“what flower is that?” this is something that they do whenever they’re out with cedar, simply because of his name. they know nothing of the plant shop he grew up in, or the way he helped it thrive. they’re simply annoying. “oh, no. wait. i don’t like that one anymore.” they pause, and turn to a purple one. “that one. what’s that?”
@theirfight asked: ⛸️ (ice skating bro are you kidding)
“ have you ever skated BEFORE? ” she smiles before stepping onto the rink. her eyes twinkle with admiration as she outstretches a hand to him. it was the perfect day to be outside for their date. it was warm yet could enough that the ice beneath them would not melt. the frost nips at her nose and cheeks turning them a bright pink. also, the flush might also be from being around him. angélique had not been on many dates before meeting wyatt. in fact, he’s her FIRST boyfriend.
@theirfight said: "Why don’t we discuss it over a cheeseburger or some such?" (from jude!!)
from: heathers meme !!!
“ or some such-- why so proper, bro! ” he all but cackles. that shit was funny! too good! shit, if he knew they were going to be pretending to be in the middle ages or some shit maybe he would have dressed the part! “ what-- you asking me on a date or something? ”
@theirfight sent: “destroy what destroys you. ” (from lee to regina)
she doesn’t make eye contact. not yet, at least. better to avert than let someone see the pain she harbors behind her shimmery eyelids. nobody needs to know just how much this is killing her. especially not lee.
“nothing can destroy me,” she responds sharply. as she shakes her head, perfect blonde curls sway over her shoulders. she rips her gaze off of her phone screen. there’s no use staring at the photo. seeing cady and aaron so happy together makes her sick. she can’t pinpoint why. it’s not like she cared for him much.
“as for her . . . i don’t think she’ll be so lucky.” regina finally meets his eyes, a flash of mischief in her own.
send ‘ five times kissed ’ for five times our muses have kissed – @theirfight
ONE.
There’s nothing to drown out their laughter as they run about the yard, through the grass and leaves, embracing the chill of the newly arrived autumn season. The sticks they hold clash together while they chase each other and pretend to be dueling enemies with swords in hand. They challenge each other with their words ( although stray from obscenities, otherwise they’d both be lectured ) perhaps pretending to be pirates or knaves.
Arno ducks around the other side of a tree and waits for his playmate to follow. There’s a smile on his face and dirt smudged on his clothes. It has been a good day. He hears her coming and slowly begins to walk backward around the circumference of the tree to stay out of her sight. But with another step, his heel catches a large stone on the ground, sending him toppling onto his back. He lands with a light thud, scrunching his features in pain. As he begins to sit up, rubbing at the back of his head, he sees Élise rushing towards him, a concerned tone in her voice as she calls, “ Arno! ”
She falls onto her knees on the ground next to him and quickly grabs his arm to help him sit up further. He assures her in a mumble he’s alright but his hand continues to paw lightly at the back of his head where a bump will no doubt form later this night. He sniffs and looks up from the ground at Élise who still sits next to him, seeming as though she has no intention of leaving until she’s certain he’s alright.
His warm brown gaze looks to her own blue eyes and he finds himself frozen. She’s always been his closest friend, his playmate; the one person at the estate who bothers to spend much time with him ( other than Monsieur de la Serre, of course ) . She was there that day a few years ago. And when he’d climbed into their carriage at the end of the day, she held his hand and helped him in and told him he’d like their home.
The next motion comes without thought. The boy isn’t quite sure why he’s done it, but there’s no taking it back, that’s for certain. In one of the moments he finds himself staring at her, he quickly leans forward and pecks her cheek with a light kiss. As he pulls back, there’s almost a look of terror in his eyes and he’s quickly scrambling to his feet and hurrying away in his embarrassment.
They are only ten years old.
TWO.
He stands in the hallway, a single eyebrow cocked as his eyes watch carefully for anyone who might pass by. Arno’s hands are clasped behind his back and he rolls back onto his heels for a second, then the balls of his feet, and back. As a servant passes by, he stops, rolling back to stand flat on the bottom of his feet and he pretends to adjust his cravat momentarily.
His shirtsleeves are rolled up messily, one rolled shorter than the other and he seems to have missed a button or two of his waistcoat when dressing this morning. But he has little time to worry about his appearance now. Arno peers down the hall once more -- he has to act now, no one’s coming. And so he spins around facing the door he stood in front of. He taps his knuckles against the wood in a series of rhythmically-timed knocks and waits.
It’s only a second before the door creaks open slightly, revealing only a glimpse of the red hair and fair features that lie beyond. As the eyes behind the door widen with excitement, the door opens wider and an arm darts out. She grips his bicep tightly, dragging him into the room and shutting the door behind him, being sure to lock it so that others might not find them.
“ You seem eager, ” he teases as Élise closes the door. There’s a smirk on his face but even that can’t hide the happiness in his eyes. It’s been months since he’s seen her face to face. They’ve exchanged letters back and forth during her time away ( too much time, if you asked him ) but he has missed her company.
