taught me fate {nikolai}

[Talia Avedon]

Long nights and daydreams

Talia sat with her knees tucked under her, sketching on the same page she had been staring at for the last hour. She took a deep breath and added another of layer to the blue. It still wasn't right.

She would never get that color right. She knew it like she knew herself. It would always be one more fleeting moment that she couldn't capture. If nothing else was clear to Talia, it was that. People asked her why she tried so hard. Sometimes she wondered herself. To her, art was just that-- a futile project. Trying to make contact with the insubstantial. But that was beauty, wasn't it? She sighed as the tip of her pastel broke off. She pulled out the case to find another one. One more layer of blue wouldn't hurt. 

Then she heard voices from the other room. She looked up like she thought she might get caught at something. Even though she knew she lived here now, that she had every right to be here, she couldn't wrap her head around it. This gilded sunroom with bookshelves on the far wall couldn't be hers. The large easels displaying her painting were too fine. There were paint clothes on the floor and pencils and pastels all over the room. It was an artist's space. She didn't see herself as an artist. Not a real one.

But this room was hers. She knew it well. The windows with their golden edges that let light in all day, that were perfect for sitting subjects. The gold hue over the whole room from the glitter embedded in the wooden paneling. The pristine color of the white tile flooring that now had paint splatters all over it. It was not odd to her to know something so well and know it would never be really hers. It was how she had lived her life. 

She looked back down at her portrait. Those eyes were just one more thing. 

Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov
Outfit + Music

☽LIA☾ + PUNKI

[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Aunt Alita was Nikolai’s least favorite aunt. The woman was old, about half a century old, but she was wealthy, and when you’re wealthy, all that matters is appearances. That was why Nikolai had to be at her home today. She’d sent him an acorn message the day before, going on and on about how much she missed her lovely nephew. In truth, she’d probably gotten bored and needed some gossip to hold her over before her next soiree. He’d tolerated her questions. Had he visited her brother (his father) lately? (No, why would he do that?) Had he stopped smoking? (No, why would he do that?) Had he started to think about settling down? (No, why would he do that?) Aunt Alita had dismissed herself to use the restroom, and right as he could hear her footsteps coming back down the hall, he realized he should make a break for it. Dashing out of the sitting room, he grabbed the nearest doorknob and locked himself in, waiting for her to go looking for him before he could leave the room, and coincidentally, the manor.

    He exhaled, head resting on the door, before turning to take stock of the room he had landed in. It was a sunroom-turned-artist’s loft. The light of the room was golden and glittering, but there were paint smocks thrown over the armchairs, paint splattered over the floor, and easels set up all around. It wasn’t a large room, but it couldn’t be called small either. Nikolai turned to the nearest portrait. It was a portrait of a faerie, with gold skin and hair, and deep blue eyes. Though the painting was far from finished, he could tell that the style was quite Impressionist, with sloppy brush strokes. The faerie looked familiar, but Nikolai couldn’t place his finger on it. He did a spin, reveling in the warmth of the room. A flash of darkness caught his eye and he froze.

    There, on the floor, was the girl. The girl from the revel. She was kneeling on the floor, sketching something. Upon noticing him, she paused, and he stared. He quickly remembered who he was. A charming smirk, formed on his face. He looked the girl up and down, cocking his head. “Well, hello.” Nikolai smiled at her and crouched, his brows furrowing as he looked into her deep brown eyes. “Who, exactly, are you?”

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

Sugar and smoke rings.

[Talia Avedon]

Long nights and daydreams

Talia looked up when she heard footsteps. Alita brought in people sometimes; friends or relatives. Talia didn't appreciate it. It made her feel like a novelty-- a half mortal who could paint. Just another curiosity to be displayed.

Nonetheless, she was ready to smile, to stand up, to say she really wasn't ready to receive visitors right now. She was ready until she saw who it was.

She slammed shut her notebook and pinned it shut with a flat palm, watching him. He had already seen the portrait, but maybe if he didn't see her she could continue like nothing happened. Or at least pretend.

She could, and then he turned to her, and she realized there would be no pretending.

