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“ clownwork. ”
leather clad arm that was snaked around shoulder could swallow her entirely if it so wished [ ... ] boa constrictor pulling her in tighter the further she leaned into his body. protecting her and any exposed flesh from the night breeze that nipped and bit with sharp teeth. perhaps even selfishly stealing her warmth for his own. . . . a moment idyllic and a slivering touch romantic —— while the young carny couldn't offer much , at least scenery such as this [ ... ] drenched in such beauty , was always at his fingertips. faux pout dramatically began to creep its way across his features. ❛❛ y'think i'm regular ? regular means booooring— ❜❜
she giggles at his touch, her nose scrunches as she presses closer to him, the breeze tickling the bare skin of her shoulders and arm. she halts at his words, eyes doe like with confusion as she peels away, shaking her head. " no ... no, i didn't- i'm sorry, i just ... you're not boring! you're not poison either, you're fun! " she nears a pout, so concerned about his feelings. her heart quivers at the look on his face. allie's arms wrap around him, squeezing him in a hug. " you're really nice and you don't hurt me! that's all i meant! "
@e1itist
" we should go out! " she perches her chin on athena's shoulder, to whisper her persuasion into her ear with pleading doe eyes. " please? it can be, like, just like how we met! we can wear sparkly stuff and do each other's makeup and- and dance! and ... and then- " she wriggles in anticipation, twisting with ideas upon ideas of what they could do, her mind a wonderland of everything she could imagine. " oh, i'm so excited! please come with me! pretty please? "
willow? everything in the room bleeds black, shadows dousing every surface and climbing further. it's wrong, and it only gets worse when she sees willow pressed into the corner. her stomach twists with dread, afraid that this must be a shadowed, scarlet version of the willow she had held only days ago. but it's not. she glows like moonlight, still, except she's shivering. except she looks sick beyond sick. except everything is wrong.
she pushes against all of it to reach her. the scarlet ribbon, the shadow color that's taken her hair and eyes. allie grabs her with such an intensity that she worried it'll feel like claws, but it doesn't stop her. allie hugs her, tight and warm and squeezing even when she doesn't mean to, her fingers press little pink dents into the cold skin. everything is wrong, and she doesn't know how to ask. she's scared to say anything, or to try, or to think, or whatever makes willow understand. she's scared to shatter the room, the space. book spines in dark browns and purples threaded with bursts of pastel colored petals, glitter tracing the shelves. a red rose, wilted, tangled in willow's hair. she can't find the life in it, she can't find the life in anything besides the barest beating of willow's heart. allie can't hide the fear, and it manifests into something shaped like words. are you dying? you feel like... death.
@springthings
Allie? Willow whispers. Somewhere in the real world it comes out as a scream. It must, because all she's been doing for the past two days now is scream. Her mouth agape, air passing in hot short bursts out of her control. Somewhere in the real world, she's weeping into a pillow and begging to be suffocated by it. But here, she's simply curled up in the corner of the room, wherever this is, and shivering. As if her only problem is the cold. Is that you?
Her lips aren't moving, she realises. They're speaking silently, without their lips -- or at least she is, unable to speak and scream and whisper all at once. The pain comes in waves but she's not conscious so the effects are dampened. Her eyes droop, her hair is stuck to the sides of her face. Willow shudders,
What's happening?
allie turns into her more, finds her fingers quickly and squeezing them. they're just as cold, but at least they're shaking. at least all of her is. she doesn't feel like death, allie has decided. her heart is still fluttering, like a scared little bird. she's supposed to know how to fix this, but she doesn't even know what it is. the fairy girl clings to willow like letting her go will mean losing her forever. i love you. don't leave. don't leave, i need you.
if she's not dying- and of course she isn't, willow said so. she needs to stop looking around so much and thinking and doubting and worrying because willow doesn't need to feel that too -then she must be sick. but she doesn't feel sick here, she just looks it. like her body is somewhere far away. she presses her head to willow's chest, ear to her heart, just to feel it beating. she doesn't think about how weak it seems, how afraid. you feel ... wrong. i- i don't ... i don't know what it is. i'm scared.
Not dying. Willow answers without being sure. She doesn't want to think about what's happening to her. Here it's warm (never mind that she's sweating, Willow feels like her fingers are going to fall off if she doesn't get warm) and safe and even if Allie is hurting her it is not as bad as what she's feeling out there. She feels it now, echoes of it. Swallows down the scream that wants to come bubbling from her lips. She's not speaking. So she can't scream, anyway. In the real world she tastes blood in the back of her throat.
She rests her head on Allie's shoulder. She's so tired. She's so tired and her surroundings are nothing but soft light from the fireplace and Allie's face and flowers and comfort and if she is dying, she would rather be here when it happens than out there.
Love you Alliebean. Scared.
@kiernabog
" tell me something! " allie cries, landing at their feet in an instant, the almost childish desire to know seizing her within the span of one moment. she had been the garden, chattering with the chrysanthemums in their bed, when she needed a story from the one she loved the most, and needed his company even more. her eyes are wide and filled with the demand of curiosity as she sits, and she decides that closeness isn't enough so she props her chin on the demon's knee, finding their hands so she could lace their fingers together. " pretty please? "
