( they never talk about it. the days disappear faster and faster, misha's torn in at least twelve different directions every day. cole disappears for hours at a time, comes back with new bruises. the weight of what is coming — what they've been training for — looms over them. on the nights where they can't help but fall together, they still don't talk about it. tears run down her face as she pants through a climax, and they could pretend it was just the overwhelming moment, if it weren't for the way cole kissed them off of her cheeks with a gentle tenderness that no one else gets to see.
misha doesn't know what breaks, in the end. she's in a meeting, she's been in meetings all day, discussing alliances and potential issues that may arise after ascension. everyone talks like she's guaranteed the win — and that's reasonable, probably. the odds are heavily in her favour. there's a short window between one conversation and the next. misha steps out for some air.
in a blink and she missed it moment, she's outside cole's chambers. she's pushing her way in without announcement. she's staring at him, wrapping yet another new wound, and her chest feels tight, and her head is spinning, and misha has always done her duty—
[ the weight of stress falls heavy on his shoulders. it used to be only the stress of protecting misha that preyed on him, but now, there's an entirely new pressure to everything. he goes about the days behaving the same, acting the same toward her and keeping to himself -- what was and is normal -- but in his head he has a level of fixation that can't be ignored. what was once a job is now a woman who he cares about. her eyes, her soft hair, the smoothness of her skin that he wants desperately to remain unscathed -- he wants to keep her safe. that ideal isn't reality.
he will do his job, and finish it, as he promised.
he doesn't do much while she's away tending to duties, aside from regular patrolling, training and barely any sleeping, his schedule is fairly open most days. no one else can tell him what to do, anyway, so he takes care of what he needs and retires to his chambers for short periods of time. he's standing over a small table with an old, wrinkled map of the area laid over it. there are markings all over the place, but none of them mean anything except to cole. misha comes inside in a flurry, which makes him think something is wrong, and as he scans over her, he notices she's wrapping another wound --
her words make his brow furrow and his eyes dart up to meet hers; he doesn't know what she means, but he will follow her anywhere, as is his duty. did one of the higher ups call her? is there a breach? no, he would have heard, so -- ]
( distantly, misha is aware that she's feeling something an awful lot like panic, which is laughable because she just doesn't. misha has handled just about everything thrown at her in the last few years with grace and with calm, and the only time she's even come close to losing it was on one particularly unpleasant incident where cole had gotten injured. it had been bad. misha had really thought that she'd lose him that day.
the vice around her throat feels an awful lot like that, actually.
for a moment she doesn't answer, just pushes into his room and does a few spins on the spot, looking lost. eventually she finds a direction and tugs open one of his drawers, grabbing a shirt and pants and throwing them on the floor behind her. )
Help me get out of this.
( the elaborate dresses that the families insist on them wearing through almost every aspect of these rituals have never felt more oppressive. she has more suitable clothes, of course, but on another side of the house entirely. there's no time. this will have to do. )
Get it off. ( she snaps — orders, actually. misha doesn't do that with cole very often any more. they're never not aware of the dynamic given to them by virtue of their positions, but where she can, misha likes to treat him as an equal.
she stops her movements then, swallowing hard and stilling her hands that are currently trying to rip open the ribbons of her corset on brute strength alone. misha turns, eyes finding cole's and looking at him carefully. it's possible that she's misread this entirely, that he sees her only as a master — and one stupid enough to let him into her bed at that. but she doesn't think so. she knows better. )
I want to leave. With you, as far as we can get. Do you want that too?
[ cole hardly sees misha panic, and when he does he usually waits until the storm goes by, watching her fuss and rush back and forth between places. this time is different. a frown pulls on the corners of his lips as she tosses pieces of clothing to the floor. he's never seen her this wound up about something, which makes him pause, at the first request, a bit shocked; and jump at the order.
he obliges, with two long strides he's standing behind her. cole's done and undone a corset so many times he's able to rush through it, even with his large hands. he isn't speaking, isn't questioning -- he's thinking. she's flushed and tense, but it isn't to be confused with fear, and he never saw them going any further than the outside gates together to lead her to her fate. it wasn't possible in his mind to even entertain the idea.
on the last ribbon to loosen the corset enough to get out of, he finally speaks up. he isn't sure if she's serious, though she'd never joke about this. questions race through his mind, but the only one that leaves his lips is -- ]
Are you sure?
