Follow Sweet Levi pv Finished

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He’d seen her first in a dream. Of that, Levi was sure. To want something to the degree he wanted her was to will it into existence, and those that remained mere daydreams and fantasies were only that way because they were not desired with such vehemence. There was this chimerical quality to her, this ethereal texture she left in her wake, and it ignited an infinite need to dwell underneath each layer of opaline skin. No one knew suffocation until they were deprived of Santario, which made withered and crushed lungs look broad and filling, blackened ones run pure. To slowly sip and savor her essence embodied a perfect solitude, the sort that wrote your magnum opus at the cost of madness, greater than that of a hermit, greater than that of a dead man.

Pacing within this subterranean labyrinth, perhaps it was as close as he’d get to the dungeons Santario had devoured in a capsule, the elaborate gothic structure in her chest. His tongue met his bottom lip, a shaky muted inhale and exhale of the air she’d walked through seconds before. An eerie blue light radiated throughout the cold corridor, her halo’s soft emittance, and a mild dose of what the other side had to offer melted ruby over her lips. He could taste the bad situations that occurred between these barriers, a metallic flavor surging betwixt his teeth; a certain darkness had settled like a coat of dust in the corners, the deadly kind only bred by its social equivalent.

Her stare had settled on him, like precious gems revitalizing a rotted skull, and it was a feeling vastly different from the pins and needles on the back of your neck when you needed to turn around. ‘Feeling’ could not express the sensation, as it was far more than an experience, it was an epidemic within himself, an infectious craving that both killed and resurrected all the little things he was. Obsessive, cruel, lifeless, full. There was a raging burn on his forehead, a feverish chill zigzagging inside his veins, a sensation of swallowing his tongue and coughing it up again, this Hadean pressure behind his eyes trying to push the hazel monstrosities from their sockets. A glance up and their gazes would meet, and everything subsided in sudden submission.

There was nothing but, again, her honeyed seclusion. The Great Hall went thunderously quiet, Levi's hands wanted to jerk to his ears, and every ragdoll student collapsed from their place at the grand tables and kneeled to the floor. Noses to the ground and throats stripped of their vocal cords, the two were essentially alone, and a seraphic element tugged at the edge of her lips. A sweet, ephemeral half-smile of rich red, and there was a silent beckon for him to pursue her when in swift grace, she slipped between the heavy oaken doors. Gone as quickly as she'd come, the crowd returned with swelling chatter to their seats, but sympathy triumphed over the anger that swept across his shoulders. A pretty face was always wasting its time here.

"Santario?" His voice was barely a whisper and still, the formation of his mouth to each syllable was mesmeric. For a moment, he cursed himself for speaking, exposing his home in the model shadow she cast, but there was a second guess, a whim, a wish: she wanted him to be there.

Damp. The tremble in his breath rode in wavelengths down the hall, which pulsed as its sides in a throbbing motion that rippled to its cavernous end and back to him, dizzying. Ringed fingers ran over the grooves and prickly bumps of the stone wall, dominant palm pressed to the icy surface, and the boy was counting beneath his breath the steps to the narrow staircase from which he descended. The dungeons amplified her singing, phantasmal whistle tones drawing him deeper into the blackness, tethered by the strings of her voice. The last few inches of her cascading ebony hair disappeared around a corner, her song still finding him far away, filling his thoughts with watery obsession until they overflowed into his lungs, drowning him.

“Levi, I know you've been watching me. Your dedication is admirable but will eventually get you nowhere.”

But Santario, it got me everywhere. It got me here.

“Come here so we can talk; let us mend this distance you seem to keep.”

Her words were dulcet, beautiful, constructed of dreams and whatever fractured matter made up the wispy presence of souls. His heart banged against his chest, and a static screen filtered his vision. There was no control; Levi watched from an out-of-body perspective as he rounded that corner, his oneiric, shining trophy waiting, facing him, hoping for him. There was a sense of reality, somewhere, but above it were layers upon layers of fixated mania, of narcissism, the perfect concoction to create a soulless mimic of love-stricken naivety. “We can do that,” The lion was breathless, feeble, almost pleading with her to remain who she was now, to move no further and to a polished glass case in the front of his heart—no—back of his mind.

Interacting @Levi Drakos

Outfit Reducio

Here, she was not confined to the physical penitentiary of her body. It was less of the actuality was and more of a suggestion, a challenge to be conquered, and the barbed wire fence shredded at her sleeves when she outgrew it. Santario’s voice came from within the stone walls, muffled by sheets of cement yet still swirling in a narrow melodic tunnel. Her lips moved but the sound was far away, it was a weakening call as their tether stretched and tore, that between the shell of an eldritch being and the incomprehensible monstrosity it was. Just as the Slytherin girl settled in his crosshairs, her breath was leaden on his neck, front and back, whistling through his ruffled hair, slipping in the airy sleeves of his clothes. He swallowed and there wasn’t a single sound, as when she asked silence to settle between them, the bugs rolled onto their back, bystanders took a knee, and nature succumbed.

She extended her hand, giving him the illusion of choice. In theory he was able walk away at any moment, disappear down the corridor until the last ray of the eerie blue light shone and wilted upon him. She, the woman with the real choices, may listen to the dungeons drip and watch the walls begin to sag, or she could do what she was born to, and travel in a whisper through its discontent creaking, come alive again beneath his feet. Her domain. It was no coincidence that the only complexion this could do any favors was hers. She’d been here first, and the floor was constructed around her. There was one option and it was primeval, requiring no invitation, no French-accented incentive to lace their fingers into one entity.

Levi stepped forward, not knowing he’d done so until his shoes were behind him again. Three steps, the distance between them could be remedied by his arm’s span. The tunnel began to rotate, his lips parted and letting the warm air out. Her icy aura filled its place and encased his organs, and there was a burning electricity shooting mercilessly through his arm, willing him to raise his hand to hers. The dungeons were gone in that second, the two were suspended in a world unknown, a haven neither deserved or cared to earn. Scattered memories flickered before him, a brush against her praise the malice in her bloodline, and brief embrace that prompted the boy to spritz jasmine on his sheets.

She’d asked him, could they, and the answer was uncertain and destined all the same. Of course they could, but it wouldn’t look like anyone else’s. And he would never explain nor justify, force no endeavors to make himself a slave to love’s twisted sense of normalcy. To answer aloud would spoil it, their reality depended on a delusion that was weak, able to be shattered by a promise. So parted lips, no warmth left, but the declaration of frigid love was his palm grazing over hers before settling in her hand. Had there been a window in the dungeon, they’d have seen the blood pouring from restless skies outdoors, landscapes splattered scarlet, locusts casting wretched shadows with no sun as they soared. Crimson puddles were deepening in the dips and hills of the castle grounds, and mindless victims ate peacefully in the Great Hall.

No time to dawdle and drown. Santario had pulled him closer, Levi a willing ragdoll toward her whims. He was dragged left and right, knees unbearably weak supporting the weight of himself and his disaffection. His back pressed hard against the cave wall, an uncomfortable stickiness latching the fabric to his skin, and his wrist was pinned above his head. The boy’s other arm dangled limp, a black poison eating at his fingertips and sprawling upwards. Eye contact had never broken, shifting expressions between awe and something else, something resembling panic. Still, with all the means to pry himself away, he chose not to, rather sinking against the damp barricade and watching breathless, wordless, for if Levi had anything to say it would be the dying words of a man unhappy in his position. And he was. Happy. He had to be.

No attempt at evasion was made.

Interacting @Levi Drakos

Outfit Reducio