forum A Game of Cards.... ((One on One// PRIVATE//CLOSED))

Started October 28, 2018 by Deleted user

tune

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I’ll type it up again as soon as I get home I am so sorry

Don't worry, take your time

(I'm so sorry it took me this long to get back to you, my wifi kept cutting out at the worst times)
(the result is much shorter and not as good as the original, what I first typed up was all poetic, this is just… bland. Sorry ):

Marcus returned to his bed with a volume of his own, this time electing to sit on the edge of his mattress. As he read, his dark eyes flickered to Winnifred's, trying to judge her thoughts on the literature he had just handed her. Illegal literature, yes, he had snatched it from a book burning, but still quality and enticing. He felt a strange sort of anxiety, handing it over to her like it was a mere possession, when it was so much more than that.

Some people think of Death as a collector of souls, a reaper, someone to guide you on your journey to the afterlife. To others, Death is merely the transition from this world to another. It can be seen as an ill omen, a plague, a humbling blow, a great danger to outrun.
To me, it would be a God-sent escape.

My colleagues, my companions, constantly marvel at the 'miracle of life', and about how lucky they are to be alive in this beautiful world that God created. They do whatever they can to keep themselves away from the path to Hell, but don't realize that the precious life they are experiencing is, in fact, Hell, and the world beyond is what they call 'Heaven'.

Most fear Death. I crave it.

But I crave the slow process of Death, stretching it out as much as I can so that I can experience it to it's fullest. The very same blood that turns the stomach of grown men is spilling across the floor of my chambers as I write this, grounding me, focusing my intentions onto the page. The acute pain, the crimson against dark panelled flooring, all of it calms me, puts me at peace while providing what most would call a twisted enjoyment. But who are they to judge my philosophies? They could never understand, for Life is a beautiful, golden lie, and Death is an ugly black truth.

How ironic that lies are better told in the dark.

((Wait..wait…wait… You said THAT was bland? Wow, your definition and my are on two really seperate sides of the spectrum. That was great!! I can only imagine what the first one was like. A+))

Winifred raised a dainty hand to her lips, biting a nail as she read. You, fellow, would have gotten along nicely with my aunt. she thought of the author. She thought Death to be a god, in more ways than one. He thought Death to be a release. She began to wonder which on was write. She wondered if she would be greeted with great release, a great satisfaction after years of lies and misery. Or….

Her eyes trailed up to Marcus.

Would Death meet her where she was? Would he play with her mind, her heart, and trap her within his provocative will. Would he morph her into something hideous, and love her into death of the mind, of the soul, of the body…

(Aw thank you so much!)

For the briefest of secjnds, Marcus’s eyes met hers. He couldn’t quite gauge her expression, which worried him slightly. “Enjoying the book?” Looking back down at his page, he waited for her answer. He found himself much more dependant on a positive one than he would’ve liked.

"Yes…I am. Quite interesting." She nodded her head at Marcus. "Quite illegal as well." She smirked. She flipped through the pages. "Well used as well. Is this one of your favorites?" she asked.

Marcus managed a chuckle, even as heavy fatigue weighed him down. “Mm, I snatched it up from a book burning. The only existing copy. My hand was red and swollen for weeks, but it was worth it.” He glanced up at her, this time holding eye contact. “It is one of my favourites, I enjoy it’s somewhat… philosophical style.”

"I can see why." she laughed softly. This book screamed Lord Marcus Crenshaw. "It speaks of your character, no matter how unhealthy, it is true." She set the book to the side and folded her hands over her knee. She knew what she looked like without a mirror. Her mother sat like that all the time. But she'd eyed Winifred with condescending eyes and loathing. Winifred watched Marcus with wonder and fascination.

Marcus blinked, perplexed by the way she was looking at him, without a trace of loathing or frustration. “….. Yes, I suppose.” He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes searching her face for any trace of hate. He found none. What?

Winifred blinked and looked away. "You should eat another scone. Dinner won't be for hours." she stood and passed him another scone. Why had she looked at him like that? She tried to deny the answer but she couldn't come up with another. He is a fascinating creature…

Marcus shook his head. “It’ll just come back up again.” Returning his gaze to his book, he shook off any notion that she harboured anything but loathing for him.

"Very well…" She took a bite of the scone herself, they were still warm. She smiled and turned back to her chair to continue readying. After several moments of silence she looked up. "How is your chest feeling?"

Marcus shrugged. “Itchy. But it doesn’t hurt as much.” He didn’t know why every moment that passes with his book in her hands made him so nervous, it wasn’t as if she would be able to read between the lines on the pages and find his own ideals echoed back at her.

"Yeah… that'll occur until its time to remove those stitches…." she fell silent. An interesting portion came up in the story. She bit her bottom lip as she read, her eyebrows knitting together.

She kisses me like the sun kisses each individual petal on a rose, softly and full of light. She kisses me like this is the beginning, like it's the start of something new.
And that is exactly why I look away when her gaze meets mine from across the room. It is why I flinch when she reaches out to touch me with those gentle hands. It's why when everyone bends towards her like they are flowers and she is the sun, I lean away.
Because I don't crave the light. I don't crave soft, caressing touches or kisses that taste of honey and loving smiles.
I crave the darkness. I crave the sharp, biting silver edge of a blade. The kiss of a knife, one that carries you tantalizingly close to the end, just enough to give you a taste, and tugs you away at the last moment, leaving you wishing, wanting more. I crave the bitter, metallic, but somehow beautifully sweet taste of blood to blossom on my tongue.
She gives the kind of kisses that heal your wounds. I want the kind that give you them in the first place.

I am in a dark place. She is the light that could bring me out of it.

So, when I see her walking towards me, each step as light as a feather falling, I repeat a mantra to myself over and over again so that I can deceive her best.

I am a gaping black abyss. And lies are better told in the dark.

((I know, and neither do I through my little excerpts))

WInnie's eyes trailed up to Marcus as she read. Is he living out this book? she thought, concern filling her eyes. "It's funny…" she chuckled softly. "How sometimes… we can attach ours to realities that aren't reality at all. There are aspects that we find so…" she ran a finger over the soft velvet binding. "Tantalizing that we can't help but adopt them. Take Christopher Columbus as an example." She closed the book. "I think there are aspects of this book that you have adopted for yourself, Lord Marcus…"

Marcus clenched his jaw. “Considering the fact that I stole the book two and a half weeks ago, I am not convinced of your statement.” His voice was hard, sharp, but his expression stayed completely blank even as his tone gave away his emotions. This is why you don’t share books with people. He had been speaking the truth, the book was new, it had been the title that caught his eye as it lay in a heap with the other illegal volumes, and when he’d first read he had been amazed at the uncanny similarities between the writings and his mind. If he had believed in God, he might’ve thought it was part of His plan.

"Well then, let's call it an uncanny similarity." She set the book down, face up. "Why did you give me this book to read? Especially when you could have let me wallow in my immodest actions while reading that…. other book." She raised a brow.

Marcus looked her straight in the eyes. “You read to me from a book that was personal to you, I thought it only fair to do the same. And besides that, it’s a good book.” He leaned backwards slightly, returning his focus to his own book.

Winnie knew that if she had the ability, she'd have burst into flames out of blatant outrage. That is complete and utter bullcrap! She simmered silently, her eyes glowing to a bronze. Slowly she slid her eyes from him and returned to her book, though she hardly read single word.