#shad0wbringer

[repeintre]

@shad0wbringer asked: ❝ i'm gonna find a way back, with or without you. ❞ arcane (s2) sentence starters || Accepting

He is not one to play with his prey, for all he has long learned the art of a proper entrance, with the echo of his trusted cane as his only herald. And for many, many years, he has not approached expeditions but for the sake of their death.

And now Verso has decided to push his rebellion to this point. He should, he knows, skip any possible conversations. He also knows it's not truly worth it, without the element of surprise.

"And why would you think I am here to help you?" He asks, however.

The nevrons move closer and closer, yes, but he knows they cannot kill him. Alas, they can injure him, and complicate his plans.

"You should not have wandered so far from your expedition."

[repeintre]

@shad0wbringer asked: ❝ you're a monster. why? why do all this? ❞ arcane (s2) sentence starters || Accepting

He is a monster, he's long made his peace with it: a necessary monster is no less of one. And oh, how necessary he is, in the painful -still, forever- face of Verso's betrayal.

And, in truth, he doesn't really expect any of them to understand. He has no need to explain, when he knows what it will lead to. What it has led to, so many times.

He should kill her, and be done with it. Alas, he knows Alicia has followed him, and is watching, and this is a chance to speak to Verso he won't marr with bloodshed. And so, he regards her, and let's nothing show but the power he holds back, in the faint shades of chroma around his cane. But he does not attack her.

"You cannot be suffered to succeed." He tells her. Simply, succinctly. "You know not what you seek, what it would unleash."

[perduxamour]

✉️

headcanon questions 𓍼 always accepting

What kind of letter would they write but never send? Well, here we are. This is one that I've thought about a lot, but out of fear of being cliche, have stalled on answering. It'd be the hardest for her to write, but I also think it's one that she wrote very soon after being painted anew. To Verso. Another letter of apology. But also one of blame. In the process of writing it, or perhaps even just speaking it aloud, it would be an attempt to believe that all the emotions she has toward him after the events of the search and rescue are valid. That they can all exist at once and none means less than the others. In fact, I'm quite certain this is not a letter written down. She wouldn't want it to exist without context. She's no writer, she'd be adamant that she wouldn't be able to convey those twisted emotions in the written word. So, a journal then. Recorded on a night plagued by insomnia. Addressing him directly, as she cannot bring herself to do it in reality. A broken mess of thoughts that she'd be stunned anyone could make sense of. Beginning with genuine loathing. There's hatred for him buried deep, driven through her by his sword and left in an invisible wound. It has scarred her. She was never one for hatred before the fracture, but she learnt it well alongside reasons and ways to fight. She'd tell him she hates him. For not trusting her with the truth. For not being honest about his fears. And for thinking that the only way to resolve the problem was to kill her. I think, in truth, she hates his actions, rather than all of him. But god, it's hard for her to separate the two. Just like she can't be devoid of the guilt she feels for all of it. Towards him. She'd fall apart as she admits to it. She'd never intended for the interrogation to escalate as it did. She'd admit that she's sickened by the fact that one of the blades ran through his body was hers, guided by her own hand. That on the nights that she doesn't dream of his sword deep in her chest, she instead does the same to him. Meeting his eyes every time.

This letter would be everything she feels she can never tell him. For his own good. If she does, she fears she'll want to hurt him again, or worse, that she'll break down in front of him and make the life he does not want even harder. Because yes, there's still sympathy there.. And I think for Julie, withdrawing from the world, from the truths she needs to face, is the only way she can get through the days and finally find a reason to keep on living.

[perduxamour]

🎀

headcanon questions 𓍼 always accepting

—What is their main love language?

Absolutely physical touch. Words have always felt like an insufficient form of communication to Julie. They're never enough. Never true enough, or strong enough. She can rely on her own words well enough when needed, of course. She's not afraid to speak when she needs to, and will do so pretty articulately. Her sketching, for her designs and work as well as her own pleasure, is a far better way of really conveying her feelings. Music even further still.

But touch... touch is different. It says more in less than a second than a thousand words could manage. In intimacy yes, but also in companionship. In letting someone feel your presence. With the people she's close to, she will place a hand on their arm when she sees them wavering. She'll loop her arm through theirs to let them know they should continue talking as they walk together. She'll play with their hair; braiding it if it's long, brushing it, or running her fingers through it, stroking their head as they lean into her. She's always been perceptive, and in this, it's no different. She'll pick up on whether that touch is welcomed or not quite quickly.

Even the faintest of touches means more to Julie than she can express. Fixing up your clothes? So much care goes into the most mundane gestures. Resting her head on your shoulder? Trust and patience, and admiration. Or her fingers grazing yours? A sure sign of affection and perhaps desire in certain circumstances. Basically, the gentler she is, the more love there is. Likewise, if physical touch is reciprocated, she's far more likely to form a strong bond and to trust. Because it's like seeing under the surface. Something through which it's harder to lie.

[adamanteine]

🌺 send this to ten muns you think are wonderful 🌺

yani :( thank youuuu this means so much to me omg

[lcmina-a]

"i would think you the biggest expert of us all." gustave remembered pierre - his kindness, his stubbornness. that sense of humour that always seemed to put a smile on sciel's face regardless of the day's stresses. his death had been a great loss both personally and to the people of lumiere. the waters that surrounded the land were dangerous. no one would have blamed him if he'd stayed on land that day. "i've never seen a single teacher with so many bracelets. the kids love you."

@shad0wbringer || ❛ Love is never simple. Not that I’m any expert. ❜ (for gustave!)

[inkflowdmoved]

@shad0wbringer liked for a starter! -> strangers - ethel cain

"i TRIED to be good. -- am i no good?"

[perduxamour]

𓇢𓆸 —A starter for @shad0wbringer

She's not certain how she ended up here. The need to escape? But there's no telling what exactly she's escaping. All Julie knows is that if she stayed even a minute longer inside those four walls, she might very well have gone insane. Not that she doesn't already feel it out here anyway.

It's why she sought Sciel. Hell, she barely knows the other woman, and can hardly trust her with thoughts as complicated as this. Yet inexplicably, here she is. As if seeking a north star.

Julie lowers the notebook to the table between them. It had been clutched in her hands uselessly, its pages untouched save for the one broken line of graphite on the first page. She looks down at the front cover, closed and concealing her failure, and frowns. "Is it worth it?" she says, voice low and laced with something that sounds suspiciously like revulsion.

Sciel shouldn't be hearing this. There's no need to say it but—

"To be with everyone you lost, but only at the grace of someone else's whims?" Julie meets Sciel's gaze, imploring her to challenge her. Tell her yes, it's worth it, it's worth everything. Because there's very little left for her in this world except for shadows and strange faces. Her mother, father, Celine... nothing but relics in her memory. And she doesn't know if she has the fire left in her to go without them.