“do you now?” it was completely childish. she didn’t have to prove anything to him. why was it like that with her? as if she had to prove that she was right, as if she had to prove that she was worth his attention. she reminded her of the orphan girls back when he was a kid. holding onto their teddy bears, holding onto whatever their parents dropped them off with, or the last thing they had before their parents died. it didn’t matter–it was something to remind them of home. she clung and clung to whatever she had in the back of her head, claiming she knew how to read people, like some fortune teller–but when was the last time she looked at mirror and actually saw herself. from the messed up makeup, to the painted smile on her lips–it seemed like it was ages ago. and that struck a chord with dimitri. “i mean doesn’t melody get us all hot and bothered? i think there were several nights where she just wandered around this place naked. truly, fascinating that one. “
and that’s when he took a good look at her. the scratches on her face were fading ,the dark circles were less dark then when he first met her. her clothes actually looked like they seemed comfortable. and there was something else–like if you catch her at the right moment; there was contentment. “that’s not true! i do have some taste.. i just have a thing with the ones that are interesting enough.” he said with that same cheshire grin before he took a step towards her and took a bite of his apple. “tacos. like the kind you get at the street carts? or burritos. actually anything spicy. unlike you, i don’t have a fondness for that french stuff..not into snails and stale bread.” looking down at his apple, he felt a small smile appear on his lips. “what sort of stories did you grow up with? i think the last one i remember reading was alice in wonderland.”
❛ i’m not kiddin’, sugah. see, when y’ grow up surrounded by GANGSTA descendants, y’ gotta know when to run and when to apologize. ❜ you’re not talking about london, though. you loved london. you were safe there. you were whole there. scarlett never had to APOLOGIZE to anyone in london. she BELONGED there, they respected her there. everyone in her street knew her, and when her mother took too long to get back from work they’d call her inside their houses. all of them with the same THICK ACCENT, all of them crying as she was whisked away, moving to america, america, AMERICA. what would you give to go back to london? NOTHING // EVERYTHING. YOU’RE GETTING OFF TOPIC AGAIN. she blinks, looking at dimitri, a slight smirk on the corner of her lips and brows arched upwards.
❛ if some lass came ‘round and told ya she wants to fuck, you’d say no? because yer not interested? i don’t BUY it. ❜ she watches as he takes a bite of his apple, biting the inside of her cheek as her fingers tap against the marble of the counter. SHE LIKES HIS EYES. they’re blue – like his –, but they’re HONEST ( don’t say that, don’t think that, don’t, don’t, don’t ), they’re almost warm, almost INVITING —- she can’t quite find it in herself to look away, not yet, not now. she’s not paying attention to whatever he’s saying, whatever it is that has to do with snails. ( he’ll discover. he’ll read your thoughts. he’ll punish you. there’s no one for you but him, him, him. ) . she rests her head on her hands, looking away from him. it’s the best she can do.
❛ KING ARTHUR movies were a big part of me childhood, y’ know? but the last one i read — i think it was THE DEATH OF KOSCHEI THE DEATHLESS. my mum was russian, so i just… ❜ what is it that stings the most: is it that she’s actually TALKING about her mother, or that the similarities to marya morevna are a bit too poignant? koschei is an evil immortal man, little girl, and he menaces young girls like you. it hits too close to home. it itches too much. she kills him in the end, little girl, come on, little girl.