#tsesarevna

[glitterofthepast]

A study of the dress worn by the then Tsesarevna Marie Feodorovna the wedding day of her sister in law, Grand Duchess Maria Alexandrovna. January, 23rd, 1874.

Credits: The Royal Collection

[intestato]

As soon as she steps in, she breathes out an "I've left him" more to herself than for him. A need to convince herself of what she had just done. Once his attention is on her, she repeats the phrase with more conviction than before, eager to see what his reaction would be like.

As soon as she steps into the room; it changes. the shift is apparent and prominent as every inch of the room became sickeningly heavy. It was both intoxicating and exhausting. But that came with her, with the very means she held herself to such standard; where you felt like every sense in the room had shifted and all the focus was on her. A woman whose strength was sharper than her stare and tongue; Blood finds his gaze shifting to not her prowl but the next words that slip from her tongue. His gaze lingers, the kind that tells you that the words have slipped beneath the mask and gently caress the hatred that twists in angular skin. Every harsh line of his jaw and features indicated the emotions that he held with such firm grips. "So what of it?" Comes his reply, they lack emotions to paint them as every man would easily reveal his thoughts with a simple flick of his tongue. He was a killer, his emotions were tightly wound and hidden in a part of him that would remain touchable, unreachable. The coolness was so easy to fall into, but they flickered as her presence cast on him like a shadow.

But it was too late, too long for something for him to feel the gravitational pull. It was like the remaining strings that connected them had frayed as every beckon and ask was forcibly removed.

Not that their relationship had always held a label.

Perhaps he'd asked for too much when he'd fallen from Wonderland and into her arms.

"Or are you trying to gain a rise out of me?" He asks, his words carefully procured as he closes the gap between the two. His palm finds hers, digits pressing the surface of her own, their hands meet at her side; violet hues darken in the same manner of possession. Though he doubts that she'd be ever willing to be tamed by another man? "Dangle the carrot before me in jest?" His tongue tsks in disapproval, fingers threading into hers and his arm extends behind him, pulling her arm and her not against him. The motion would be deemed as harsh but to them, this was another game of dance of predators. "Unless, you're planning the end of your days with me, darling."

Or perhaps this was all a part of a dream, the twist of tongue before feeling the twist of the knife in his chest again.

[intestato]

@tsesarevna​ f e l l into Wonderland -- 

There was a distortion, somewhere, in the lining of reality. The bringers of dreams, those silver eyes of hers. Her face suddenly softened, reverted to that of a younger self, between the time of child and "adult" in her birth-times. She's shorter, though not too short. Just tall enough to pour the warm liquid into his chosen container. "Need a chat?"

The male continued to stare, dark orbs lingering on her features with mixed curiousity but not enough to stir true intrigue at the moment. His chin jutted only momentarily, before the familiarity of their setting breathed life. 

Though he was not Hatta, he was in his realm once more. This only irked destruction in the depths of his chest. The crippling reminder of the war that still lingered. Lexie included. 

“Well if it is your unborn day -- ” The words that escaped from his lips was once that was coaxed out, an arm gesturing to the surface around them. His pinstriped arm. “Then I’d suggest a seat.” He added. The cup on his saucer dancing in mirth to the warm contents.

[intestato]

"Do you ever regret it?"

Was this the reminder that this was chaos? A chaos that swallowed their lives in the bottom depths of its unending existence? The male closed his eyes; drinking in her smell. Her presence. Her body, as small as it may be, surrounded him.

Suffocated him. 

Yet she stood infront of him and all he desired was to embrace her in his arms. Hold her as those would in a relationship; keep her in his arms. 

But this was not a fairytale. Neither deserved a happy ending.

That ridiculous wig was gone and so the strands of her wicked blonde hair framed her porcelain features. A simple red shirt that clung to in the wrong parts of her body; his fingers itched to fix the article. The action, careless, but he cared. Cared to repair everything together. 

Yet those long digits curled into fists of disappointment, hidden in folds of a cardigan that wrapped his own slender physique. 

“Regret it?” 

The words sounded thoughtful on his tongue, as though he was debating on the idea and rolling it upon his tongue before answering her carefully. “Do I, regret leaving? Perhaps.” He added, his fists releasing and slipping into the back pockets of his dark jeans. His body arched back, stretching as he extended his torso briefly. “Regret, coming back to see you? In the mirror? Those long nights where you whispered to me from the other world?” His head raised to look at the ceiling. 

“Do I, regret not stopping your marriage? Stopping you from falling in love with another? Perhaps.” He looked back at her now. Blood’s eyes lingering on her own irsies before he took one small step in her direction. Closing the space that was between them. The familiar golden pocket watch swung slightly before settling itself on his side.

