at the minute, working a full time job that averages 55h a week plus socializing ever so often all I can realistically commit to are: asks on this blog and very few threads on my dear Monet’s one @snxwbird
What could any man want more than an extraordinarily dangerous woman with expensive tastes and a soft spot for manipulating her way into absolute power?
Two faces were dragged from the depths of her mind, all the more painful on this wretched day, the details of their features smudged by time. She mourned not even having a picture to remember them by, the sorrow only worsening due to the liquor surging through her bloodstream. The only things she truly remembered were their warm, loving smiles.
Lamy grimaced. It was a cruel joke of fate that one had perished in the midst of a fiery blaze, the other engulfed by the soft fall of fresh snow. She wondered if they would have gotten along well, if only they had gotten the chance to meet. They would hate to see them right now - at least this she knew for certain. Law was most likely in a similar state of mourning, having wordlessly withdrawn to his private chambers, door locked behind him.
The alcohol left a bitter sting in her throat as she took another gulp. Although she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she also grieved a third paternal figure on this day.
The cruel lies that had been woven around her still burned with betrayal - even over a decade later his hand still pulled certain strings in the darker parts of her mind. She knew that his ulterior goal had been to first sacrifice his, then her only sibling to obtain what he wanted, those years of feigned care and clever manipulation only the means to the end to bind their loyalty to him.
She didn’t know how much of it had been a facade and how much truth there had been in his actions and words, if any at all. It shouldn’t matter, really, not after Corazón had laid down his life to free the siblings from his heinous influence, protecting them until his heart had stopped beating.
Her own attachments had been genuine at least, no matter how hard she tried to forget some of them. She would never be rid of her parental ghosts, benevolent or wicked, not until she drew her last breath herself. Unstable fingers almost knocked down the nearly empty bottle as she set it down on the table, fingernails painfully burying themselves into her scalp as she rested her heavy head in her hands.
