lives unled (analise)

[Dorian Northbow]

lives unled

[attr="class","box1a"] The classroom had cleared out sometime since, and though Dorian would normally use this time to read and prepare lessons, something other than his books was calling him. It really was a miracle that none of the students had discovered him and Analise yet—or, rather, that they hadn't started teasing and whispering about it. It would only be a matter of time if they, as he suspected, already knew.  He wound through the ivy-scaffolded halls, through slats of sunlight in the specific golden shade that autumn brought, down steps with dips worn into them from generations of footsteps, until he found himself at the sparring grounds. As there was no class going on at the time, the field was mostly empty, fenced in by trees and wildflowers, occupied only by Analise.  She made a dance of it, as she moved through her forms. Dorian's eyes traced the line of her hair as it flowed behind her like a flag, and he decided he had never been more grateful for an autumn breeze. The leaves seemed to dance with her, answering her moves, laying themselves beneath her feet. He leaned one shoulder against the nearest ruin of a wall and allowed himself a smile.  Annalise Lorelai Luce [newclass=.box1a]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #BBB9c3;[/newclass]

Music Word count: 204 Notes:

credit to Laura of Adox + SeaJem

[Annalise Lorelai Luce]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","Aster"]

[break]

Dorian Northbow

Words

Music

omg they are so cutee

[break][break]

We're in a snowglobe [break]

Dancing 'Round and 'Round

[break]

Annalise didn't pause. Didn't look up. She took a step back and did it again. And again. And again. [break][break]

She found that her training was a liminal space. A place of transition. A world where time slipped away, where clocks melted all over the canvas and onto her hands. She looked down. Her hands were slick. [break][break]

She was breathing hard. Sweating too. She didn't know how long she had been out here. Some piece of her resented the very need to practice. This steps were a piece of her. The better part of eighty years, and she would continue to have to do this, or she might fall behind. She had lived what mortals would consider a lifetime, and she wasn't even beginning to scratch the surface. [break][break]

The fae underestimated the mortals. How quickly this changed for them. How much they might achieve in only a few years. Mortals had no time to waste. It showed. [break][break]

But despite everything, despite her upbringing and her first love, she couldn't help but fall into the truly fae mistake of wasting time. Of losing it all together. She hated, a little bit, that it was something she could lose. It was times like these she desperately wished to be mortal. [break][break]

And then she looked up, and Dorian was standing there, and she didn't wish it so much anymore. Losing her parents was hard. Knowing she had to do this all alone was hard. But knowing that maybe, just maybe, she didn't-- that was a little easier. 

She smiled. He was smiling. Annalise was reminded that he had a lovely smile. [break][break]

She raised one hand. She waved.




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[Dorian Northbow]

lives unled

[attr="class","box1a"]In a gentle, elegant motion, Dorian pushed himself away from the wall and wandered over to Analise, uncut grass dragging over the polished toes of his shoes. She still had one hand raised in a wave. He put his own against it, curling his fingers closed over hers, drawing their joined hands down to rest at his side.  It was an unwise thing to do, perhaps, his girl being armed as she was, but Dorian trusted her. It had been an implicit thing, almost, he felt. Since their first meeting, he'd had no trouble laying himself and his safety in her hands—not that he wished for that to ever become necessary. He just had that security, should it happen.  "You've been working hard," he said, brushing a pearl of sweat away from her misted brow with his free thumb. "I don't know if that bodes well for this year's crop of students, or not." He gave her a gentle, clever smile, eyes finding hers.  There was so much in her eyes. Even after everything. There was so much life in her, body and soul.  "I don't know how you do it," he mused. "How you make it look like a dance." He tore his gaze away from her face to scan the field, briefly. "Though you're lacking your usual partner. Where is dear Hequet?" He would offer to substitute, but he labored under no delusions that she would prefer him to her frog.  Annalise Lorelai Luce [newclass=.box1a]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #BBB9c3;[/newclass]

