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Williem couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, watching as Eliza playfully twirled around the parlor, the victrola playing some tune that he knew but couldn’t name. She was dressed down, her dress plain blue hues, that still brought out the colour in her eyes somehow, as her golden-bronze ringlets flew around as she turned and hummed along to the music. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but completely enraptured with his own wife. It was more than true, he’d never bothered to court her and instead had obtained her by force and manipulation, but she had stayed here with him. She’d grown to love him, and it

As he began to come to, one of the first things he realized was he was lying in bed. It was a little strange, because he couldn’t remember getting into the bed. Constantine was quite certain if he’d gotten himself into bed last night, he would’ve remembered doing it. He really wasn’t one to forget things. For a moment, he wondered maybe if he was hungover. He couldn’t really, well, he was having trouble remembering himself at a pub last night, so he wondered if maybe he had had one too many? Constantine had done it before, and being groggy like this wasn’t unusual. When he attempted to roll himself over

Elena had heard the term ‘somebody’s anchor’ before in her life. She never had put very much thought into the idea of it though, the sentiment of the whole thing. That being said, in the line of work she had used to dabble in, deciding to deem someone your anchor was a very bold, and frankly idiotic, idea. There was no honor among thieves after all, wasn’t that what they said? For a long time, Marco had been the only people who had come even somewhat close to having her trust. Looking back upon those careless days, she wished to take all of those mistakes back. It was so frustrating, to reply the memories over and

“What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.” ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet She knows her morning is going to be long and unbearable the moment she enters the dining room. Already her husband is seated at the dining room table, and from the look that passes through his eyes, he seems both pleased and surprised to find she actually has obeyed his command. She’s sure nothing would please him more than her obeying his ever whim like some kind of trained animal of his. She’s only been in the dining room a few times, and all of those visits had been under similar

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.” ― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones “Mistress?” Eliza glanced towards the bedchamber door, unsurprised to hear the soft rapping against the sturdy, ancient door try to draw her attention. Though she wanted to stomp her foot like a spoiled child, and force the person on the other side of her room to leave her alone, she didn’t dare do such a thing. She recognized the voice on the other side of the door,

“Be to her, Persephone, All the things I might not be; Take her head upon your knee. She that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant and free, She that had no need of me, Is a little lonely child Lost in Hell,—Persephone, Take her head upon your knee; Say to her, “My dear, my dear, It is not so dreadful here.” ― Edna St. Vincent Millay As a child, Eliza had been enamored by books. The tale could come from the mind of a pathetic writer or from the mind of a brilliant writer, it hadn’t mattered. She could get caught up in the tale spun about knights and dragons or tales of mad scientists, her mind had c

Williem loved his sister, but with that love, came a strong sense of protectiveness and pity. In his life, she was the only figure he knew to love him and fuss over him. Klara was the only person he bothered to let himself care about, because she was the one person who showed the same about of love and care for him in return. Why should he look to the rich, and love them like so many did, when his sister was the only priceless thing he needed? She was so sad often, and he hated that. She remembered a life he did not, a life he might have grown up in had life handed them different cards instead of the ones they had received. Maybe, instead o

Klara found Williem sitting outside one of the town’s shops, popping what appeared to be peppermint candies into his mouth, looking more carefree than she’d even seen him in a long time. It had her smiling slightly, relieved she’d found him behaving, but at the same time, the way he was sitting so casual and looking so proud of himself had her suspicious. As she approached him, she noticed his pockets looked to be full. Normally, she’d assume they were sweets like he was eating, but her little brother was far from a normal boy. If she didn’t know him so well, she wouldn’t be thinking those candies he had