As he walked towards her, she found herself studying his eyes. They looked different now, haloed in sunlight. Was that green? Purple?

Watercolor eyes. She thought nonsensically. In watercolor, there were no clear lines. No drawn shapes. It was a world of potential. The real world was nothing like that. Even now, there was a line drawn between them as he crouched down at met her eyes. 

And then he asked her who she was, and she knew she couldn't answer the way she wanted to, which was to ask him to not move, to grab her pencils and her pastels and start drawing until it finally looked right. Start drawing until she had a piece of those watercolor eyes to keep.

She didn't want to answer. Her watercolor world was fragile-- anything might break it to pieces.

"Talia." she said, leaving off her last name. "My name is Talia." Somehow, in saying that, she could hear the pieces hit the ground. She could feel the illusion shatter. 

Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov
Outfit + Music

☽LIA☾ + PUNKI

[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Talia. Talia. Talia. Her name was Talia. It ran through his mind a thousand times. Every dream he’d ever had of her, every thought that had ever popped into his mind after he’d seen her at that revel, it all came flowing back, this time with a name. Nikolai thought quickly, his mind racing back to his language classes, where his tutor had given up and let him memorize whatever he wanted. At that point, Nikolai had only been able to flirt with and swear at the poor mortal woman, so, tired out, she’d given him free reign of her books, and his photographic mind had snatched up all the names and their meanings and stored them in the backlogs of his infinite memory. His mind raced, twisting, twining to find her. Talia. He knew it was there, he just had to conjure the picture in his mind. And then— he saw it. The characters showed up in his head, and he remembered. It was a name from the ancient mortal country of Greece.

    “Talia. The dew of God.” His eyes met hers again, and he could not bring himself to look away. “A fitting name for a girl like you.” It truly was a fitting name. Like dew shining on blades of grass, she—no, Talia—had illuminated his mind on those lonely nights, when all he had had was the memory of her face shining in the moonlight field, when all he had had was whatever dreams his mind could conjure up of her. She had been a constant, something he could always look forward to, even if he didn’t realize it at the time. Even through all of the lovers, the girls whose beds he’d warmed for the night, she appeared in his mind, over and over again, reminding him of all his iniquities. No matter how popular he’d be with people, no matter how many parties he hosted, how much money he had, or how much alcohol he drank, he always came up short. How could he ever look someone in the eyes and tell them he loved them? He could never be there for them, could never be what Talia was for him. His constant, his North Star.

    And yet, he thought he felt a little lick of the flame called hope. Hope that he could, actually be her constant. Nikolai’s mind wanted to go down the rabbit hole of the future, a future that could be theirs, but he quashed it, letting his eyes roam her smooth bronze skin before meeting her eyes again. He knew a couple of one-liners that might’ve made her blush, but they had mysteriously disappeared from his mind. Nikolai thought it would be better that way. Talia didn’t strike him as the type of girl who would be able to appreciate his pickup lines. In fact, Nikolai found that he was okay with not showing that side of himself to her. Instead, he’d show her the hidden side, the artistic side, the sad side, the hopelessly romantic side. Somehow, he had a feeling that she’d be able to appreciate that, at least. He couldn’t just gawk though, so he decided to share his name with her. A small intrusive voice told him to tell her his true name, but he shoved that away too. True names were dangerous, and he couldn’t trust her entirely. Yet. “I am Nikolai Aleksander Hugh-Sokolov, Crown Prince of the East Court. And I, well—” he paused. Why was he getting shy all of a sudden? Was that a flush he felt rising into his cheeks? No. Never. The prince smirked roguishly. “I have thought of you every night and every day since I saw you at the revel.”

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

Sugar and smoke rings.

[Talia Avedon]

Long nights and daydreams

Talia's eyes widened. Her first instinct was to argue with him. She hadn't even been there that long. So why did she know that he was telling the truth?

That revel felt like a dream. But that was a dream, what was this? This was an illusion-- the cruelest sort of glamour. The kind that felt like it might last.

Nothing ever did.