She scrunches her nose lightly at his comment and informs him her father didn’t want them seeing each other. Not yet, at least. She was home to celebrate the holidays but it seems Monsieur de la Serre has come up with a rule that they may only see each other at the holiday’s celebrations -- under supervision. Arno’s brow furrows at the thought and he curses silently. How absurd...
But then his eyes light up again and he steps towards her, musing, “ Then we shouldn’t waste any time before we’re caught. ” He can see Élise smile in return and they’re soon taking one another’s hands, their fingers entwining easily. As Arno leans forward and their lips meet, the kiss is soft and even chaste. A kiss between childhood sweethearts. After their hands separate, he places one on her waist and the other on her shoulder, although he soon begins to twirl her hair between his fingers.
Arno pulls away, looking down at her and smiling lightly. “ Your hair is longer, ” he observes innocently. He can see her smile in return before her hand travels over his shoulder. She soon pulls at his hair, which has been gathered and tied back, bringing the ends of it to rest over his shoulder.
Élise response with a simple, “ So is yours, ” before he smiles again and presses one final kiss to her lips. It’s final now that they hear footsteps and Élise’s father calling her name. They pull away abruptly, both with panicked looks on their faces. And yet Élise giggles, pressing her hands to his chest telling him he needs to hide. He looks around the room, unsure of what to do in the moment, but she’s already pushing him, urging in a hushed tone, “ The closet! The closet, go! ”
So he manages to squeeze himself into the closet, hiding among dresses, petticoats, and trousers. Through the crack in the door he can see Monsieur de la Serre enter the room. He and Élise share a few words before she begins to follow him back out the door. Just before leaving the room though, he sees her look back towards the closet. He opens it just enough to peek his head out and smile at her, silently saying to her, “ I love you. ” He sees her smile back before exiting the room, leaving him to find a way out without getting caught.
They are only seventeen.
THREE.
“ You’re leaving again? “ His voice could be interpreted as perturbed, but the sadness is still there. He looks at her with a furrowed brow and she looks back saying, “ You know I don’t have a choice, Arno. ” And she was right. She didn’t have a choice. She went to finishing school for months on end at the want of her father. Yet Arno was stuck here, doing chores and assisting footmen with their daily tasks. Élise seemed to detest her schooling ( she always spoke horribly about the headmistress there ) but Arno can’t help but feel jealous that she had the chance to leave the estate every once in a while.
Arno sighs dramatically and lays his head back into the grass. The leaves from the tree they sit under shield his face from the sun and he closes his eyes for a moment. Soon, he feels Élise’s lips softly pepper kisses along his cheek and on the tip of his nose. He opens one eye to look at her, smirking. “ We could get caught, you know, ” he warns her, not that he’s asking her to stop.
She pauses and looks at him with a strong expression before retorting, “ Is that a challenge, Monsieur Dorian? ” And he knows that tone. Only mischief comes with that tone. They spent much of their childhood causing mischief, from the second they’d met each other.
He props himself up on his elbows and looks at her with an equally daring stare. “ It might be. And one I’d bet you can’t win. ” Within seconds, she’s leaning back down and pressing her lips to his in a sweet kiss. But it only lasts a few seconds, for the next she’s jerking back and jumping to her feet, looking down at him. She has a proud smirk on her lips and that familiar golden glint in her eye. Élise holds his sword which she’s stolen from the scabbard on his belt. Sneaky.
His jaw drops only slightly and he chuckles, “ Well, this is hardly a fair fight, mademoiselle. ” She then instructs him to ‘ pick a weapon, ’ gesturing to the various twigs and sticks that lie about the ground. He looks to them and nods: “ Very well. ” So he stands and takes a stick from the ground, saying he’s chosen it wisely and he soon enters a stance, ready for a duel. It begins asÉlise says, “ En garde. ”
They’ve both been taught well, yes, but perhapsÉlise just a bit better. For she knocks his own makeshift blade from his hand and pins him against a tree with the tip of his own sword just inches away from his chest. Arno raises his hands in defeat, smiling: “ Well fought. ” She grins and bows, dropping the sword and stepping towards him. This time, however, he beats her at her own game -- he takes her by the waist and takes no extra time in kissing her again, more eager now. But they soon lose their balance, falling into the grass side by side.
Even through their laughter, they look at each other and remain close. Arno admires the way her nose crinkles when she laughs and the wide smile she has on her face. He raises a hand to brush hair from her face before she kisses him again, while they both fight smiles through the gesture.
They are twenty years old.
FOUR.
They’ve both changed. Arno insists he hasn’t, but he knows that’s not true. Maybe he is the same boy that crept around the de la Serre estate and caused trouble with Élise; but he is not the same boy who was unknowing of the Assassins’ and Templars’ existence and the war that wages even between their own families. How can he say he hasn’t changed?
It felt as though it grew harder every day, looking at her and knowing the love they shared was discouraged by Assassins and Templars alike. Although raised in one household they came from two different worlds; worlds that were destined to battle one another until one falls to is knees. Still, he finds himself walking through the battlefield to follow her, to find her, to simply see her one last time.
