what did you do? ( Abe to Hope, maybe? If you want! // cabbxges-and-kings )

There was romance in the unknown, but once a place had been discovered and cataloged and mapped, it was diminished, just another dusty fact in a book, sapped of mystery. So maybe it was better to leave a few spots on the map blank. To let the world keep a little of its magic, rather than forcing it to divulge every last secret. Maybe it was better, now and then, to wonder. To some it might’ve seemed callous, the way she boxed up her pain and set it aside. Yet, she had a heart the size of France, and the lucky few whom she loved with it were loved with every square inch—but its size made it dangerous, too. If she let it feel everything, she’d be wrecked. So she had to tame it, shush it, shut it up. Float the worst pains off to an island that was quickly filling with them, where she would go to live one day. Every person has the power to change their fate if they are brave enough to fight for what they desire more than anything. Not everyone gets a true ending. There are two types of endings because most people give up at the part of the story where things are the worst, where the situation feels hopeless. But that’s when hope is needed most. only those who persevere can find their true ending.

The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human.Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfectionsBut there's something about the darkness, the stillness of this hour, I think, that creates a language of its own. There's a strange kind of freedom in the dark; a terrifying vulnerability we allow ourselves at exactly the wrong moment, tricked by the darkness into thinking it will keep our secrets. Books are easily destroyed. But words will live as long as people can remember them. Words are such unpredictable creatures.No gun, no sword, no army or king will ever be more powerful than a sentence. Swords may cut and kill, but words will stab and stay, burying themselves in our bones to become corpses we carry into the future, all the time digging and failing to rip their skeletons from our flesh. And the pair of them are quotation marks, inverted and upside down, clinging to one another at the end of this life sentence. Trapped by lives they did not choose. The heiress's thoughts attempting to kill time as her pickpocket blue orbs trampled over his features and minutes.Killing time isn't as difficult as it sounds.You can shoot a hundred numbers through the chest and watch them bleed decimal points in the palm of your hand. You can rip the numbers off a clock and watch the hour hand tick tick tick its final tock just before you fall asleep. You can suffocate seconds just by holding your breath. And the Mikealson girl had been murdering minutes for hours and no one seems to mind.

And she had fallen for him growing up. So hard. She had hit the ground. Gone right through it. Never in her life had she felt this. Nothing like this. the auburn haired girl had felt shame and cowardice, weakness and strength. She'd known terror and indifference, self-hate and general disgust. Seen things that cannot be unseen.And yet she had known nothing like this terrible, horrible, paralyzing feeling. She had felt crippled. Desperate and out of control. Love is a heartless bastard. Arrogant. Overconfident. Vain. Impossible. She hated the way he refused to leave her alone, how he took her insults the same way other boys might take a compliment, and that his interest in her was clearly only part of his role. And yet she could never seem to push him away. This was why love was so dangerous. Love turn the whole world into a garden, so beguiling it was easy to forget that rose petals were as ephemeral as feelings, eventually they would wilt and die, leaving nothing but the thorns. He's never stared at her like this before. Sometimes he gazed at her as if he wanted to be her undoing, but just then it was as if he wanted her to undo him. What he had seen was unknown to her though she found scrunching the weather worn paper meant to be sent to the rebellions courier. Just because her Grandfather ,who was insanely abusive, had been a strong proponent for the British occupation of the colonies, did not make her a torrie. The cabbage farmer would need a decoder to fully understand what was written in the paper though she doubted that two am discussions in firelight while the house was silent could be easily explained away. A manicured eyebrow framed the ocean blue of her eyes as they settled further. Her usual sarcasm making its way across her features and slipping the breakable heart back behind the exoskeleton. The unruly organ beat like an animal against the cage of her chest. Her heart was still a little heavy, but she'd decided carrying it around would only maker her stronger. He smelled of magic and heartbreak, and something about the combination made her think that despite what he claimed, he wanted to be her hero.

"You gave me quite the fright, Abe. You'd think I would be standing over a body by the countenance of that lovely velvety voice of yours. As a dear friend, if you have an accusation, go ahead and make it. This is tough times for all of us. It is the measure of a man by what he does with the knowledge he has factual or not. I think highly enough of you to believe in your ability to see the world and people around you in the brightest of hues. Its already bad enough for you to see a lady in her dressing gown in the middle of the night. Especially when you know how soft their lips are."

@cabbxges-and-kings