She didn't want to move. Her eyes too wide. His eyes too perfect. It was so quiet and still, and maybe if she didn't move, she could pretend that it would stay this way, that reality could be beautiful. 

Talia had lived life as a spectator. An observer. She was meant to be neutral, to capture the beauty of life without ever enjoying it. She was just another face in the background. Not even a part of the scenery. 

She couldn't help but want to break free from that. She knew she couldn't.

"People don't think about me." she said honestly. And they didn't. That was the point. She couldn't capture the truth of things without people acting as though she didn't exist. Especially in Faerie. Truth was a tricky enough thing to capture. "I'm sure you're thinking of someone else." And if he wasn't, he would be soon enough.

Truth wasn't just hard to capture. It hurt to hold on to. 

Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov
Outfit + Music

☽LIA☾ + PUNKI

[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Nikolai reeled back, confused. He felt a little bit hurt, that she didn’t believe him after he’d been so honest with her. It hadn’t been easy, and this was what he got in return? He let out a breath. Patience, Nikolai. His brows knit together, thinking. This was not going to be easy. He wasn’t used to girls like this. Girls who’d obviously been hurt. Whose trust had been destroyed. He was used to the airheads, the ones who lived to seek the next thrill, the next thing that would satisfy them until they were hungry again. Those girls lived in illusions. Talia did too, except the illusion she had lived in was one that constantly hurt her. Nikolai wanted to protect her from that.

    “I’m not.” He stated softly. It was half confession, half plea. He wanted her to believe him, to let him care for her. It was going to be hard, Nikolai realized, but he wanted to stick it out if it meant she’d like him back. “I know it was you. I don’t forget faces. I can’t.” Was he talking too much? Was he going to scare her? “Even if I could, I’d remember that feeling. It was like you were a magnet, drawing me to you.” Talia probably didn’t even realize what she’d done to him. He was going to change his ways, for her. She didn’t even know that. How could she? If he told her, she probably wouldn't believe him.

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

Sugar and smoke rings.

[Talia Avedon]

Long nights and daydreams

Talia watched the light flicker through the window, illuminating the air around them. Haloed in gold. Crowned in sunlight. She suspected it was really just meant for him. What could she do in the spotlight?

I'd make something beautiful. She thought, but she didn't know how. She was a painter first. She could sculpt. She could sew. But really, Talia was a painter. And though she had experienced so much beauty, it was never hers. She could never capture it. Beauty was fleeting, and sometimes it felt so false that she wondered how her fae blood allowed her to speak of it. 

She would make something beautiful, if she could just find an illusion without so many cracks in it.

Talia thought about how when you held something up to sunlight, you could see it's impurities. Even air. She thought about how in art, you removed those imperfections to lend a better view of the subject. Even realist painted with a filter. But there were no filters in real life. There were more rules than in art. But there were fewer filters.

She couldn't focus on the subject now. She was distracted by him. By his atmosphere. By how many rules of art he broke. Because he didn't throw shadows the way she expected him to. His hair looked more perfect under the light, not less. Nothing about this was a good painting. Everything about it was beautiful.

"Why should I trust you?' she asked softly, blinking. Her eyelashes brushed her cheekbones as she left her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn't even an accusation. She was just curious, enthralled by his confidence. Was that what it was like to have everything?

"The fae can't lie, but somehow, they do." Something her mother said to her time and time again. A reminder. A warning. Now she just said it like a fact. 

She wanted him to prove her wrong. Desperately. It frightened her. She just watched him carefully, trying not to smile. She understood her mistakes, now.

Nikolai was nothing like a painting. 

Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov
Outfit + Music

☽LIA☾ + PUNKI

[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Everything about this girl was beautiful. Her hair, her lips, her skin, even that sad, untrusting look in her eyes. He wanted to draw her close, hold her to his chest, and listen to whatever she wanted to tell him. She could talk about how much she wouldn’t trust him, and he’d listen. Nikolai would listen, he would tuck her hair behind her ear and tell her that it was all an illusion, an illusion of evil that someone had blinded her with. He’d tell her she was okay, she was safe, and nothing could hurt her if she was with him. He wondered what it had been like for her to have nothing, all this time.