The silence between them has lasted for minutes now. They walk in time with one another but neither says a word. The moon shines down above Paris brightly, lighting their path. Arno’s hood is bunched up at the base of his neck, his hair falling in his eyes and causing him to brush it away. He glances at her for a moment, seeing her stare ahead determinedly. Élise has a goal set in motion and nothing will deter her from that.
Soon, they come across the estate where she is staying here in Paris -- “ a close ally of the Templars, ” she says, promising him she’ll be safe. He looks at her in the moonlight and sighs. Something to say... He wants to say anything -- but he can’t.
“Élise, I -- ” He stops, simply looking at her, and seeing her look up at him. Arno remembers her eyes from just a few years ago. How bright and shining they were... Now they are haunted. She has lost her mother, her father, and all those she’d called friends within her Order. And now he would give anything to free her from these malevolent spirits that torment her.
In a moment of weakness, and without thought, he leans forward, pressing a very light kiss to the corner of her lips. He does not feel her return the gesture but she places a hand on his chest as if to stop him. He pulls back slowly, looking down at her, trying to hide the pain and confusion in his eyes. He watches her shake her head lightly and whisper, “ Arno... ” And with that, he understands. So he steps back and nods.
His teeth grit together for a moment as he looks away, ready to turn and leave her behind now. But he glances at her one last time, murmuring, “ I’ll meet you at Saint-Chapelle tomorrow. ” With one more breath, he turns and begins to walk away.
They are twenty-two.
FIVE.
Proper rest was a delicacy. Arno thinks he hasn’t had the privilege of such pleasant sleep in quite some time. Part of him might attribute that to the woman beside him. Her warmth soothes him; the way her hair curls and rests upon the pillow is beautiful to him. She’s at peace which is a state he hasn’t seen in years. Perhaps they’re both at peace right now, laying beside one another, not worried of what is to come five minutes from now or when the sun sets later this day. No, he is only concerned for now.
His eyes close slowly once more as he attempts to drift back into sleep. He can feel her hand trail from his arm and onto his chest, her fingers slowly moving back and forth. Élise moves closer and Arno shifts his arm so that he might wrap it around her and pull her flush against him. He does. Her head comes to rest on his chest and he truly feels bliss and contentment now. If only he might have this moment for the remainder of time.
He must have fallen back asleep. For how long, he can’t say, but he’s awoken again as Élise moves in the bed next to him. His eyes open before he raises a hand to rub them tiredly. He sees her beginning to sit up but as she notices him awake, she leans over him, balancing on her elbow and one hand coming to comb through his brown locks. When she speaks now, her voice is tired but he smiles at the sound, for her words are, “ Good morning, my love. ”
Arno’s hand rests his hand against the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek for a moment. His smile only grows as he looks at her in the sunlight that has begun to seep into the room. He returns her greeting with a whispered, “ Good morning, ” and he begins to properly sit up now, leaning against the back of his bed. He brushes his hair out of his face and looks at her.
Élise de la Serre is perfect in his eyes. Absolutely perfect. He cannot and will not ever tire from looking at her, hearing her voice, or feeling her touch. He hates to think of it but today is the day they face Germain. He dreads the thought of it, but his heart leaps when he thinks that he and Élise might finally be free when the tyrant is dead. They might build a life together, against all odds.
He takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes once more. Without looking at her, he voices the question, “ Tea or coffee? ” as he slides his legs over the edge of the bed, his eyes moving about the room to find his trousers. ButÉlise’s hand catches his arm and it causes him to look over his shoulder. He sees her shake her head with a delicate smile on her face.
“ Don’t go yet, ” she whispers to him. Her touch alone might have enticed him to stay, but her words only convince him further. Arno moves back onto the bed, getting comfortable asÉlise lays her head down upon his chest once more. His hand moves along her arm lightly for a moment. Then she moves again. She’s looming over him, her hands pressed against the bed as she raises her upper body just above him. He looks up at her while she looks down.
Not a single word is said when she moves to kiss him. His hands go to her waist, holding her closely. The kiss is passionate and almost desperate; desperate to kiss one another one last time, just in case. Arno can only pray this was not the last time, though he will not waste it. In the moment, he can almost swear he feels tears fall on his cheeks. But they’re not his own.Élise is crying. It could be happiness, it could be sorrow. He’ll never know.
Days and days had passed with the Dalek trapped inside, not even daring to venture out at night and terrorize the city’s inhabitants for it would only disrupt their plans. With an abnormal sense of agitation did Thay rove about, unable to remain still as it waited for a message from their lost brother. Caan must still exist somewhere! But what if he were cornered, captured, experimented on by humans, his case dismantled, his flesh cut and burned and dissected? What a dishonorable fate would that be!
It sent message after message in Dalek language, including concepts and experiences only a member of the Cult, not a mere drone, could understand, in the hopes that Caan would notice and respond promptly. Finally, finally, did it seem as though the messages were received and Thay left the room in search of Sec.
With a touch of pride, Thay announced, “Dal-ek Caan lives! We must find him!”