“Do I regret….”

Her question led to so many answers, he was pondering aloud. Avoiding the answer. Bidding time. Avoiding her true intent to discover hidden meaning behind mindless ramble. But that was all he knew how to do. Evade the truth and avoid the past.

“Why?” 

He asked, his features were still expressionless. “Why do I need to regret it? Have I done --- No.” Pausing in mid thought; there he exhaled and his shoulders relaxed. Composure. 

“Are you asking me, if I regret that?” His brow raised to correspond with his own question. He remained calm, strained by self-resitrant in an attempt of composure. “Do I regret, loving you?” He pressed before he scoffed, the corner of his tiers twitching but led to know final expression. 

“No.” Another pause. “I do not regret, loving you.”

[intestato]

"So, what do you think about him?" Subtle defiance intertwines with gentleness as she speaks. She ambles about the room much like an undercover predator but she keeps her distance at all times, even though her glances show an opposite need on her part.

V iolet orbs that settled in darker hues as the males features crinkled with evident grievances that ran along every wrinkle and crease upon his face. Such a question was nothing more but a request of emotion from the stoic figure. His thumb pressed onto the curve of the handle of the tea cup that was in his grasp before settling it onto the associated disc. The coffee – was as untouched as it always was.

It was cold. How he loathed cold coffee. It was an awful thing, but a waste of the beverage. It became a place holder for his thoughts between conversations. To be human. He loathed this too. He wanted it all to go to way.

Perhaps this was why he was here. The uncanny adventure of finding himself nestled in a room with a woman he hated and adored. A conflict of emotions that inevitably kept him returning ever so more to her arms but hands upon his throat. 

Exhale. He’d become that person who used this as a place holder to avoid speaking now too. It was so simple to breathe and petty humans would associate an answer to such trivial actions. 

“Who?”

It was the first word that he responded with after he retracted to his surroundings. It was far too easy to behave as a human. It became instinctual now.  “Are you taking about the beasts in your room again? The fetus creatures you have held hostage?”

[tsentre]

"Don't hate me, Jihoon. Don't you dare hate me."

— ❝“Hatred, is way beneath me. Despise is closer to my heart.”  Words are followed by a bitter grin, the fleeting tap of fingertips against his own thigh and a dismissing shake of his head. It has been a while since they last met and as time has passed by, leaving the world with fading colors and darkening skies, the spread of ice within the marrow of his bones has quickened. Perhaps, love has found its way back into his life. But on the other hand, it will never be enough. Or so he supposes. Somber as such a truth is, he has indeed come to embrace it. “But how could I ever hate you, sestra?” It is a rhetorical question and he leaves no room for any answer. “ I’ll simply judge your choices. Seems to me that you easily abide the will of someone else instead of allowing your heart to guide you. I mean, is this really what you want? Or are you simply doing it for the sake of appeasing our brute of a father? ”

[kalirok]

Text to: Jinnie.

“Good morning. I miss you.”

( img )

[ text to: jing ]

( sent ) Morning babe

( sent ) I’d send you a photo but woke up early and eating. Can’t really send you a sneaky selfie without the guys asking too much

( sent ) I miss you too. When are you back in Korea? Seeing you through photos and photoshoots isn’t fun :’(     

[kalirok]

"So where are we going tonight, brains?" She wasn't in line of sight just yet because she naturally prefers to remain above the ground (hidden in the trees). Sharp canines seem to catch the light of a streetlamp as the childlike monster watches him with a wicked grin over her lips.

Last night was a practice run and he almost got caught. Tonight was the real show. He needed security footage, files, criminal records. Anything that would help their lawyer in the case they needed to win for them to be one step ahead of the game. It was a small stepping stone towards the bigger picture, but one that was necessary for the pieces to fall into place. He’d disabled the outside cameras from a distance, triumph bubbling in his stomach because it only meant he was getting stronger.

He’s nearing the doors of the police station, just when he hears the familiar coo coming from some place too close. Fuck. How she manages to find him each and every time is beyond him. He spins on his heels, eyes scouring the premises for even the silhouette of her body. It’s only the gleam of her smile that gives her away and he simply stares at her with arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched hard enough for his teeth to grit as he plastered on a smile.

“We aren’t going anywhere.” He couldn’t afford to mess tonight up, and however helpful she had been in the past, he brushed it off as sheer luck. A fluke. “You’re going to walk your ass back to where you came from, and I’m going to go about my business.” He’s already stepping away from the police station. The less she knew the better. How much had she already caught on? He’s not sure, but it’d be safest to keep her at a distance.