ineffable
outfit
⋆“ɪ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇ, ʀᴇʟɪɢɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ”⋆
Low in the horizon— the setting sun spilled its color onto the great lake, turning the water a fiery orange hue. Around the albino, the swaying of trees swayed to the whisper of the wind in a gentle choreography. Their rustling a chorus to the sound of rushing water. Beneath a solitary myrtle tree, Azzure smoothed out a picnic blanket and sank down, letting the golden glow of the sun cast over her as she basked in the serene atmosphere.
At her right lay an amateur bouquet of flowers Azzure had picked just earlier this morning and strewn together, tied neatly with twine she had found while rummaging through the drawers in the Gryffindor common room. The bouquet itself wasn’t loud or dramatic. Azzure just picked whatever felt right–– and before she knew it, Azz had gathered flowers that looked like her quiet thoughts made visible. White bulbous flowers spoke the words she couldn't say, and small blue petals showed the gentle longing that filled her heart. To her left was a small picnic basket[/u] she had stolen her first week in Hogwarts, but she never had a use for it till now. In the weaved basket was a container of macarons she had rushed to bake 30 minutes earlier, and a small wrapped charcuterie board she had brought from her home in Wales.
The albino herself couldn’t quite place what had possessed her to spend her whole morning running around, pulling together flowers, cooking, baking, jumping off the walls preparing for tonight. But in truth, when Violence had asked her if they could meet up to talk, Azzure felt an inexplicable sense of worry wash over her–– one that tugged at her heart, compelling Azz to do all this in the vague hope that it would be able to cheer Violence up.
Although Azz didn’t know what Vi wanted to talk about, Azzure knew that she wanted to be there for Violence when she needed her. It was an inexplicable pull, something deeper than what she had any right to feel for someone she’d only just met. Still, she felt it in her soul—an ache settling in her chest at the thought that something might be troubling Violence.
But warmth never lasted long. Somewhere in the back of her mind the voice of her cousin stirred–– soft at first, but unmistakable. 'You never think about anyone but yourself––' Shiori's words dug into her gut, her throat going dry at the thought. 'Did it ever cross your mind that everything you're doing hurts people? you're a disease, a rotting mold that infests everything it touches. When it comes to it, you're nothing more than a selfish, insolent asshole.’
Azzure grit her teeth. Her nails dug into her palm as she blinked back the memory. “Focus, Azz. You’re here for Violence.” Azzure murmured underneath her breath. But Shiori’s words clung to her like a ghost, a ghastly whisper in her ears that lingered in her mind like shackles. And despite herself, Azzure couldn't help but wonder if maybe her cousin was right.
The thought hollowed her. Her breath snagged like someone had wrapped barbed wire around her lungs. “No.” She spoke, shaking the thought away. She wanted to be better. Needed to be better–– if not for herself, then for Violence. She didn’t deserve to receive the blunt end of the ruin she carried.For her, Azzure would claw at her heart, regenerate her skin to hollow out space for love.
Then, cutting through the haze of her thoughts, a familiar voice rose.
“Azz?”
Azzure’s head snapped towards the sound of the voice–– only to see Violence.
Azzure’s breath stilled, the world narrowing around Violence. She felt her cheeks turning hot in a way that was foreign, but not unwelcome. ‘What the hell is happening to me?’ she wondered, feeling a stupid smile tug at her lips before she could stop it. She didn’t even know what she was smiling for. Just seeing Violence was enough. For a moment, nothign else existed.
“Hi! You look…” Words collided in her head—gorgeous, stunning, beautiful—none of them feeling big enough. 'Fuck, just say something Azzure!' “I can’t believe your real, for a moment there I thought I was seeing an angel.” Her heart hammered in her chest–– reckless, loud. “You’re gorgeous, Vi. I- can I call you that?”
