rage at his deception , once white hot and coursing through royal blood as though lava , has cooled now , tempered by growing distance and realizations of fondness . flippant words that would have once been ready and waiting have evaporated , leaving only an inability to voice her innermost thoughts . fingers curl in on themselves , lips thinned between teeth as the lost princess searches for the right words to say , masking a start at being addressed by a title she has only recently reclaimed as her own .
‘ you don ’ t ever have to call me that . dmitry , i … ’ there is a truth to be told , here and now , if only between the two of them . the grand duchess chokes on the words before her lips begin to form them . ‘ uh , thank you . thank you for … everything . ’
Brows furrow, eyes slits as Dmitry adamantly shakes his head. “Oh, but I do. Y—you found where you belong. What was once a game well … now it’s reality.” Short, dirtied nails dig against tanned flesh of palms / BITTERSWEET smile tugging ‘pon dry lips. So much left u n s a i d && the conman’s baited breath left no room to make even more of a FOOL of himself.
“It’s the title you’ve deserve, && from someone like me, its how you should, how you WILL be addressed.” A shuffle of his feet, it’s time. Her words, whether truthful or n o t were too painful to bare ( the weight on his shoulders dragging him back to the gutter already ). Hands slick along his bag’s strap before he pauses. A tilt of the chin, bend at the hip, DMITRY BOWS. “I’ll always ——” L O V E Y O U . “Think of you.” He straightens, spinning on his heel ( don’t look back, can’t look back ).
(Source: wallopener)
A DAMNING PAUSE, too much time spent thinking. Feet firmly planted, he could easily STAY. But what could that possibly look like ?? Dmitry, a poor THIEF, an old Russian scoundrel with —— H E R ?? He learned to give up on fairytales long ago. Lips curl into a narrow line, hand tugging down his cap, digits ruffling though messy auburn locks / hope lost. “&& what ?? Wait to find you in another crowd of thousands ??” He was no prince, after all. If the truth didn’t choke, the con man would have LAUGHED.
“There’s no place for me here Anya ( a gulp, throat cleared ) your highness.” He corrected, fulling know well the expectations of royalty. “Better to leave && for you to pretend I was just a —— dream.” @againrisen // con’t.
