around them. “or - anything. at all.”  

@pangyric​ . 

[resurrectedher]

“you work too much. anyone ever tell you that, hm?” now that’s saying something, especially coming from her. with her behind him, her eyes narrow slightly, but not to judge. it was as if to say time’s up! it was her turn, now! dakota moved to sit on his desk, crossing her legs, and sat her elbows onto her thighs. her mouth twitched into a slight, teasing pout. “i’m neglected. you’re neglecting me.” 

@pangyric​ . 

[resurrectedher]

is it cruel to think about what it must have been like to die? to see her empty and sprawled and vulnerable? dakota isn’t quite sure and especially now that what she was looking for was only partially answered. is it cruel for her to want to remember that feeling? the moment before the light went out and darkness had clouded her vision or before the screaming? she had thought it would’ve felt similar to the tingling sensation that started in her scar. it turned into heat and then burning. what had felt like knives gutting her from the inside out followed suit, like something trying to claw its way out. she had thought she had heard herself scream, high pitched and almost animalistic, and him calling out her name, however faint in the shell of her ear.  

dakota doesn’t realize that this manifested until the sound of the pan she held in her hand fell to the floor with a loud thud and pieces of food went with it. her hands trembled, violently so, as they reached toward her throat. dakota’s back hit against the kitchen sink and she’s calling out his name, loud and desperate and caught in between gasps: “miguel? miguel-” 

@pangyric 

[resurrectedher]

“i’m not going to fight you.”  dakota scoffed, loud, as if it were something ridiculous to offer. what was it that he called her earlier? tense? she wasn’t sure if that was the term she’d use, but he wasn’t entirely wrong. within the past six months, dakota’s rage turned into an irrevocable terror, however she would justify it later.  dakota’s shoulders rolled back, considering it for a brief moment, and corrected her stance. she wondered what her father would say knowing she’d back down even if it was something as innocent as this. 

dakota silently retracted her statement as her hands balled into fist, and rose them up to her face. “come on, then. am i throwing the first punch or you?” 

@pangyric​

[resurrectedher]

“if you had said something, i’m sorry, but i was too busy paying attention to something else worth my attention.”               

@pangyric​ : starter call. 

[afterburied]

dakota’s eyes watches the hot steam from the locker room showers swirl around her and then vaporize above her. she can feel tense muscles begin to relax, but with a cruel twist a fate, they stiffen once more like they become on the defense. it was a natural reflex these days. all clenched jaws & sharp teeth. ready to bite at whoever came too close.  it was a reflex that she found herself too quickly back in at the sound of shuffling, some laughter here, then the relief of a long day of quidditch came to a sudden halt. the steam circles around her like the thick fog of early dawn before it disappears into the air once again.  

dakota shuffles quietly out of the communal showers and raises a single eyebrow at all of her stolen belongings other than a robe and her wand. it was a retaliation of slytherin’s latest win, she’s sure. she can practically smell the prank that belonged to weasley twins like a thunderstorm rolling in. with an annoyed huff, dakota slips on her robe and grabs her wand. she jumps at the sound of sparks above her, red and gold lettering spelling out the word traitor. a free hand grips at the itchy, polyester fabric of her robe and her grip on her wand tightens as more shuffling comes into the locker rooms.   

"you,” dakota snaps, meets him halfway, and points her wand at his throat. hues of blue light at the tip once before it fades. “of course you’re here. you want to tell me who did this before i hex you into the next century?”  

@pangyric​ . 

[afterburied]

@pangyric sent :  i don’t want to take lives to save them. - miguel. from this sentence meme. accepting. 

dakota often forgets how cruel he can be. part of her refuses the notion as a whole  — that he was left untouched by the malevolence of this world. that ben was the one who brought him into it rather than the both of them growing up into it and he simply turns a blind eye to it now. it’s naive, she understands, given that he can often be more cruel than she is. naive and often a bitter taste on her tongue knowing that something within her switches off when the bluntness of a blade is coated in dark and sticky. 

dakota is expressionless and lazily scans over him. “you’re too tense,” is all she offers in response. she steps forward to close whatever gap separates them and pressed the pads of her fingertips just slightly to the left of his breastbone. anymore pressure and she could feel that muscle in her palm. she can feel it throb rhythmically against her skin. she drops her fingers, swiftly moves to grab both of his arms, and then twists them behind his arm. not at full strength but still using an considerable amount of force, dakota shoves him against a nearby wall. removing one of her hands that gripped at his forearm, she quickly grabs one of her knives from the holster of her boot. 

dakota hovers the blade at the back of his neck, tempted to press the pointed end onto his skin, piercing it just slightly. like it was to prove some morbid point. “— and dead.”  she moves forward to press her front against his back and the front of her knee into the curve of his. “i like you ruthless like that, you know,” she says hautlightly & into the shell of his ear. dakota’s voice is low, a near whisper, like it was a secret only meant for them. “it’s — different. sexy. show me more.”