❝ i. EXVDOVA. / YELENA BELOVA.
THE CASTING OF MORNING LIGHT , as scattered and as soft as her mind . there’s a curious peace , something she hasn’t felt before , a contentedness , or maybe just a lack of fear . they mirror each other , more ways similar than different , she in red , her in white . they’re spiders meeting in the same web . only one doesn’t know it is caught , nor does it care . and maybe she should , she should hate her , she should hate her father , she should hate the red room . she should , she should , she should , and yet she does not . instead she drinks the poison handed to her , the smell , sweet , the taste , bitter .
❛ i should … i should . shouldn’t i ? —— you deserve to be despised ? ❜ she’s unsure , a question pressed against her teeth in an attempt to bar it from slipping through . yes , she is weak , and here’s the proof .
SILKEN SKIN, dipped in the honey of sunlight, spread in subtle surrender upon soft sheets, space shared as if the very act considers itself FORBIDDEN ------------- but the uncertainty of lena’s words nor natya’s own REGRET cannot wither the heart that beats its tune of AFFECTION / INFATUATION in her breast.
❝ of course ——— of course. ❞ how tender does sorrow come when whispered against another’s skin. her lips linger like love along her back, pressing kisses to the valley between her shoulder blades, to the peak of her spine, to the curved ravine of her neck. delicate fingers do comb through short blonde locks, GENTLY, cautiously, as if her hand does caress a wolf who could bite without warning. SHE WONDERS WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE IF SHE DID STRIKE ; HOW SHE WOULD WEAR THE MARK. ❝ i don’t know why you let me love you like this. ❞
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