Azzure spoke as she shifted to give Violence space to sit next to her on the picnic blanket. The sunset unfurled above them in slow, melting strokes of orange and gold, bathing the world in a haze that felt almost unreal. Its glow caught in Violence’s eyes—deep blue softened by twilight. It was as if the world was just giving her a moment to breathe. didn’t fully understand the warmth blooming in her chest, this soft ache shaped like longing. But in that dream-lit stillness, the steady beating of her heart stood like a wall against the angst that filled her soul.
Just then, Azzure’s hand brushed against the bundle of flowers at her side. ‘Oh. Right. The bouquet.' She thought to herself and suddenly it felt ridiculous to keep it hidden. She cleared her throat, sitting up a little straighter, with a nervous inhale, she pulled it forward.
“Oh—uh, before I forget. These are, um—these are for you.” She blurted, holding the bouquet a bit too sharply between them. Azzure winced at herself, soft laughter bubbling in her chest in an attempt to still the anxiety pacing in her heart.
“I just… thought you’d like them. They were pretty, and you were the first person I thought of.” Azzure was in the middle of speaking when her eyes drifted to the picnic basket. ‘Oh, gods, I brought too much.’ “—um,” she added, fumbling with the basket beside her, “I didn’t know if you likes sweet or savory so…”
She lifted a small box, cheeks warming.“I made macarons. I may or may not have rushed to make them… but they taste fine, I swear!” Then she pulled out a tiny charcuterie board—clearly meant for two. “I may have stolen this one from my home back in Wales.” Azz added, her voice dropping to a guilty whisper. “I mean… my parents weren’t eating it anyway. I thought… maybe we could share?” Azzure spoke, her words twinged with hopefulness.
In this moment, the world felt impossibly tender. The air was warm, the breeze gentle, and it was as if the universe itself had leaned in and whispered, here—rest a little. And as the sun set over the horizon, Azzure knew that she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.
ReducioWord Count: 1102
This is an RP with: @Violence Bloodthorn
Mentioning: @Shiori Kaito
OOC Notes: This thread takes place during Violence and Azzure's first year.
ineffable
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| x | date and time: 2nd of April, 2025; 8:00 pm location: By the lake mentions: @Azzure Solace speech 𓍼 thoughts |
◦ 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 ◦
XX𝕴t was the thirty first day of March. Violence had just gotten out of a class and had spotted the albino guy from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. To say that Violence had decided to walk over to him and talk would have been wrong. She was, actually, pushed towards him by Avina and had no choice but to make conversation since she had already been spotted. In the midst of nervous smiles and a few bursts of laughter, she had been able to set up a date to meet. Well, that wasn’t wrong, right? They had become friends that day in the DADA class and friends met and hung out with each other. How bad could this be, right?
Except now that the planned date had arrived, Violence was nervous. She had attended her classes and hadn’t seen Azzure anywhere. Half of her was fully expecting him to bail. Why would he go out with her, even if just to hang out as friends? But then again, why wouldn’t he? That day in the classroom had been pretty decent. She’d even go as far as to say that she had enjoyed with him. So there was no reason for him to bail. All these thoughts ran through her head as she paced up and down her dormitory.
Avina lay on her stomach, feet propped up in the air as she smiled cheekily at her. Violence looked at her and could instantly feel a shade of red rise up to her cheeks. “Oh please, stop it. You are responsible for this, so now come on, help me choose an outfit.” She swiftly spun on her toes and made her way to her wardrobe. Her body jerked suddenly as she stopped, “Wait, what do you think his favourite colour is? Do you think I should wear white? It would match his eyes, right? And hair, too. Or do I wear a darker shade? We did plan on meeting at eight and the sun will have dipped till then. Dark colours won’t be seen. I should definitely wear white. Yeah I’m wearing white.” She could feel Avina’s burning gaze at the back of her neck. She wouldn’t have been surprised if she turned back around to see Avina looking at her wide-eyed, jaw-dropped. Violence Bloodthorn did not ramble. And Violence Bloodthorn definitely did not match her outfits to any guy.