Music Word count: 249 Notes:

credit to Laura of Adox + SeaJem

[Annalise Lorelai Luce]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","Aster"]

[break]

Dorian Northbow

321 words

Music

omg they are so cutee

[break][break]

We're in a snowglobe [break]

Dancing 'Round and 'Round

[break]

Annalise slid her hand across his so that their hands were parallel to the ground. She traced the lines of her palm without really answering him. It was nice, just to stand here.[break][break]

"Practice." she wrote on the back of her hand. It was a simple answer to a complicated question. She was a dancer. That was her history. And he should know all too well about how memories left stains. But Analise found she wasn't sorry for hers. [break][break]

She wrinkled her nose when he asked about her frog. Heqet is in her bottle." she signed. She wanted to cross her arms. She didn't want to drop his hand. [break][break]

It felt cruel, in a way, to lock her up. She knew that Heqet hated it. But that seemed like something she should have thought of before she started using Analise's desk for target practice. [break][break]

It really wasn't helpful. She told Dorian that Heqet was a smart frog. And Heqet was a smart frog. But apparently no frogs were above accidentally shooting their owner's desk.  Still. No frogs were above being locked in their bottle either. [break][break]

Analise wasn't sure what sort of frog Heqet was, either. She acted like a mortal poison dart frog. She had the bright colors and poisonous darts. But her poison seemed a little too strong, and she had lived a little too long. Frogs were affected by what they ate. So maybe eating magical bugs maybe Heqet magical. That or she did eat that faerie fruit she wasn't supposed to. [break][break]

Analise titled her head in an almost appraising manner. "You should practice with me." she signed. It was hard, signing with one hand. It didn't matter. [break][break]



She was trying not to smile. She was trying to be serious. But it made her laugh, thinking about him dancing. Thinking about having someone to dance with. Thinking about all the things she didn't have to do alone.

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[Dorian Northbow]

lives unled

[attr="class","box1a"] "Practice makes perfect, is what the mortals say," Dorian mused, his thumb tracing the pattern of the letters on the back of her hand. "Then I can see you have been practicing." He brought their joined hands to his lips, pressed a kiss to the word she'd traced there. The fragrance of something floral clung, as always, to her skin. As ephemeral as Annalise was, there were certain things about her that remained solid and unchanged, and Dorian would truly fear for any consistency in this world if she lost her scent.  He could feel the hand that was clasped in his flexing in motion with the other, forming its half of the signs against his skin as if he were blind. Well, he'd miss the sun through the trees and the stars in her eyes, but at least Dorian had the reassurance that if he ever lost his sight, he could still talk to her. But as long as his eyes worked just fine, he wouldn't mute or muffle her voice; pain him though it did, he gave her hand back. "As much as I like your touch, I like your voice better," he said, something gentle and velvet showing in his eyes.  She must have known, he thought, that the invitation wasn't one he'd ever care to refuse. Still, he could at least playact some resistance. "My mind may be clever, but my hands are not, dear. Perhaps lend me one of the students' blunted swords." He knew that sharing the things she knew and loved was Annalise's version of a gift, and it was one he'd accept gladly.  Annalise Lorelai Luce [newclass=.box1a]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #BBB9c3;[/newclass]

Music Word count: 275 Notes:

credit to Laura of Adox + SeaJem

[Annalise Lorelai Luce]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","Aster"]

[break]

Dorian Northbow

491 words

Music

omg they are so cutee

[break][break]

We're in a snowglobe [break]

Dancing 'Round and 'Round

[break]

Annalise envied him, in a way. He was so brilliant. He built her worlds out of words and she loved to view the palaces. But she also struggled just to say a few. She struggled existing in a world of words when she had so few. She had stories and worlds and lives inside her, but expressing them was exhausting, and sometimes she thought she would drown in trying to define herself. Even now, with him, she didn't have words for how she felt. Love was too complex and joy was too simple. She wanted to crystalize this moment. She wanted to save it. She wanted to have words for it. She knew she probably never would. [break][break]

