#zeitkeist

[j0esten]

@zeitkeist: sender pins receiver’s wrists during a sparring match, grinning, "yield."

nathaniel reads her intentions a mile away, reads it off her body language better than he could ever parse any of his text books.  he bites down a smile when she hooks a foot behind his ankle and yanks his balance clean off. he lets her. doesn't put up a fight as she pushes him on the ground. doesn't move a muscle when she pins his wrists down. the exy court floor is cold under him, not a trace of the blood and sweat that they all pour daily onto it. the walls of castle evermore are mercifully silent and void of their teammates' abrasive voices, riko nowhere to be seen. for nathaniel it counts as a blessing, a rare gift they shouldn't squander away.

'' you think you're funny. ''

he grins in kind, a slow thing that doesn't show his teeth to her.  there's no danger in it, no hint of his father's razor blade stare, the one he always had on his face when he smelled blood in the air. bianca knows he isn't a threat to her;  the others would have thought better of it. if any of them had touched him so brazenly off the court, there would be blood on their faces by now. some places else too, if only nathaniel had gotten his knives back from wherever moriyama had stashed them away. but it's bianca, and surrendering to her comes easy to him — maybe a little too easy.

'' but you just smell actually. get up so we can shower, di angelo. ''

[walkpathe-arch]

1 for bianca and jinx!

the seedy little bar sits in a foggy little alley far from her usual prowling grounds, closer to the bridge that connects the undercity to piltover. jinx scrunches up her nose and tries not to hug an arm across her stomach, keeps it dangling at her side — in easy reach of the gun strapped there. bianca said something to her earlier (wait here, five minutes) but jinx now shrugs, bored, mood swinging until she can hardly keep track of it. she doesn't like it. she doesn't like being told to wait like she's a little kid again.

she checks her painted nails for give. almost brings a finger to her mouth before she remembers that she isn't supposed to do that anymore. she could start shooting, at least that would make all these people jump and move out out out. like little rats. she could throw one of her smokey bombs and see what happens.

someone knocks into her hard. she flinches, stumbles and doesn't understand. can barely breathe through the absurdity of this. her shoulder and side hurt. the gnarly looking man is in her face now, all spit and insults. jinx sneers. oh, right. this isn't the last drop. still, this idiot should know better. nobody does this to her, nobody ever dares. one, she'll kill him. two, if she doesn't, the man will wish she did.

before it can turn really ugly, bianca is right in front of her, telling the man to walk away. she can't see the man anymore but oh she tries, going on her toes, trying to slide sideways past bianca. she sticks her tongue out at the man's back, laughs when bianca drags her outside. until she stops, sudden like a wet fuse sputtering out.

'' he started it. and i would have finished it. was about to, actually, before you went all knight in shining armour on me. stop doing that, bee bee, it ruins all the fun. ''

prompt

[feminurge]

does evil come from within us, or from beyond? / biancaishtar

"is that truly the question you wish to ask, bianca?" the god-like monster smiles through the black veil she wears upon her face. once upon a time, perhaps, the girl would have looked wild & human. she would have sat on furniture with her legs crossed under her. so disrespectful. so lively. so beautiful. these times have passed, and with it everything else: the only whirlwind within her sits in her near-white eyes, the pupil a swirling grey.

once upon a time, their power had been matched: they were each other's weakness. bianca's claim on the throne relied on ishtar's word, and ishtar's power on the church could only remain with the queen's agreement. once upon a time, they had been friends. lovers. a mismatch of limbs on a royal bed, the king of the air a heaving mess between them. is that when they had started to lose her?

does anyone even know?

lost, or perhaps found.

a festering wound and a few broken words. an impossible darkness, swallowed by her screaming mouth. the church had fallen upon her, yes, a final attack from those who refused the black queen to sit upon the throne- kill the apparat and blame it on the crowned thief. a perfect, immaculate plan. she had not crawled out of the rubble. deemed dead by those who had loved her. or had said they did.

dead. yet alive. a slow, thoughtful pulse. the unbecoming of a woman, the making of a god. her power had feasted on her body & her mind; amplifier amplifying itself through the singular act of cannibalism. to save oneself by eating oneself. the ouroboros of true creation.

"do you wish to hear your own thoughts?" she asks, idly, the phantom rasp of her voice a hurtful memory. "you think me monstrous; & so you wish to know if you have missed this state within me, or if you have responsibility in its creation." her smile grows impossibly wider. how terrible. what would you do, if the body of a lover awoke from death to torment you? would you hold it? would you search for a reason to blame it for its own crumbling bones, its own decaying flesh?

"is that not you who left me under the debris?" she is behind bianca, now. the subtle movement of light. "should i come for nikolai instead? ruin him for you?" the soft caress of her veil as she leans above bianca's shoulder. an impossible feat; ishtar used to be small. so humanly small. "mh, perhaps i shall. come back for you later. let you here, wondering of evil's birth; blind & deaf to the wicked fate you have bestowed upon your king."

[mvndrvke]

@zeitkeist (continued)

Achilles knows Bianca. He knows that things are not always the easiest, and more than that, he knows that emotions are not always something that can be controlled. Certainly, he's known that pain and anxiety and fear more than anyone. Surely, he's the one that can understand that more than anyone else.