She shrugged, a shiver running down her spine, as she opened her wardrobe and started sifting through the clothes. She would wear a dress, that was for sure. Again, her thoughts became too loud in her head to ignore. If she wore white, and the dress got dirty, her mom would definitely kill her. And if she wore a dress, the bugs that buzzed in the night-time would definitely feast on her blood. Sighing, she decided she would wear something red. Red was her colour, she would feel confident in it. A red top, maybe? About half an hour later, she walked out of the bathroom, wearing a black tank top with a red cardigan over it. Clad in grey jeans and red sneakers that matched her cardigan, she took her red purse and looked at herself in the mirror. Satisfied with how she looked, she gave a small huff and looked at the time. 7:00 pm?! How had she not noticed the time even once? What was she to do now, for one whole hour?
Violence’s eyes sparkled as she decided to make something for Azzure. Violence shared her dormitory only with Avina and Avina’s bed was propped up beside hers. Both of them had a wall next to their beds- Violence to the left, Avina to the right. So they got the wardrobes in front of the room and also one near their beds. She quickly pulled out her art supplies from the wardrobe near her bed. A small painting would barely take an hour. She started painting, her canvas settled on an easel as shades of red, orange and pink covering the initial white. Some time later, finally the painting was done. She looked back at the canvas, a pretty sunset staring back at her. Hoping Azzure would be satisfied with it, she put the canvas in her bag after making sure the paint had dried. She glanced at the clock and a gasp left her mouth. She was already fifteen minutes late and to get to the lake would take her an extra ten minutes, at least. And that was considering the stairs were working in her favour.
She grabbed her bag and all but ran out of the room and was halfway across the corridor before realising she had to go the other way. ‘Merlin, what is it about this guy that makes me completely lose track of everything all at once? Fuck fuck fuck, please don’t be there already.’ Huffing and panting, she finally reached the Second floor before the stairs that were taking her to the floor below decided to move. ‘NO NO NO! Oh Merlin why must you subject me to this torture?’ Violence was extremely close to breaking down and she would have if only she didn’t have any make-up on her face. She definitely did not want Azzure to see her with streaks of black running down her face. So she blinked back her tears, telling herself it would be fine. After all, he really wouldn’t mind if she was some ten minutes late, right?
After finally making her way out of the castle and through the grounds, she found Azzure sitting in a quiet spot where not many people wandered. Once things were finally clear enough for Violence to make sense of, she stopped dead in her tracks. The sight in front of her made her gasp, it was a proper picnic. She could definitely spot a picnic basket on a blanket spread quite neatly on the ground. The Welsh boy was sitting, back facing Violence. He seemed to be looking out towards where the sun had just dipped. Vi couldn’t help but admire him. The way the light struck his hair. The small smile that played on his face, or maybe that was just the serenity. He looked pretty. Violence couldn’t help but smile as she walked towards him.
“Azz?” She finally spoke up, deciding she would rather not be assumed more late than she already had been. Before she could provide an explanation for her tardiness, Azzure spoke up. His voice, God. What was it about this man’s voice that made her extremely hot and giddy? The raspiness, the stuttering at seeing her. “I can’t believe you're real, for a moment there I thought I was seeing an angel.” She blushed, a tiny giggle escaping her lips before she could stop it. She couldn’t help but shake her head. “Are you always this flirty with girls you bring to the lake?” She chuckled, hoping to set a light, playful mood. “Thank you! And, yes of course you can call me that, I don’t mind! I hope you don’t mind me calling you Azz? And by the way, all of this looks amazing. I can't believe ou set all this up by yourself!”
Violence settled next to Azzure, looking at the sky in front of her. The way her heart thudded against her ribcage, she was sure Azzure could hear it. Just the way Violence herself could. Her emotions were scattered across her organs. Anxiety pumped its way into her bloodstream from her stomach, happiness bloomed in her chest while fear originated from her kidneys. One could almost call Violence a figure of stone with the way she sat so still. She thought the moment was fragile. Perfect, but fragile. One breath out of order, one twitch out of place and it would shatter into a million pieces. She could feel Azzure’s gaze at her, she knew he was staring. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. She just knew she felt goosebumps rising on her arms. How did one man have such an effect on her? Was she completely crazy for being so affected by a man she was meeting for just the second time?