"Never perfect," she signed, almost wistfully. The better part of an immortal life, and she knew she would never be perfect. She would always keep trying, though. Sometimes it felt more like maintenance than progress. Sometimes it felt impossible. She didn't give up.  [break][break]

It would almost horrible to achieve perfection. Then what? She was prima ballerina for the Paris Ballet Company, and now what could she do? She would keep dancing. She could always be better. But she might never feel good enough to go back. Surpassing herself was her greatest goal and greatest fear.  [break][break]

She found it curious. That he cared so much for her voice when no one else had. Everyone else cared first for what she could do. Not the stories she told. The fights she could win. The battles she could lead. The skills she had. The stories she had were not easily told.  [break][break]

For him she might try.   [break][break]

"You are very clever." she signed, almost teasingly. She spoke many languages, yet the Undersea form of sign was her favorite. It was the most expressive. She had lost count of how many Dorian knew. Far too many.  "But no swords. This is all bare hands." It was too early in the year to let her students pick up swords. It didn't matter what year they were. They started unarmed or they didn't start. If you couldn't do anything with a weapon, you couldn't do anything without them either.  [break][break]

Some of her philosophy came from being a dancer. A fair part of it came from the Undersea. But most of it was her own. Her own ideas. Her own narrative, in a way. It was how she had found her voice.   [break][break]

She walked around behind him. Normally, she would let her students try this first, but she wanted to hold him. She enjoyed the assurance that he was here, and he was real, and he wanted to be. She took his wrists, reaching from behind him, and pulled one arm back. She tapped his elbow to tell him to bend it, then straightened the other. Left arm bent, close to the body. Right arm extended, fingers curled. Her, holding his wrists. That was where they would start.  [break][break]



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[Dorian Northbow]

Title Here

[attr="class","box1a"] One of the things Dorian liked best about Annalise was that she was his by gentleness, by peace. As much as his family home mattered to him, he was still stained by the blood of necessity that kept it from his parents' uncaring hands. Anna was different. He liked that she wasn't bound by laws and loopholes, that she could make her own choices. He liked that she'd chosen him. He liked being able to choose her back.  He gave a soft half-smile at her sign—never perfect. It was her precision that made Anna so good at what she did. She loved details with an admirable passion. Still, he had to gaze fondly at her and note, "Perfect generally only means without flaws—and we can decide what is a flaw. I could say that flaws are the traits you do not have. Then you'd be perfect." The smile slipped askance. "Though I supposed you would refuse to agree."  Supporting her was easy. Loyalty was easy. It was considering himself that was the struggle. If Dorian had a fatal flaw, like the heroes he read about in his grandparents' library, it was his attachments, his loyal spirit. There was always the chance that, one day, Annalise would be wrong, or hurt someone, or fail. What would we say then? Would he be strong enough to side against her? Or would he remain in her thrall?  Annalise was a skilled fighter, but she wasn't controlling by any extent. It was Dorian who gave his heart sparingly but entirely.  "Bare hands?" he questioned with a lift of his brow. "I hope you don't expect me to touch you any way but gently, luna moth."  He didn't mind being held by her, like this. He liked the security of being the strong one, usually, but he also loved to learn. Here he was once again the student, learning by her patient hand. "Like this?" he questioned, setting his hands as she guided him.  Annalise Lorelai Luce [newclass=.box1a]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #BBB9c3;[/newclass]

Music Word count: 336 Notes:

credit to Laura of Adox + SeaJem

[Annalise Lorelai Luce]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","Aster"]

[break]

Dorian Northbow

589 words

Music

omg they are so cutee

[break][break]

We're in a snowglobe [break]

Dancing 'Round and 'Round

[break]

Annalise slit her eyes at him in mock annoyance. He was a pretty boy with pretty words, and she had never had words at all, only action. But wasn't that why they complimented each other? 