[ he's bound to her in more ways than one, conditioned to put her needs first, but this isn't just about her, it's about them, and while he would be able to serve her for those mere ten years should she make queen, the idea of walking her to her death (and his own) has been weighing on him more and more every day. ]
[ the very instant that the corset is unlaced misha is shoving the dress down her torso, stepping out of the layers of heavy fabric and kicking it away like any contact at all is a poison. it doesn't help, she still can't breathe quite right, this is all wrong. it's usually more exciting these days, when she stands in front of cole in only her underwear, but right now there's nothing tantalising about the moment. her mind whirrs a mile a minute, her eyes dart like a caged animal.
misha has never thought about leaving before. genuinely, truthfully, not even once has the thought crossed her mind. she's always been ready to march into the offertory and take the role she has been trained for since birth, by any means necessary. no part of her ever considered doing anything other than what has been expected of her, until now. ]
You have to think about this.
[ her thoughts pivot suddenly, solemn and serious even if her frantic energy still hums just below the surface. she looks at cole, long and hard and unrelenting, because she knows exactly what she's asking of him.
she knows that he knows too, but she has to be sure. ]
They'll kill you, if they ever find you. If we stay- ten years of your life, and you're free. You could do whatever you want, go anywhere.
[ it's not unheard of for daughters to go missing in the nights before the sacrificial, but not exactly common — and certainly not amongst the Houses. the family will recover, but it will be a scandal talked about for generations.
she won't go, if he won't, but she won't say that. it has to be his decision, she won't command this of him. her hands ball into fists at her sides, willing herself to settle just a fraction, and she watches him for any signs of hesitation, even the ones he might not vocalise. ]
You could have a good life, after. If we stay.
[ after she dies, of course, but she won't put a voice to that now. ]
[honestly, he's thought about leaving more than once, especially in the beginning. laying awake at night wondering how far he could get before being found and inevitably slaughtered. he didn't know how to handle a kid, didn't know how much he'd end up wanting to protect her. he had nothing else but her and the constant drilling of succeed or die. it's not like he had a family to fall back on. the freedom promised afterward had been tempting, but it doesn't feel the same anymore. now he wants to leave with her. to protect her from her fate.
his eyes try to find anywhere but her, steeled glances as she rids herself of the dress. he doesn't know how to offer comfort in the regular sense and his fingers twitch. his gaze falls on the bare skin of her collarbone just briefly, the elegant curve of her neck.
the weight of the conversation is the only thing that brings his focus to her eyes.]
I have thought about it.
[the life that she implies is one that he isn't sure she really knows about. he'd be past the prime of the underground, yet too skilled to be taken back in.]
We would need to leave the country.
[find a ship, disguise themselves. his voice is nearly a whisper, ears listening for any sounds outside of this room. he has nothing, but she has everything. Misha adapts, but he wonders if she could survive living on the run, always looking over her shoulder. he can't protect her forever - that is his hesitation.]
They'll blame you, and they won't ever stop looking. You will never be able to come back. Cole.
[ regardless of her youth, misha has been groomed for leadership for as long as she can remember, and she doesn't remember the last time she felt like a child. she does now though, a little, staring up at cole with a grim set expression on her face.
she has to make him understand, impress upon him how much she's asking of him--but he knows so much more about the world than she does. really, misha can't be saying anything that cole doesn't already know. she feels clumsy, immature, naive, but there isn't time enough to put more thought into this and choose her words more carefully. there's no constructed poise, just a frenetic urgency. ]
If you're not a hundred per cent sure about this...