    But he couldn’t do that. Not yet. Talia needed to trust him first, and that meant Nikolai would need patience. Patience and a lot of reformation to his playboy life. The drinking, the sleeping around, it had to stop. He would allow himself the small joy of smoking, though. With her help, he would beat the stereotype her mind had made for him, the illusion she thought she was living in. He met her eyes, trying to convey as much feeling into them as he could. “Because I’m not the type of person to be serious about my feelings. Well, not publicly.” His heart felt too deeply, though his brain had learned to block it all out, drowning himself in drinks and girls. “I feel, and I pretend I don’t. I’m the East Court’s heartbreaker prince. I built this reputation for myself when I was young and stupid, and you, for some reason, have given me the gumption to change.” He paused. “My only question is why? Or how?” The fae were tricky people. Everything had to be taken with a grain of salt. Usually that was enough to keep the bad ones away.

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

Sugar and smoke rings.

[Talia Avedon]

Long nights and daydreams

Talia blinked. "How should I know?" she asked. "Hold something up to the sunlight, and you can see all of its flaws." But she was not sunlight. Dust, rain. Something in the background. Something constant. Something unremarkable.

"It's just refocusing." she said, and she was annoyed, and she didn't know why. "Like the lens in a photograph. You've got to better grasp the subject. Better focus on it." She sighed. He probably didn't even know what a photograph was. She had only seen.. what were they called? Poloroids.

It was odd to her, that she was half-mortal, that no one would let her forget it, and yet she had never been home to the mortal world. She didn't understand why she was being punished for a piece of her heritage she wasn't even allowed to have. Stolen polaroids and smoke rings, and that was it. 

"What do you feel, then?" she asked. No answer was an answer. The fae couldn't lie. But they can't love either.


Her mother had taught her that. The fae had bottle-glass hearts. Easily broken, but they cut even easier. They moved on quickly. They didn't really care about anyone. "Everyone tells you they can't lie," she'd say to Talia, smoking a cigarette Talia couldn't even get near thanks to the iron in it. "Really, they can't love." 

Talia's life was that, emptiness and silence and dire warnings. Iron burns on her forearms from when her mother flicked ashes at her. She wasn't surprised when her mother left. Just surprised that she hadn't left sooner. 

Surprised that Talia still remembered her.

Talia had a glass heart too, and it bled easily. So she shut herself up with books and paintings. She didn't say what she was thinking. She didn't ask what anyone else was feeling. Because then they might ask her too. Then she might get too close, and she might get cut. 

Talia had asked him. 

Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov
Outfit + Music

☽LIA☾ + PUNKI

[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    He listened to her speak, letting her voice wash over him. She spoke in such a way that was both annoyed, and slightly defensive, but timid at the same time. But Nikolai could hear an undertone of curiosity too, and the warm tingle he felt in his heart at that fact spread from his chest all the way out to his fingers and toes. She wanted to know him! That had to count for something, didn’t it? “That may be true, but the beauty of the object is magnified. It outweighs the negatives.” he responded cautiously.

    He listened to her speak about refocusing, slightly confused. Nikolai knew what a photograph was, but he didn’t know what that had to do with refocusing. And what exactly was a lens? He watched her speak. “I feel a lot.” he paused, clearing his throat. That had come out more hoarsely than he had expected it to. “I feel a lot for you.” Another pause. Nikolai was trying to formulate a good answer for her. He didn’t know what he felt for her, in all honesty. It was like attraction, but on a deeper, more emotional level. He felt the same things he felt when he found a girl to be with for the night. But he never wanted to know those girls. He never wanted to listen to them talk for hours on end. Nikolai never wanted to know who they were. In Talia’s case, he felt like he was hanging on her every word, filing it away into his head so he could use it for future reference.