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She loved to rush into trouble and he avoided it at all costs. Whatever he had done before her, whatever he had been, she couldn't imagine Dorian being violence. It was contrary to his nature. It wasn't the way his soul was bent. It was what she was good at.


 

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That sounded distasteful. It made her sound ruthless. But she wasn't. She knew how to raise a sword, how to be the strongest in a room, and how to put it down. She knew how to find wonder in the little things. She had spent her life learning to be strong. Now she might learn to be gentle. 

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So she was gently with him, as she guided his hands, and she smiled at the fact that they were not callused, not bruised. His hands were the hands of an artist, of a creator, and he held her like a masterpiece. She would not have it any other way. It was her turn to treasure him now. 

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"You are a poet, cricket frog." She signed, brushing his skin with her movements. His neck, his arms. Her words were all over him. "I won't forget."  

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And his words were all over her, too. She might not have flaws in his eyes but in her own it was hard to see anything but. She liked his perspective. She liked borrowing his perspective. She wanted him to feel the way she did when he looked at her– like it was spring, like the sun had just come out, like the flowers were opening. Like new things were growing. Like something was beginning again. 

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He was her fresh slate, her chance to be who she might have been if she was raised in faerie. He was her chance to be gentle, to be kind, to be a creator. And what did she bring? A new way of looking at things. More than half the time, magic was all about finding it. She couldn’t prove it, since there were no glamors spoken and no wards cast, but the two of them together felt a lot like magic. 

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”You can go slowly.” she signed, moving in front of him so he could see her hands, making her motions deliberate and demonstrative. ”But you still must use some force.”




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Most thought that force came from speed, that momentum was all there was to strength. But if that was true, then how did frogs move so fast and vipers strike so quick? Strength was in deliberate action. Strength was in decision. Strength was in being ready. And this was a lesson she sought to teach every student. Even her poet was not different. Not in that respect.




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In the way he made her feel, though– she didn’t want to hide from him. She wanted to bask in the warmth.


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He was her fresh slate, her chance to be who she might have been if she was raised in faerie. He was her chance to be gentle, to be kind, to be a creator. And what did she bring? A new way of looking at things. More than half the time, magic was all about finding it. She couldn’t prove it, since there were no glamours spoken and no wards cast, but the two of them together felt a lot like magic. 

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[Dorian Northbow]

lives unled

[attr="class","box1a"] Dorian loved the way she spoke, that her words could kiss his eyes, that she could leave them all over his skin. He turned his head back to brush his lips over her cheek, speaking softly as he went. "Not a poet. Just a little frog you taught to sing." Imitation was the highest form of flattery, just another form of learning self-driven by the student, and he was learning from her constantly. It was just another facet of this to copy the parts of her language that he liked best.  Dorian watched Annalise as she circled in front of him, robbed of her touch but now able to see her. One thing they both knew well was that the best teachers were also good students, and often vice versa; could they help it if learning was their language, given the way they'd met and the lives they'd chosen? As they both learned kindness and peace, so foreign to the lives they'd known before, they shared this knowledge in pursuit of a happiness that could be both of theirs, a safe future they'd built together.  Domesticity was unusual for the fae, even the common folk. They were so easily bored, so changeable by nature. But Dorian couldn't imagine ever getting tired of her. The circle of her arms was as natural and necessary as sleep.  Build a home with me, he wanted to say. Whether it's bound by vows or knowledge needless of speech, cover my bed with your things. Mark my floors with your shadow. Leave your bowls and your chalices beside my basin and let me rinse them clean. It wasn't the right thing to say in the midst of a lesson on fighting, but he'd always been one to surrender too easily.  So he mimicked her hands. Force required intention. And hadn't he just been thinking that he loved the possibility of choice with her? He would choose to strike and then kiss the spot by way of an apology, each with equal certainty.  Annalise Lorelai Luce [newclass=.box1a]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #BBB9c3;[/newclass]

