stilettoes: ➝ sᴛɪʟᴇᴛᴛᴏᴇs (vi.)
𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒗 ([personal profile] stilettoes) wrote in [community profile] station72 2018-01-12 02:32 pm (UTC)

[ the exhaustion creeps in, light little fingers at first pressing in heavier and heavier with the weight of it all. this is a heavy one, brick and mortal and wood and nail, a pretty estate entrapping something so bleak in the bowels of it. in the end, it's true, peter won't have the answers she wants or needs, seeks. so instead, he gives a shake of his head, braced on one hip lightly and leaning in the threshold, an alley cat that's gone and slipped in through the window. ]

( Well then that's awfully selfish of them, now isn't it? )

[ no fear for her voices here in this cellar, aging like wine gone off. he holds out a hand to her, a subtle offering she can take or leave if she likes, but a lifeline none the less. he offers her a smile, a curling of soft lips, straight to gray eyes behind his glasses. he brings a foot back up one step, an invitation. step up, step up. ]

( I'd like a turn, if you don't mind. They're already far too well acquainted with you and you and I have only just met. )

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