THEME BY MARAUDERSMAPS
Winter's end
“Be still.”
“Yes…”
“Only sighs to escape your lips.”
“Yes, master…”
“Do not look at me, Ahna.”

But she did.
With shining eyes
And subtle sighs,
Her gaze would light
The darkest skies
And beneath her master’s
Cruel disguise,
Through vicious eyes,
She looked.

"You are weak and pathetic." “You are dead.” “How clever.” “I control you.” “Show me.”

"You are weak and pathetic."
“You are dead.”
“How clever.”
I control you.
“Show me.”

via:fvckhvney
source:fvckhvney
"

Specks of gold on river banks,
They shone with little to your hair.
They sang with nothing to your voice
And cried so much with your despair.

Specks of light within bright eyes,
They catch so like the riverside,
With songs that make the mermaids cry,
Strung vicious vicious vicious sighs.

And those sighs,
Braided autumn on high trees,
Which bring me to my broken knees.
And take you far away from me.

"
December 26th 2012 (via honeyed-sense)
Red laced and trimmed white, it adorned the edge of her bed, awaiting to be loved and adored for the few tantalizing moments before her steady realization. The sweet smile on her face at the reminder that it was Christmas would diminish, fingers that traced it adoringly violently tossing it aside. He could see her in his mind’s eye. Porcelain and bright, as bright as the snowflakes at his window, crimson curls to match the blush on her cheeks. She thought of him. Still.

His eyes closed and he did not hear her slip into his room. A shuddered moan and he did not feel her eyes on him. Hands unbuttoning his shirt, hearing the crumple of fabric to the floor, but never the quickening of her breath.

“Master.”

His parted lips curled into the devil’s smile, his gaze finally falling on her. What breathtaking deity was she, his fallen Persephone, naive to sample the fruit which would damn her to his eternity. 

“You are mouthwatering.”

Red laced and trimmed white, it adorned the edge of her bed, awaiting to be loved and adored for the few tantalizing moments before her steady realization. The sweet smile on her face at the reminder that it was Christmas would diminish, fingers that traced it adoringly violently tossing it aside. He could see her in his mind’s eye. Porcelain and bright, as bright as the snowflakes at his window, crimson curls to match the blush on her cheeks. She thought of him. Still.

His eyes closed and he did not hear her slip into his room. A shuddered moan and he did not feel her eyes on him. Hands unbuttoning his shirt, hearing the crumple of fabric to the floor, but never the quickening of her breath.

“Master.”

His parted lips curled into the devil’s smile, his gaze finally falling on her. What breathtaking deity was she, his fallen Persephone, naive to sample the fruit which would damn her to his eternity.

“You are mouthwatering.”

She had fallen to destruction around him, such supple cries to whisper and scream across his skin as she fell to pieces; he was victorious. Truly virtuous she had been, the sweet lady never falling short of her words. Such honesty to play the ears of a dishonest beast; how could she have been so trusting? Surely she knew he would bring her only pain. Surely she knew he would bring her no salvation, no fantasy of hers could he ever ring true; her death was imminent and soon he would bask in its untimeliness.

There nestled a light in her eyes now, body shaking and shuddering as he felt her tighten around his fingers; what a sight she had been. Effervescent cries to match her effervescent eyes, he would take such pleasure in watching it crumble. Blood dripped from his lips and she would see his teeth barred as his snarl sunk into her skin. She dared look at him with hope, with happiness, after enduring such torture. She dared be so naive, so utterly childish, in her hope for tenderness and gentility. Oh pity. Oh sweet, sweet pity to fall so mercilessly at her feet.

"You’re filthy," he hissed, releasing his hold on her suddenly and stepping away. It was his strength holding her against the empty stone, the sturdy frame which held her upright, cold between them now as he stood at a distance. He watched her melt into the wall, watched her slowly descend onto the floor beneath the tattered rags he had left her with. What a beautiful dress it had been, you look at me now with such sad resolve. Your skin was beautiful once. Look what I’ve done. "Pathetic."