Music Word count: 338 Notes:

credit to Laura of Adox + SeaJem

[Annalise Lorelai Luce]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","Aster"]

[break]

Dorian Northbow

601 words

Music

omg they are so cutee

[break][break]

We're in a snowglobe [break]

Dancing 'Round and 'Round

[break]

Annalise knew a lot of feelings and she knew a lot of sounds, but she wasn't good with words. Usually she learned how to define them in another way, a way that made more sense. For her, love had never been a four letter word and had always been her mother's smile and her father's arms. It had always been her ballet shoes on a clean floor and fresh flowers. But now? It was shifting, like a kaleidoscope.

It was his smile, his laugh, the way he spoke to her like she was the only thing in the world. It was the look in his eyes like there was nowhere else he wanted to be and the spark he had when he had an idea. The other things were still there, but her definition was growing, and he was coming to encompass it, like the tide coming in, like finally coming home.

Violence was easy. To break was easy. She was skilled in the work of pain, in the art of war. But this, this was not easy. To hold something so important, something that could not be stashed or stored or defended. To find herself holding something that was so immaterial. [break][break]


What was it that he liked to say? "Mimicry is the best sort of flattery." She didn't tell him how much that helped her. She hadn't told him how much she used it to speak to those in her care that she wouldn't have understood otherwise. She still didn't understand them, not really, but she could pretend to be like them. [break][break]

It wasn't spring yet, but it wasn't cold either. She could see flowers growing around the columns. It was always artificially warm in the Academy, but nothing felt artificial when she was around him. The East Court had ruined her opinion of spring as a whole, but she knew that it was better than winter. Everything came out of hibernation. Then again, with this challenge to the throne, maybe it was better if some things stayed asleep. When their was turmoil in faerie, more thing woke up then was maybe safe to deal with. She could feel her sharpened stars around her shoulders and she could see them on her cloak. Dorian would not have to deal with them. She would. 
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She was not sorry for being violent, for being strong, because it meant other people didn't have to be. But she had to smile at his attempts. "You are not built for war," she signed, stopping him and fixing his hands. "I imagine next I will have to let you read to me." She wouldn't complain. She found the cadence of his voice soothing, natural. It felt like a ward against evil.
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He had begun now, and his form was impressive for someone so new but still poor against her. She couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face, like he was balancing some great weight against another. War was an art, not an experiment. Still laughing, she caught his wrist and flipped him, so that he landed on his back. Her knee was on his chest. Her hair had come undone, and it was flowing loose around her shoulders, damp from sweat. She had been laughing too much. She had to stop herself from flipping him too far. She couldn't help it. He was so lovely, and his eyes were shining even now. "My poet," she said, breathing in slowly. "I apologize. You were never suited for war." she continued, switching to sign. This was no insult. Her eyes were sparkling. She loved him for it. 
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[Dorian Northbow]

lives unled

[attr="class","box1a"]The strategist in Dorian was helpless in the undertow of Anna's gaze, but he knowingly and willingly gave himself over to the current. He laughed softly as she fixed his hands with pointed touches; Anna made war an art, and in that he wished to be her muse. "I may not be built for war, but all the better that I should learn," he said. He wore the specific smile that foretold an oncoming spout of mortal wisdom. "There is a mortal scholar who said that if a society separates its warriors from its scholars, it will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting done by fools. Do not allow me cowardice in your pity, darling."  He concentrated on holding the form in which she had set him, watching Annalise despite the full knowledge that she would overcome him regardless of his awareness or reflex. "I think that mortal scholar would approve of our bargain. Though you could not be a fool whether I read to you or not, and—oof." He was on his back then, and had never been happier to be in any position. The back of his raiment would be covered in dust and grass-stained, but that was currently the furthest thing from Dorian's mind. He inhaled against the pressure of Annalise's knee on his chest as if trying to breathe in the image of her, flooding his senses with the experience that she was. Her hair was brushing his cheek. He wanted to pull her down and bury his face in it. He wanted to fill his lungs with the scent of earth and foliage that adorned her skin like dewdrops or mist. He'd been trying to say something.  Ah. He remembered now. "And I will be a fool whether or not I learn to fight, as long as you continue to look at me that way." With a forest of light in her eyes. He loved her so powerfully that it seized his throat. He felt boundless with the expanse of it. "If your precious words call me a poet, luna moth, my humility is not worth denying them. So your poet I'll be."  Tags here [newclass=.box1a]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #BBB9c3;[/newclass]