[ she finally breaks the intense eye contact so that she can duck and grab his tossed clothes, pulling his shirt over her head and yanking comically large pants on. she doesn't care, it isn't important. there's only one thing that she can focus on right now, they're on the precipice of a decision that is going to change their lives forever.
even if he says no. even if he chooses to stay, misha still asked him, and they'll always know that. ]
[he could count the times on his fingers on one hand that she's looked at him like she is now. she's pleading with him as a child would - no, in her eyes, she's begging. his stoicism breaks, mouth slack. he wants to say her name, feels the urge catch in his throat.
a flash of what can only be interpreted as concern on his face as he watches her pull on his clothes. they hang off her small frame, swallow every ounce of her shapely body. in another world, in another time, he would have liked to see her in his clothes more. he can see it - a dozy morning with linens draped over her as they would drape over venus.
he wants to leave with her, for her. he's supposed to want what she wants, but now is abrupt and he can't linger on what should be inappropriate thoughts for him.]
I am. [he'll keep her.] I'll keep us safe.
[he's memorized the schedule of the guards and he's sure that she probably has, too, else she wouldn't be doing this right now.]
there isn't enough time to allow the gravity of the situation that they're about to plunge into sink in, but misha allows herself a small handful of seconds as she's hiking the pants up and as tight as they will go to exhale shakily. they're doing this, for better or worse it's decided now, and once they step out of the house there will be no going back.
misha would have done her duty. she would have walked into the slaughterhouse and she very likely would have won, and if not she would have died trying. misha would have done it all and she wouldn't have so much as considered the thought of running away, if it wasn't for--whatever nebulous, fragile thing that has bloomed between them. they haven't even put words to it. this is insane.
but she isn't worried about that. it's maybe the only thing tonight that she's been unwaveringly sure of. this is the worst thing that she will ever do in her life. it's the only right decision she's ever made in her life. ]
I don't think we have time to get anything.
[ not that she cares much for her belongings, they're representative of a very different future that she's turning her back on, but money would be helpful in finding safe passage, keeping witnesses quiet.
cole is resourceful though, and misha has been trained in more than just being a queen. she was supposed to be a killer out there, too. they'll figure it out. ]
Come on, we don't have a lot of time.
[ misha takes cole's hand, winds her fingers through his and squeezes, and it's not the first time she's grasped for a stolen and forbidden touch, but now, with what they're about to do, it feels brand new. ]
[quick to move around his room to pick up whatever he can shove into his pockets as she dresses. multiple knives -- some sheathed into his boots, others around his waist. his main weapons are his fists. he grabs money, enough to last for a few months if they're careful with it. he hesitates with his back to her by a nearby drawer, takes a quiet breath, caves and ends up tucking an suspicious little cloth bag into a spare pocket.
then she's at his side and he has to pretend like he isn't bringing what he's bringing. her touch sends a jolt of electricity up his arm. comfort is a stranger to him, and she's asking for it, but she's also reciprocating. he squeezes her hand back, his grip strong and assuring. with one last look at her he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.]
Whatever happens, don't make a sound. If I tell you not to look, don't look.
[orders for her coming from his own mouth are foreign, but there won't be hierarchy with what they're about to do. he's a servant, but now his role has rapidly evolved into something new. no one else will be able to watch him as she watches him.
he leads her into the halls, through the winding corridors. eyes and ears peeled for any remnant of sound; even a sneeze will give him pause. they have to make it to the carriage house. worst case scenario, they walk until reaching town, but that is the worst case. thieves lurk in the shadows of the woods and he'd like to avoid unnecessary combat.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
you better run, better run, faster than a bullet.
misha doesn't know what breaks, in the end. she's in a meeting, she's been in meetings all day, discussing alliances and potential issues that may arise after ascension. everyone talks like she's guaranteed the win — and that's reasonable, probably. the odds are heavily in her favour. there's a short window between one conversation and the next. misha steps out for some air.
in a blink and she missed it moment, she's outside cole's chambers. she's pushing her way in without announcement. she's staring at him, wrapping yet another new wound, and her chest feels tight, and her head is spinning, and misha has always done her duty—
she doesn't want to any more. )
We have to go.
hi ya im here i missed u and this
he will do his job, and finish it, as he promised.