    “I feel like there is more to you than what meets the eye.” That’s what he decided to go with. It wasn’t a perfect response, but it was his best. Nikolai regarded her some more. Was he staring too much? It couldn’t be helped. Talia was simply too eye-catching. He glanced down at the papers on the floor, the figures that had been sketched. His eyes trailed up to her slender artist’s fingers and then— Nikolai almost gasped aloud— her arms. How had he not noticed before? Her brown arms were scarred, up and down from the forearms to the biceps. They looked like burn scars, he thought, and before he could stop himself he found that he was reaching over to touch them. “What,” he started, “are these?” He took her arm in his hands, examining, the scars shining like painful pearls in the light. “Who did this to you?” Nikolai met her eyes, brown on blue, concern on caution. “Did you do this?”

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

Sugar and smoke rings.

[Talia Avedon]

Long nights and daydreams

Talia wanted to laugh at everything he was saying. It was one more beauty that would never be hers. One more luxury she couldn't afford. 

Those scars on her arms were one more reminder. It would be better if I did them myself. She thought. But maybe it wouldn't. Some from a father. Some from a mother. Having done them herself was just one more person who was supposed to love her failing to. Just one more betrayal. 

She had never been loved before. She never even been worth a second thought-- having someone feel something for her was ridiculous. "How could you?" she asked. "You only saw me once." He had probably only thought about her once. Maybe twice. It was never more than that.

Never.

Talia pulled her arms back more out of instinct than anything. She didn't know how she was supposed to react. Part of her wanted to hide. Part of her wanted to flip her arms over, to show him the iron-cigarette burns on her forearms and say "I didn't do those either." Part of her wanted to tell him the whole story. 

She rubbed her arms. "Little ever outweighs the negatives." Was she reminding herself? Was she answering his first point? She wasn't sure. "I didn't do them myself. Maybe it would have been better." She looked away. It hurt to look at him. The fae had a way of taunting you with beauty, reminding you of everything you couldn't have. They were the sunlight that illuminated her flaws. His hands on her scars proved that.

And after all, little ever outweighed the negatives. 

Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov
Outfit + Music

☽LIA☾ + PUNKI

[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Nikolai chuckled. He had often asked himself the exact same question. It was those late nights on the roof, cigarette smoke clouding his vision of the stars, that he thought he was crazy for feeling what he felt for her. But it was unique, whatever the feeling was. That was what caught him, what nagged at him after he’d tried to dismiss the feeling. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt for any other girl. It was deep. It was strong. It made him think of a girl he’d once been with. He’d been young then, freshly out of school. The girl had only liked him for his money and his looks, and Nikolai had only liked her for her looks. Anything that had passed between them had been purely physical. Until it wasn’t. He’d allowed himself to think about more, to want more from her. And she had begun to reciprocate, whatever that deeper feeling had been. So he left her. It had hurt him, and her, and he felt bad, but he knew that they were not meant to be.

    Maybe it had been his subconscious, warning him to save his energy for when someone better came along. And here she was. Talia. And she didn’t even want him back. That had to be a good sign, right? He’d have to work hard to prove himself to her. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’ve thought about you more times than I’ve seen you.” he watched her, her tanned skin turning to bronze in the sunlight. A basic faerie, immortalized in the light like a deity in a painting. “Okay, maybe you have a point,” he conceded. “But it doesn’t have to make sense when the positives do outweigh the negatives.” Another pause as he thought. "Just like what I feel for you doesn't have to make sense either."
    His blue eyes turned back down to her arms. Nikolai couldn’t help but look up at her in shock. “Better? How would you hurting yourself be better?” His finger slid over the pearlescent mark, thinking about the pain she must have gone through to be subjected to such a thing. Burns were, in his humble opinion, the worst form of torture. Talia didn’t deserve this. Not many people, if any, did. “Who did this?” he asked again. “If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.” His brows furrowed. Nikolai might have been many bad things, but an abuser was not one of them. Sure, he once might have used a girl to keep him entertained for the night, but it was always mutual, always consensual. He’d never lay a hand on anyone in a harmful manner. “Whoever it was deserves to rot in hell.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe Talia had complicated feelings about it. Either way, he couldn’t take it back now. “You don’t deserve this. You deserve better.” You deserve me.

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

Sugar and smoke rings.