Music Word count: Notes:

credit to Laura of Adox + SeaJem

[Annalise Lorelai Luce]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","Aster"]

[break]

Dorian Northbow

415 words

Music

omg they are so cutee

[break][break]

We're in a snowglobe [break]

Dancing 'Round and 'Round

[break]

Annalise just laughed. She had seen plenty of fools and more cowards and he could never be either. He was built for something, not greatness or grandeur but something she cared for much more. He was built to hold her. She fit into his hands like water. Loving him was like breathing. Not much was simple for her, but this was. He was simple.


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"Educate me in the love of the classics," she retorted, beaming, the words melting off of her like mist, as simple as a laugh. "I will offend all their expectations."


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She was holding him down easily, so easily. He was supposed to fight her and he never would. He was looking at her like she wasn't just the luna moth he called her, but like she was the moon itself. Like without her, the tides could not move and the world could not spin. It overwhelmed her and it made her giddy. She could feel her composure slipping already. If she had offended anyone's expectation it had been her own. But why had she thought she could stand this simply? It was no awful violence. It was something so much better. It was so easy to lose herself in him.


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She released him, feeling ridiculous and young again. She rolled onto her back next to him, their shoulders brushing. She wanted all of it, all of him. She wanted to get up and run away so he wouldn't see her blush. She wanted to bury her face in his shoulder until she stopped smiling. She was already laughing like a madman. 


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"Be a poet," she traced out on his arm. "I will protect you against anything that might threaten your muse. See the beauty in the weather and I will see the storm. If it is my lot to preserve you forever I will doubt it, because fate is never that kind."  



[break][break]


But didn't they offend the classics he revered? She did not care about brilliance or glory. She had trained to be strong and now she was. If he asked her to run away from all of it she would in an instant. They could flee to seaside cliffs and watch the sunset and she would never miss the battlefield. Those war-torn fields held nothing she couldn't find looking at him. There was no brilliance in honor that couldn't be outshone by the smell of his hair in the morning. She did not need glory when she had his luminescence. 



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[Dorian Northbow]

lives unled

[attr="class","box1a"]Dorian raised a hand, his eyes wide with wonder, pupils dilated as if to make them better receptacles for the image of her. He caressed her cheek and swept her hair back over her shoulder in a motion that was not only gentle but almost shy. "If we keep educating each other, I think we may become the wisest fae in the land, my love," he said.  He rolled over, laughing, and bundled her into his arms as he went until they tumbled to lay together in the grass. The scent of it would linger on them now, intermixed with whatever perfume had put a shine on her hair. Dorian carded his fingers through it and hummed, just to feel the vibrations reverberate through both of their chests. He imagined, for a moment, their ribs being interlinked, the two of them becoming one body in a way that carried so much more intimacy than that which the fae treated as another distraction.  He could not imagine treating Annalise casually. Or thinking of her that way.  Though it did make sense, the similarities between casual and casualty.  "Let's go somewhere you don't have to protect me, luna moth," he murmured, his hands curling around her back as if he could somehow draw her closer. Perhaps as if he could find a way to knit their bones.  Annalise Lorelai Luce [newclass=.box1a]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box1a::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #BBB9c3;[/newclass]

Music Word count: 227 Notes:

credit to Laura of Adox + SeaJem