Before she could over-analyze the thought, however, Azzure spoke up again. His voice never failed to enchant Violence, but this time she was determined to focus on what he was saying, not how he was saying it. Her eyebrows raised as she watched Azzure pull out a bouquet of pretty flowers from behind her. Blue and white flowers were wrapped loosely with a string. Normally, Violence could have named the flowers in a jiffy. Now, she was way too overwhelmed by the thought that somebody had decided to pick flowers and actually tie them into a bouquet for her to process anything else. A soft ringing buzzed in her ears but it was not the irritating kind. It just made Violence deaf to the sounds of the world, while her ears decided to focus on Azzure. His voice, his breath, the little sounds of him shifting his hands. It all mesmerized Violence in a way nothing had ever managed to.
In all honesty, Violence preferred savoury over sweet. Yes, she liked cakes and pastries and brownies. But she would always eat something spicy or sour to satisfy her taste buds. But if Azzure asked her to leave savoury and completely thrive off of sweets, she would. That was how much this boy had enraptured her. She knew it was stupid of her. Naive, even. But she couldn’t help it. He was kind and caring. That much she had figured in the Dark Arts classroom. And this side of him, the sweet, romantic side had made her fall for him. She was honestly surprised when she had learnt that he had no date to the Spring ball. Of course, that meant that they could go together, but how in heaven, did a boy this gorgeous not have a date? Telling herself that she wasn’t to think about such trivial matters, she shrugged the thought and craned her neck to look at Azzure completely.
So when Azzure was explaining how he made the macaroons, she chuckled, cutting him off, “I trust they taste fine, Azz! Stop over-explaining yourself, I have faith in you.” She gave him a small smile as she inched her palm forward to cover hers. It was involuntary, but meaningful and she didn’t pull her hand back when she realised what she had just done. If Azzure was not comfortable with it, he could just pull it back. “The board looks really pretty. Did you cut all these fruits by yourself? You’re clearly a master! I can never cut them the exact same widht and then they end up looking wonky.”
As the night progressed, Violence felt impossibly at ease. The pending homework, the letter she had to send home, the curfew, nothing seemed to bother her. They’d be back in time, of course. She had half a mind to just lean into his arms and cuddle, but she knew that wouldn’t be the best thing to do. So, although the silence felt comfortable rather than awkward, she decided to break it. “Tell me something about yourself. I know you are in Gryffindor, and you’re the same year as me. What is your favourite subject? I personally love potions. There’s just something extremely enchanting about brewing something. Watching it slowly take the right colour and the perfect texture. It’s amazing. I think part of the reason I love potions so much is because my mother was a potioneer. You might have heard of her, Artemis Bloodthorn? So I have grown up watching her brew and brew and I have most of the basic potion’s recipes learnt by heart. Hogwarts still manages to teach me more.” Her eyes darted to Azzure before widening. “Fuck, did I ramble again? Shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t usually do this, I don’t know how this- I should just shut up.”
A deep red rose to her cheeks, and before she could embarrass herself further, she zipped her lips shut. Hopefully, Azzure would not judge her. Or maybe he would, maybe he had judged other girls and that is why he did not have a date to the ball. Maybe Violence would also end up like them, a discarded idea. Once attractive, now annoying. She sighed, she knew Azzure would get up and walk out of the place in a minute, at most, giving her some lame excuse about homework. Her head hung low as she stared at the patterns on the blanket. There was nothing more she could ruin now, could she?
𓍼
| XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX | wc: 2,122 notes: permission given by Azzure's writer to use he/him as pronouns for Azz outfit: 𓍼 painting: 𓍼 | x |
