Your smile’s like starlight
This is cannon
adopting introverts
Ends of the earth / Lord Huron
breezeblocks // alt-j
Watching her precise movements, as she showed him the very same knife… hiding beneath her shirt—proving herself to never be unarmed—as it could be foolish for an assassin. It didn’t surprise him, not now.
“… I see.” He gripped it tighter in his hands, avoiding watching the brunette holding the very same knife he held—how did she manage? How did she know how to use this? They really were different in many regards… but that difference only made him more curious. Made him want to learn more. Learn more about this assassin who stood so confidently, knife in hand. Knife that killed. “But you don’t have to use it anymore. It’s in the past. If you leave them in here, they won’t try to find you, Harumaki. Only you can come to get them.”
The self-assured astronaut (trainee) stopped averting his gaze, instead directing it into her eyes. The eyes glancing toward the knife… eyes that could stop, look away, never to see that knife… ever again. It could be possible. It could.
“You could leave it.”
her face was impossible to read. no movement, no sound, no change in expression. —– only that constant sardonic gaze, caked in blood, watching and waiting. his words weren’t foreign to her ears, in fact she’d thought about it. leaving. —– but her shoulders lay heavy with burden and her face is wrinkled with experiences no high - school girl should know. but, it was all she knew.
‘ and do what ? ‘ she looked him dead in the face, knife still in hand. these grooves were familiar to her, this weapon —- it felt right. she had no family, no friends, only her knife. and maybe that was good enough for her.
‘ this is all i’m good at —- and it is what i’ve been told to do. i shouldn’t want anything else. i’m alive, and that’s all that matters. ‘
❤️ e ye emoji
lovefool / accepting !
o’ oleander —– beautiful in appearance, but soon, they will choke at the presence of you. you will close their lungs and fill them with such a noxious gas. you are not the insignia of the funeral, but, instead, the origin. you will soon break his heart and crush it beneath your fingers, blood stained hands befitting of such a devil girl. she felt as if a tool for others to toy with, as if her feelings were something easily manipulated. were these lips meant to be kissed like these eyes were made to kill ? her mouth pulsed and burned, allergic to this illegal touch —- she should heed it, she should listen. these instincts she relied on in battle, they let her mind die and corrode inside this cursed skull. but, this —- fingers that had sent knives into now lifeless bodies now grip his collar, a hold that was locked in place. yet, her fingers, why do they still shake ? she didn’t let him see her eyes. red irises filled with tentative emotion. uncertainty. she didn’t trust him with this information. she just wanted it out, she wanted it gone. her lips crashed upon his, like waves tousled by astral forces. violent. mad. passionate. wipe her memories clean and let her be reborn anew. let her wake up a better person. she kissed him until she was out of breath, and then a few more moments after that. voraciously, she let him free. claws sated and fresh were the marks on his neck. palms pushed him off of her, and she rose to her feet. towering above him like death itself. ‘ and i’m not the forgiving type. ‘ kaito thinks he can kiss whoever he wants. she hoped he’d rot.
“Why?”
A simple response to her answer. It was clear she didn’t intend to look him in the eyes, as she continued to avert his gaze—staring at the weapons present in the room… it made him wonder what was going through her mind as she spoke those words. What Maki thought about on a daily basis. If they could swap thoughts, what would happen?
Continuing to hold the weapon—a knife he had no idea how to wield—he moved it closer towards his chest. Analyzing it, contemplating on how dangerous it was… and these were items Maki found herself to be familiar with. A knife like this, if used correctly, could kill someone nearly instantaneously. What a frighteningly skillful thing. Maki was that—she was terrifyingly artful in her craft… work of assassination. But she didn’t need to be, did she? That wasn’t her—didn’t need to be. She could leave it behind… Kaito thought childcare suited someone like her more. A fake talent—fake innocence.
“Harumaki, have you… used this knife before?” A tight grip, as to make sure not to drop it… he continued staring at her—refusing to turn. Even if she wouldn’t look him in the eyes, he had no reason not to be looking at her. At the girl in front of him, the girl he knew as only Maki Harukawa. Not an assassin, not a killer.
her gaze shifted. not to him, but towards the knife. a slow nod moved her chin as she produced that same model, that same weapon, from underneath her shirt. maybe the ridges made it uncomfortable, but —– nothing felt more restraining than an unarmed woman.
fingers didn’t quite fit in the slots, as this was made for a much stronger, much more hardened criminal. not a little girl pretending to act like she knows the good of this world. ( newsflash ! she doesn’t. and she never will. ) oh, but these calloused knuckles and adolescent hands make for a strong grip. later, there’d be a shadow of this handle etched into her flesh with red markings.
‘ yeah. ‘ her eyes caught onto the blade of her own now, edge serrated and glistening as she twisted it in the light above. ‘ it’s —– one of my favorites. ‘