he doesn't do much while she's away tending to duties, aside from regular patrolling, training and barely any sleeping, his schedule is fairly open most days. no one else can tell him what to do, anyway, so he takes care of what he needs and retires to his chambers for short periods of time. he's standing over a small table with an old, wrinkled map of the area laid over it. there are markings all over the place, but none of them mean anything except to cole. misha comes inside in a flurry, which makes him think something is wrong, and as he scans over her, he notices she's wrapping another wound --
her words make his brow furrow and his eyes dart up to meet hers; he doesn't know what she means, but he will follow her anywhere, as is his duty. did one of the higher ups call her? is there a breach? no, he would have heard, so -- ]
Where?
[ she's going to have to clarify. ]
no subject
the vice around her throat feels an awful lot like that, actually.
for a moment she doesn't answer, just pushes into his room and does a few spins on the spot, looking lost. eventually she finds a direction and tugs open one of his drawers, grabbing a shirt and pants and throwing them on the floor behind her. )
Help me get out of this.
( the elaborate dresses that the families insist on them wearing through almost every aspect of these rituals have never felt more oppressive. she has more suitable clothes, of course, but on another side of the house entirely. there's no time. this will have to do. )
Get it off. ( she snaps — orders, actually. misha doesn't do that with cole very often any more. they're never not aware of the dynamic given to them by virtue of their positions, but where she can, misha likes to treat him as an equal.
she stops her movements then, swallowing hard and stilling her hands that are currently trying to rip open the ribbons of her corset on brute strength alone. misha turns, eyes finding cole's and looking at him carefully. it's possible that she's misread this entirely, that he sees her only as a master — and one stupid enough to let him into her bed at that. but she doesn't think so. she knows better. )
I want to leave. With you, as far as we can get. Do you want that too?
no subject
he obliges, with two long strides he's standing behind her. cole's done and undone a corset so many times he's able to rush through it, even with his large hands. he isn't speaking, isn't questioning -- he's thinking. she's flushed and tense, but it isn't to be confused with fear, and he never saw them going any further than the outside gates together to lead her to her fate. it wasn't possible in his mind to even entertain the idea.
on the last ribbon to loosen the corset enough to get out of, he finally speaks up. he isn't sure if she's serious, though she'd never joke about this. questions race through his mind, but the only one that leaves his lips is -- ]
Are you sure?
[ he's bound to her in more ways than one, conditioned to put her needs first, but this isn't just about her, it's about them, and while he would be able to serve her for those mere ten years should she make queen, the idea of walking her to her death (and his own) has been weighing on him more and more every day. ]
no subject
misha has never thought about leaving before. genuinely, truthfully, not even once has the thought crossed her mind. she's always been ready to march into the offertory and take the role she has been trained for since birth, by any means necessary. no part of her ever considered doing anything other than what has been expected of her, until now. ]
You have to think about this.
[ her thoughts pivot suddenly, solemn and serious even if her frantic energy still hums just below the surface. she looks at cole, long and hard and unrelenting, because she knows exactly what she's asking of him.
she knows that he knows too, but she has to be sure. ]
They'll kill you, if they ever find you. If we stay- ten years of your life, and you're free. You could do whatever you want, go anywhere.
[ it's not unheard of for daughters to go missing in the nights before the sacrificial, but not exactly common — and certainly not amongst the Houses. the family will recover, but it will be a scandal talked about for generations.
she won't go, if he won't, but she won't say that. it has to be his decision, she won't command this of him. her hands ball into fists at her sides, willing herself to settle just a fraction, and she watches him for any signs of hesitation, even the ones he might not vocalise. ]
You could have a good life, after. If we stay.
[ after she dies, of course, but she won't put a voice to that now. ]
no subject
his eyes try to find anywhere but her, steeled glances as she rids herself of the dress. he doesn't know how to offer comfort in the regular sense and his fingers twitch. his gaze falls on the bare skin of her collarbone just briefly, the elegant curve of her neck.
the weight of the conversation is the only thing that brings his focus to her eyes.]
I have thought about it.