Shit's real when Bianca can't even call him Achilles. If it's Achi, he knows that Bianca is in trouble ( mostly because he's said how much he can't stand it, but he's willing to tolerate a lot for Bianca's sake. )

"I've got you," he says firmly, holding her face in his hands. "Breathe. Focus on me, okay? Breathe in and count to five. With me." He inhales slowly, counting to five. "Exhale to five." He exhales. "Inhale to seven.... exhale to seven.... inhale to ten.... exhale to ten...." He exhales.

"I'm here. Tell me what you need."

[denouemente]

rhaenyra was never one to be devout — a casual believer, all her knowledge from a friendship that had long since fizzled and burned into ash. she knows she'd be utterly alone if not for bianca, left to question her place among the men of her father's small council and of her future kingdom. hearing what she'd just heard was common at this point, questioning her position as heir when he now had a son, aegon ii. she didn't know what it was this time, but it struck her to her core. thankfully, bianca was exactly where rhaenyra anticipated she would be, and she ran to her without stopping.

“ i'm sick of wondering if or when my father will remove my birthright and bestow it on my brother. ” the word felt foreign on her tongue, i will never be a son. “ sometimes, i wonder if having my future planned is worse than not. i hate this feeling that i'm going to plan everything around the throne, and that it will be taken from me with no say. ”

@zeitkeist: when you're ready to hear what the gods have in store for you, they'll tell you.

it takes everything inside of her not to look too outwardly disappointed, each mention of the gods feeling like another blow to her already bruised ego. but she values bianca's opinion and presence, so she offers her a rather forced smile, one that doesn't reach her eyes. “ mayhaps i'd be happier with the gods if they'd just tell me. ” she sighs, folding her arms over her chest. “ i don't have time to wait around for the gods while some lord tries to convince my father i'm not a worthy heir. ” she sighs, staring up at the ceiling. “ maybe they'll talk to you before they talk to me. what are they saying? ”

[wineassassin]

with @zeitkeist: when we stopped talking... i really missed you. did you miss me?

god, he hates the way she says it. they stopped talking. there was a serious, almost cataclysmic end to their communication as life (and other dangerous events) got aggressively in the way. now they're here, facing one another in sebastian's university office, and bianca swallows down the truth with her heavy eyes and soft expression. it's almost enough to shoot him down right there. he's not in his chair anymore; he's rounded the desk to find her, face to face with the very person he's been missing all this time.

"i didn't mean for us to stop talking." it's the truth, but sebastian isn't sure if bianca will believe it. "and of course i missed you. i miss you every day." he's got a hand leaned back against the edge of his desk, gripping the wood like it'll steady him somehow, gift him safety and reprieve. it doesn't. bianca's eyes continue to bore through his skull. "not a moment goes by when i'm not thinking of you. life's just... it got out of hand fast. my work's gone nightmarish. guess i didn't want to overwhelm you or beg for you to come visit me when i'm so hectic myself." the hand that grips the desk remains stuck in place, but his other hand dives outward, eager to take bianca's hand. "we can catch up now," he insists softly. "tell me what's been going on. what have you been up to since i last saw you?" his turn to stare. "please."

[satellitewar-archived]

from @zeitkeist: this is how it always has to be. / bianca and alekos!

the suit he wears is stuffy, itchy, and too tight in all the wrong places, but maybe that's his fault for not attending all the fittings his parents scheduled for him. now he's forced to meet his elected betrothed in an uncomfortable suit, in an uncomfortable heat, with uncomfortable shoes and an uncomfortable expression plaguing his face. if alekos had his way, he'd be high in the sky on his dragon, gesthamane, right now, far from the castle and far out of anyone else's mind. he'd be in comfortable clothes that actually fit, and he wouldn't be locked into a marriage of convenience with a royal from nearby.

at least bianca seems nice. bianca di angelo gives off an air of discomfort, too (as anyone would be in their awkward situation), but at least she's kind about it. she makes an observation about the state of their countries, insisting this is how things go — this is the way diplomacy works in their day and age — and while alekos deeply disagrees, he nods along. it's what he's supposed to do. he's engaged to this woman; he might as well get on her good side.

"since we have no say," he prompts, clearing his throat (and fixing the tight collar of his coat), "we should... at least try to get to know one another." alekos attempts to wipe the anxiety off his face, and ends up looking more constipated than pleased. it's a bad look. "tell me about house hades." that's a better thing to ask. "i've never seen your home, but i hear a lot of stories about it from those who've traveled through."

[rottedfigs]

the night is growing old, a candle dwindling down to its final legs, yet the happiness between the colleagues has not come to any of the same end. they are all still laughs, bellies full of cheap beer and delicious eats. denji has a feeling spread across his chest that he isn't sure he has felt before. belonging? is this what it feels like to be among peers? it is warm, and welcoming, and kind. he could definitely get used to this kind of behaviour. however, when power falls back off her chair from laughing too hard, it seems like the group has had enough fun for one night.

as they brace themselves for the nippy air outside, denji is helping aki with herding power in the right direction when he feels something warm against his skin. confusion, it is harsh in the lines of his face as she spins around to find the cause. eyes shift down to where bianca's fingers are gently grasped around his wrist.

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving. @zeitkeist

‟ what, do you need my help, too? ” there is a teasing tone to his voice, as they're stopped just outside the exit. aki and power walk on ahead, to find a ride home. denji leans his shoulder up against the brick wall beside them, looking down toward her. there is an unusual confidence brewing underneath his words, surely led on by the alcohol. ‟ you wanna come home with us? i'm sure you can find a place to crash. ”