Clothes readjusted upon his frame, fingers moving to fix his collar and his tie as he swept his eyes over her. With the back of his hand, he wiped her blood from his chin. “You will come to me without question the next time you are called.”

His footsteps grew dim and empty, leaving her behind in true darkness.

It was within her eyes that he found her pride still unbroken, her cruel vanity and ever crippling aristocracy a bright beacon within the depths of a blue he could not tear himself away from. And such pride, such sinful pride, was infuriating. There was an anger tearing through his very bones, gripping every nerve, every tendon in his body lit with rage as she continued to watch him. The cry emitting from her lips could do nothing to staunch his fury at her arrogance, his grip on her growing harder as the satisfaction became a numbing throb in his chest. She had not yet been broken, she dared defy him and stand her ground. She dared meet his eye in such shame, as she was pushed into humility, she stood tall and true. Royalty.

He would not stand it.

Another harsh bite to her shoulder, he felt the flesh tear beneath his teeth. Fury. Unencumbered fury. Pleasure wrought through her and his hands worked her delicate petals ever delicately, but the rest of her would endure the error of her ways. The effervescent light in her eyes held no place in these desolate halls.

Teeth sunk deeper into her flesh as his fingers brought soothe to her pain; the cruel smile amid the steady flow of blood against porcelain skin grew wider, darker… mad. She had driven him so terribly mad.

He would trail his lips across her broken skin and leave the imprint of her sacrifice; the wolf to play with his food, he would play with this decadence. Her cries to match her hair; crimson and wild, she was the epitome of his fantasies and his ever looming destruction.

She had driven him so terribly mad.

"Sing for me, sweet lady," he whispered.

master-dolohov:

How she had changed. How she had grown to such vivid, unimaginable class. He had left behind a girl. A young maiden who knew many hardships but nothing of the world. Nothing of his world, of his war, of these battles, this pain.

But now, she stood before him, reborn. His little faerie, his blushing bride, the girl who would shed such crimson tears now seemed to have none.

Here, before him, a woman.

Here, before him, his Queen.

master-dolohov:

Hours before his capture, The glow of her skin was gone.But without cowardice, he held her,Always darkest before the dawn. 

master-dolohov:

Hours before his capture,
The glow of her skin was gone.
But without cowardice, he held her,
Always darkest before the dawn. 

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

She did not want this.

The flower atop his desk, sunlight illuminating the diamond of the ring between his fingers. Hours had passed since his successor’s announcement of his betrothal, word to reach the delicate Lady Frost from another’s lips as the master remained unmoving in the confines of this study. He would not face her, the petals of the minute rose beginning to blossom and the sun slowly settling. No longer could he delay the inevitable.

The glint of silver was lost in velvet, ink to parchment before servants were summoned and the parcels delivered. No, he would not face her.

He could not.

I would watch you. 
I remembered the first time I ever touched your skin, how I wanted to rip the very light from your eyes. It was when I did that I would watch you, when the blue turned gray and your hair was never as light and how your lips stayed so placid. Always full, always ready to part, your pristine mouth, and I was suddenly captivated.
You were lifeless and I was drawn to you. Your eyes reflected your desire for death, your voice still trembled when I touched you but your will had gone and I was ever so enraptured. I wanted to give your life back and take it from you, I wanted to watch you bleed and hold you, bruise you and heal you, you had broken me. I had gone so terribly mad.
Beguiled was I.Disgusted were you.Fascinated I stayed.I still watched you. 

I would watch you.

I remembered the first time I ever touched your skin, how I wanted to rip the very light from your eyes. It was when I did that I would watch you, when the blue turned gray and your hair was never as light and how your lips stayed so placid. Always full, always ready to part, your pristine mouth, and I was suddenly captivated.

You were lifeless and I was drawn to you. Your eyes reflected your desire for death, your voice still trembled when I touched you but your will had gone and I was ever so enraptured. I wanted to give your life back and take it from you, I wanted to watch you bleed and hold you, bruise you and heal you, you had broken me. I had gone so terribly mad.

Beguiled was I.
Disgusted were you.
Fascinated I stayed.
I still watched you.