[the life that she implies is one that he isn't sure she really knows about. he'd be past the prime of the underground, yet too skilled to be taken back in.]
We would need to leave the country.
[find a ship, disguise themselves. his voice is nearly a whisper, ears listening for any sounds outside of this room. he has nothing, but she has everything. Misha adapts, but he wonders if she could survive living on the run, always looking over her shoulder. he can't protect her forever - that is his hesitation.]
no subject
[ regardless of her youth, misha has been groomed for leadership for as long as she can remember, and she doesn't remember the last time she felt like a child. she does now though, a little, staring up at cole with a grim set expression on her face.
she has to make him understand, impress upon him how much she's asking of him--but he knows so much more about the world than she does. really, misha can't be saying anything that cole doesn't already know. she feels clumsy, immature, naive, but there isn't time enough to put more thought into this and choose her words more carefully. there's no constructed poise, just a frenetic urgency. ]
If you're not a hundred per cent sure about this...
[ she finally breaks the intense eye contact so that she can duck and grab his tossed clothes, pulling his shirt over her head and yanking comically large pants on. she doesn't care, it isn't important. there's only one thing that she can focus on right now, they're on the precipice of a decision that is going to change their lives forever.
even if he says no. even if he chooses to stay, misha still asked him, and they'll always know that. ]
You have to be sure.
no subject
a flash of what can only be interpreted as concern on his face as he watches her pull on his clothes. they hang off her small frame, swallow every ounce of her shapely body. in another world, in another time, he would have liked to see her in his clothes more. he can see it - a dozy morning with linens draped over her as they would drape over venus.
he wants to leave with her, for her. he's supposed to want what she wants, but now is abrupt and he can't linger on what should be inappropriate thoughts for him.]
I am. [he'll keep her.] I'll keep us safe.
[he's memorized the schedule of the guards and he's sure that she probably has, too, else she wouldn't be doing this right now.]
Let's go.
no subject
[ so they're doing this.
there isn't enough time to allow the gravity of the situation that they're about to plunge into sink in, but misha allows herself a small handful of seconds as she's hiking the pants up and as tight as they will go to exhale shakily. they're doing this, for better or worse it's decided now, and once they step out of the house there will be no going back.
misha would have done her duty. she would have walked into the slaughterhouse and she very likely would have won, and if not she would have died trying. misha would have done it all and she wouldn't have so much as considered the thought of running away, if it wasn't for--whatever nebulous, fragile thing that has bloomed between them. they haven't even put words to it. this is insane.
but she isn't worried about that. it's maybe the only thing tonight that she's been unwaveringly sure of. this is the worst thing that she will ever do in her life. it's the only right decision she's ever made in her life. ]
I don't think we have time to get anything.
[ not that she cares much for her belongings, they're representative of a very different future that she's turning her back on, but money would be helpful in finding safe passage, keeping witnesses quiet.
cole is resourceful though, and misha has been trained in more than just being a queen. she was supposed to be a killer out there, too. they'll figure it out. ]
Come on, we don't have a lot of time.
[ misha takes cole's hand, winds her fingers through his and squeezes, and it's not the first time she's grasped for a stolen and forbidden touch, but now, with what they're about to do, it feels brand new. ]
no subject
then she's at his side and he has to pretend like he isn't bringing what he's bringing. her touch sends a jolt of electricity up his arm. comfort is a stranger to him, and she's asking for it, but she's also reciprocating. he squeezes her hand back, his grip strong and assuring. with one last look at her he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.]
Whatever happens, don't make a sound. If I tell you not to look, don't look.
[orders for her coming from his own mouth are foreign, but there won't be hierarchy with what they're about to do. he's a servant, but now his role has rapidly evolved into something new. no one else will be able to watch him as she watches him.
he leads her into the halls, through the winding corridors. eyes and ears peeled for any remnant of sound; even a sneeze will give him pause. they have to make it to the carriage house. worst case scenario, they walk until reaching town, but that is the worst case. thieves lurk in the shadows of the woods and he'd like to avoid unnecessary combat.]