{meme} maybe it's by habit, they were lovers - they used to talk all night
Well, even if I manage to break the pattern we can at least say I've had a good week of posting.
Or that I'm doing little else with my life. Both are valid options. I won't lie, this is entirely an excuse to post a meme but whilst I'm here, let me just say that I went to see The King's Speech in the cinema again and I honestly cannot reiterate ( Read more... )
Or that I'm doing little else with my life. Both are valid options. I won't lie, this is entirely an excuse to post a meme but whilst I'm here, let me just say that I went to see The King's Speech in the cinema again and I honestly cannot reiterate ( Read more... )
She cuts a striking figure on her knees before the altar; she still wears a veil of sorts though her bridegroom is no longer the Son of God and she no longer the virgin. Angelo watches her, catalogues her movements until he knows them by heart: the flick of her fingers over her rosary, the click and smooth smack of her lips as she mouths her ave maria, the arc of her spine as she bows her head; she asks God for forgiveness for abandoning his call, for abandoning his bed he thinks to himself, watching the rise and fall of her breath.
Once he kneels beside her, intoning the prayers in the same manner and time and before rising, places his lips to her ear: "One day He will stop listening."
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I LOVE YOU.
I LOVE YOU.
I LOVE YOU.
I LOVE YOU.
PS: I have a thing about spines, have I mentioned? DETAIL-ORIENTED TOUJOURS.
Fuckit, imma prompt you again like a boss:
Isabella/Angelo - for mine are sinning hands
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ALSO PROMPT AWAY FOREVER
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She wears her rosary like a key around her neck, too precious to leave behind, too essential to dare forget - Isabella counts her ave marias more than one ought; the beads themselves are smooth, shined by near constant wear and she can tell each one from the next, not by the prayers no, but by the catalogue of sins she tries to absolve with each one:
the beat of her pulse as it quickens under his gaze
the itch in her fingers as he passes
the dreams of his hands
the weight she pretends is his
--- sins of the flesh, sins of the body, sins of the blood. She counts them off, her hands gripping the beads instead of what she desires most.
It will be these hands that betray her first.
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