[Talia Avedon]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","Lost"]

[break]

Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov

722 Words

Music

all the words ig

[break][break]

LOng nights [break]

Daydreams

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Talia wanted to argue every point he was making. She wanted to tell him he was being ridiculous, that logic was the only way forward, that he couldn't just say things like that and expect her to be okay with it. But she didn't know why she would fight him. So he said he wanted her. Was her answer a no? [break][break]






"And if I don't want you?" Talia said. It was a real question. Part of her wasn't just apprehensive. She was scared. If he was convicted-- if he just had to have her-- what choice was left? He had said it without meaning to. He was a prince. She was no one. It wasn't like she could just walk away from this. [break][break]






Was she being ridiculous now, trying to argue? Should she be placating him? Using this situation. She could feel her thoughts spiraling away from her, but that question hung between them like a barrier. She didn't want to think that he was one of the one who would burn her. She just didn't know. [break][break]






"Why should I tell you?" she challenged. "What are you going to do, hunt down my mortal mother and drag her back here? Subject her to the world that broke her? Find my father and hold him accountable? There are a million other things and no one cared about a single one of them. I'm not the most important person he's hurt." [break][break]






And maybe that was the fear here. That Talia would be just like her mother, used and forgotten. That Talia would be just like her father-- washed-up and wasted like his protentional. Ruining the lives of her children or destroying any chance of having them. No happiness, no hope. She had never known it before, and now it was close. [break][break]






And that made this even more terrible. That she was hopeful. That she wanted to believe him, every word. That she wanted to hear what he was saying and say she wanted him and think that just because the fae couldn't lie meant they told the truth. But she knew so much better. [break][break]






Her mother talked, when she smoked. And she wasn't supposed to remember much from when she was young, but Talia remembered everything. She knew more than she should have then and she knew more than she should now. [break][break]






Her mother talked about the parties and the lights. She talked about how the fae's love meant nothing, how it didn't protect you from their unkindness or trickiness or anything at all. How they would forget you faster than they would choose you. How nothing was guaranteed. She would smoke and put the cigarettes out on Talia's arms, ignoring her when she cried. Eventually Talia stopped crying. Eventually Talia grew to hate the smell of smoke. She was almost sure she smelled it now. [break][break]






Maybe she was crazy. She kept questioning herself. Nothings she ever did was certain-- nothing was ever sure. Every decision was a calculation that she had little confidence in. And this-- him, his smile, the way he looked at her-- set her even more off balance. [break][break]






He looked like a painting. She kept thinking it. He was so lovely, but it wasn't that, it was that he looked like a painting. A watercolor. Talia loved watercolors because they were a space of potential. Anything could happen in a watercolor. Colors were blended and blended again, stringing together to tell a story. Talia was a watercolor girl-- unsure, full of potential, but she was still waiting on the story. Right now it was just burn scars and smoke screens. [break][break]






Talia stared at him, because there was so much wrong, and there was so much to say, and she honestly didn't know where to start. "Do you realize what you're saying?" she asked incredulously. "The privilege of just being able to stand there and say that. Do you think your aunt would let me waltz in to one of her teas and corner her nephew and tell him her deserves better?" She didn't know why she was so angry. It wasn't fair for her to be angry with him. Or it wasn't him she was angry with. It was everything and nothing. It was that she didn't deserve this and she couldn't quite find it in herself to believe it. [break][break]



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[Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov]

    Talia had a point, Nikolai had to admit that. He really hadn’t thought past this point, about whether or not she wanted him back. “I suppose I’d have to leave you to your own,” he answered solemnly. “I can’t force you to reciprocate what I feel for you, but I can try to convince you to give me a shot. If you’ll let me.” He hoped she’d allow him to convince her. Because with enough of his newfound respect for others, and a little bit of his old charm, she’d surely be able to like him back. He desperately wished there was a way to prove to her exactly how much she’d changed him, even in this short moment of them speaking. Talia might think she knew what kind of person he was, but she didn’t yet know the kind of person he was trying to be.

