Day 02;knight

day 02; “knight”

free-form; knight harry, prince louis

happy birthday @brickredtoe (i hope you don’t mind historical aus dhjkd)

Harry settles in his post to the right of the door, nodding a greeting to the knight he’s replacing before he takes his leave along with the other guard.

He flicks a glance at Liam, his constant patrol partner, who’s stationed on the other side of the door, staring ahead stonily. Harry likes to think that he takes his duties seriously, even the tedious ones like guarding the prince’s quarters at night, but Liam is on a whole other level.

It took him only a few days to realize that any attempts at conversation would go ignored, the determination to remain completely on guard for the entirety of their shifts blatantly displayed in his solid stance and set expression. Harry finds it rather amusing considering this job has been assigned to them as the newest recruits to the castle garrison and hardly requires such an intense concentration, but he doesn’t dare say a word.

Time passes by slowly, but Harry stays silent, ignoring the feeling of his sword weighing down in its sheath and the itch grating at the nape of his neck. Scratching it would disrupt the still atmosphere they’ve created. Not to mention, tolerance and endurance are vital qualities a knight must master, so Harry ignores as best he can and tries to focus on anything else.

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What’s the thought process behind your icon? Especially turning from warm hues to blues?

THIS QUESTION IS REALLY CUTE OMGNDJAJ sorry haha i didnt really expect people to notice so ty😢 ig bc we’re nearing winter? Is it winter already idek its raining season here so i just want to make my icon more holiday-y? If that makes sense- does that answer your question? Also i really love blue so

How long will this quarantine last?

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here is a lil something i wrote for the sweetest @behisoneandonly a while ago !! i hope u all like it just as much as me ❄💞

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a broken prayer on repeat

I’m swallowing my words.

 We tiptoe around each other with blood-frozen hands and cold toes. Why are we only beautiful enough to meet each other’s eye in the darkness? What part of me is it — the part that is hidden by these wispy shadows that makes you feel brave enough to meet my eye and touch my cheek and press your lips to mine. There is no fear on your lips, there is no love on mine — there is a bitterness, it reminds me of the fish oil you wanted to buy. It wasn’t bitter or was it? I don’t remember. I don’t remember so much of my past, so much of your past, so much of our past. I don’t remember why we are still tip toeing. 

Let’s throw away the bulbs, I’ll light the candles till they are nothing but wax so we don’t have to worry about being ugly in the light. I want to warm my toes, can you thaw my frozen hands, will you coax the blood back to red? Will you because I am tired of burning myself for you. I’m so tired of this — are we even good for each other? You don’t fit me, just like your ex lover’s shirt doesn’t fit you anymore. You still keep it in your closet. Am I reduced to an article of clothing now? The sun will be up again and I will close my eyes because you won’t look at them. We’ll have this one sided conversation right after you fall asleep, your fingers still touching mine. 

I’m swallowing my words.

_____

What do you want, darling? 

A loveless marriage between you and I where I break a plate and you rip a pillow because we are filled with silences? A loveless marriage where I keep touching myself in all the places you’ve never touched and you scrubbing all the places I have touched, trying to erase and create and create and destroy our achingly empty bodies. Trying to satiate this hunger, stop the curling of our acid soaking stomachs, replace the sourness of my mouth, the anger in your hips, it burns and burns and burns. 

We get caught up in this endless cycle of what we want vs what we need and neither of us want nor need each other so tell me why do you stay, why don’t you let me go. I know my answer but you will never hear it, you never ask. I keep stuffing feathers back into our pillows, you keep buying cheap plates and we keep nurturing this violent love that is born from our own violence. We keep nurturing and feeding it from our decaying souls as if we can forget the violence we inflict on ourselves in commitment.

What do you want, darling?