the oleander and the marigold .
the oleander and the marigoldtwilight/hp crossover.
jasper/padma. accidental jasper/patil
pg.
Icy hands dig into marble flesh.
The line between restraint and hedonism blurs.
Each shift of her hair sends the intoxicating symphony of crushed marigold and faint sunlight trailing towards his nose, thrusting him closer and closer to the jagged brink of no return.
The fragrance has beguiled him one too many times -- he blames himself for returning.
His definitive fate stands artlessly on the other side of the wall.
His conscience battles grandiosely albeit futilely with the blackened waves of his lust, the warm amber light encompassing it fading to a dreadful black as the raving torrents greedily pull it to carnal depths.
Almost a century of learned self-control is swept away in a single moment, all because of the simple flip of dark plaited hair.
Venom drips like acid rain from exposed fangs, like sinister tears trickling down pallid daggers. His hollow eye sockets uncover the abject havoc that tears at his granite soul -- his lifeless conscience mourns for the flaxen blossom he's about to pollute: the golden marigold amidst the debris.
He's started the timeless fall years ago.
Every gun needs a bullet.
"Where's your flat, Parvati?"
"Just around the corner here..."
And he's lunging, pressing alluring and odorous flesh hard against the brick wall, sinking his burnished daggers into warm blood, his mind snapping, and it's a second too late before he wakes up and realizes the blood he's drank tastes different, and as the lifeless body of Parvati Patil slumps down to the concrete he looks up and staring back at him are the wide and hazel eyes of his marigold.
Padma screams through a curtain of black hair.
The oleander's fouled the marigold.