    Why did she have to turn on him? Why did she have to feel threatened by him? It made Nikolai feel frustrated, even though he knew all she needed was patience. But still, why was she being so difficult? How much had she been abused, to have to be this way? Talia was scarred, emotionally and physically, and Nikolai just wanted to draw stars around her scars, the physical ones, and the emotional ones. It was true that she deserved better, but getting her to agree would take a while. “I can’t do either of those things, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that your father hurt people is not a matter of how important the people he hurt were, but rather a matter of him hurting the people.” He recognized himself in her, seeing that her relationship with her father was not the best. “A person is a person. That alone is enough to make whatever he did a terrible thing. You have to understand that.”

    And now she was actually getting angry with him. What had he done? He didn’t need to be this patient with her, but he was. Why? Because he felt some flutter in his chest when he looked at her once? Nikolai gritted his teeth, trying to remain calm, trying to retain the patience he knew she needed. “No, she probably wouldn’t.” He paused, trying hard to formulate what he should say next. He needed to be careful, they were treading on uneven ground. “But I would. Maybe it’s because I’m crazy, maybe I’m actually on to something. But I know now that there is something in me that wants to care for you, something that already kind of cares about you. I can prove it to you just let me.” He sounded so desperate. Nikolai Hugh-Sokolove never got desperate. He’d never had to beg a girl to talk to him, never had to beg someone to pay attention to him. He definitely needed this. Needed to work for the one thing in his life that he had ever truly wanted.

    An idea struck him. “Listen, Talia, I’m having a party soon. It’s going to be big. It’s a yacht party. My father bought me a new boat and we have to christen it. I’d love it if you could be there.” He paused, gauging her reaction. Then his smile widened, shining bright against his golden complexion. “You would be my guest of honor.” Please let her say yes, he prayed. To whom, it didn’t matter. The fae were their own gods.

TAGS: Talia Avedon

★fai

Sugar and smoke rings.

[Talia Avedon]

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Nikolai Hugh-Sokolov

438 Words

Music

hehe darkling quote

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LOng nights [break]

Daydreams

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Talia paused. Let me. Let me. The choice was in her hands. She could say yes. She could say no. He wasn't going to make her. But this wasn't so much holding on to anything as it was letting go. She was terrified of letting go, but she couldn't hold on forever. [break][break]

"You don't... know me." she said. It spoke to too little. It spoke to too much.  [break][break]

He didn't know her. He didn't know what she had endured or what she deserved. He didn't know anything at all, but he also knew too much. [break][break]

A person is a person. "No. A person is a painting, a muse, a monster. All people are not the same. You..." She breathed out slowly, trying to decide how to say it. "You're a painting. I'm a painter. We aren't the same." [break][break]

They would never be the same. Statues were placed on a pedestal. Paintings were encased in glass. They weren't to be touch. They weren't to be had. They were set aside and set apart, for everyone to appreciate and no one to claim. [break][break]

And painters? Painters were the tortured artists, the perfect tragedy. They cut off their own ears or shot themselves or wasted away. She was a tragedy waiting to happen. She would insist on being a meaningful one. She would insist on dragging it out. [break][break]

The best way to drag it out was not to want. Certainly not to want what she couldn't have. That's what ruined you, in the end. That endless wanting. [break][break]

She had seen it in her mother. The hollow eyes, the way her mother sighed and ran her fingers over her dresses like they might be made of silk. The way her mother drank cheap wine like it was champagne and smoked cigarettes like a lady. The way her mother leaned towards shiny things like a magpie and got drunk on memories as much as anything else. It wasn't anyone leaving that ended her. It was the wanting. The wanting that carved her out until there was nothing left. [break][break]

Could she risk it? Say yes, risk it. Say no, rot in regret. It would have been easier if he had never come here. It would have been better if he wasn't so painfully beautiful. [break][break]

Talia closed her eyes, feeling the sun on her face. She wanted to stay like this. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to believe this wasn't some fluke or glitch.  [break][break]

"Okay." she said. She wanted to say more. [break][break]

But the problem with wanting was that it made you weak. The problem with wanting it that it carved you whole. [break][break]

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