americanvvitch | (Reply)

the terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue

I feel it in my blood
In the fire and the flood
The beast that can't be killed
Even now you mark my steps
Lovely bitter water
All the days of our delights are poison in my veins
I know I shouldn't love you
I know

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c h a r l o t t e l e n o r e a t t i c u s

From:

devildo

Ripe as they were, those berries would stay that way for days, untouched by time until just a little too far past their natural inclination. And new ones would sprout where the stems were empty, over and over again just a little too fast, until the first frost of the winter. By then, if she had any sense about her, she would have canned them, and Alastor thought of her next spring, opening those jars, inhaling the scent, thinking of him.

And where would he be, then? Precisely nowhere, uncorking those bottles of her blood and doing the same. Or perhaps he would have slurped them down by then, and this would only be a memory, like so many other strange and pleasant moments in his life, which were too few and far between. Hell was so strange, in such a particular way, all of the time. It didn't hold any of the mystery the living world did. It wasn't nearly so unpredictable.

He watched Lotte's fingers disappearing into her mouth, a move that should have seemed pointed, lascivious, uncomfortable. Maybe it was meant to be, how should he presume to guess? But coming from her, it only looked as innocent as everything else she did, innocent in how genuine it was. She was really enjoying herself to that extent, the extent that she didn't care how she looked, or perhaps didn't even notice it. That was something. That was a kind of wanton abandon you never saw in Hell.

"I could," he purred, his smile close-lipped and coy, his eyes a little narrowed, the corners curling and feline, again. "I could do anything you asked me to, and then some. I'm remarkably cunning. But then, so are you."

He considered her question, curling his tongue around itself inside his closed mouth, his cheeks sucking in as he did so, the hollows beneath his cheekbones darkening to bruisey, unearthly depths. In truth, he didn't know the answer any more than Lotte did. The question was, whether or not to admit that. But he'd already promised her he was no liar. "Who can say?" he asked her, with a shrug. "I was minding my own business, enjoying my fireplace, you know, and then I saw you."