juniberries: (armour; ey gurl)
princess "let's get in formation" allura ([personal profile] juniberries) wrote2018-06-10 11:20 pm

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"Greetings, this is the inbox of Princess Allura. While I am grateful that you have reached out to me, I unfortunately cannot answer you directly at the moment. But if you leave a message and wait a tick, I will surely get back to you!"
unpatriarchal: (048.)

[personal profile] unpatriarchal 2019-02-13 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[ resting his hand against her heart, really, is where he stops listening to her.

it's not that he's uninterested, really. he is, in every word she has to say, in every opportunity she gives him to better herself. but it's the act of trust, in allowing him in her space, in allowing his hand to be so close to her chest, to her neck, to vulnerable spaces where he could easily do her harm, that causes the weight to triple in his chest. she could say anything to him, and he would listen to her, but showing him that she is truly unafraid of him, and what he is, is what actually catches his attention.

every act of kindness shown toward him has been some level of manipulation. every moment haggar defended him, encouraged him to come back to the throne, begged him to take it back once zarkon fell ill . . . for what? to use him as a puppet, the same as zarkon? his mother and father never cared for him, because if they had, they would have let the war die, and raised their son in peace. but instead, both fell to their own hubris, and allowed lotor to suffer the consequences of their actions.

but allura, her kindness toward him was not manipulative. she genuinely believed in him, and that was a pill that was hard to swallow. and he knows, that having that trust and love ripped away from him, is something unbearable that he couldn't stand to take.

for the first time, he's started to piece together, what caused him to fall apart. he had an ounce of happiness, for the first time in his life, and it was ripped away. it would be enough to cause anyone to go mad. ]


Why do you have such faith in me?

[ it's said quietly. not moving away from her, or disagreeing with what she has to say. but an insistence on truth. ]
unpatriarchal: (064.)

[personal profile] unpatriarchal 2019-02-18 11:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ i always have faith in those that i love.

a derisive laugh almost escapes his throat, before he has the common sense to bite it back. love. love is what got him into this mess to begin with. allowing himself to be open and honest with allura had put him into a position of vulnerability, which apparently led to his demise . . . in addition to stepping down the wrong path to begin with.

he should have never returned to the empire. he should have remained isolated, working in the resistance, to usurp zarkon from the throne. he should have never created the colonies . . . or, if he had, he should have never tread down the path that he did. it looked so absurdly stupid and selfish, now, in reflection . . .

since when had love become necessary, to operate in this world? since he had met allura, and since allura was taken away. and while lotor wants to be snappish, and tell her to do away with her manipulative nonsense, he can't bring himself to do it, because he knows that she speaks the truth. she is too kind to do otherwise. ]


. . . I cannot say the same.

[ finally, and he slowly detaches his hand from hers. but he does add a quiet addendum, and the slightest ghost of an attempt of a smile: ]

Present company excluded, of course; I have the utmost faith in you, Allura. But extending that faith, and love, to anyone else . . .

[ he exhales slowly, and folds his arms over his chest, an anxious maneuver, but he has to at least try. ]

At the risk of sounding pathetic, love has not been present in my life for tens of thousands of years, and I hardly want to make room for it now when every other attempt at showing kindness has ruined lives.
unpatriarchal: (068.)

[personal profile] unpatriarchal 2019-02-19 09:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Matters to whom?

[ it's not meant to be argumentative, but it almost comes out that way; a defensive tilt to his tone, as he responds. and he does not pull away from her touch, but there is a definite tension in his being, as he talks. delving into this is uncomfortable, and there's an odd tightness in his chest, as he continues. ]

Whatever comes to pass here cannot be brought back to our universe, Allura. You know, just as well as I do, what tampering with the Rift entails. What the void between the worlds does to people. What quintessence can to do a person's mind, if they are exposed to too much of it.

[ his words are careful, deliberate, but lotor does not need to provide examples for her to know who he is talking about. ]

My existence as myself is over, in our world. Regardless of whether or not I live, there is no coming back from what becomes me. And if I can go mad from overexposure to the void, then anyone can. I was born from it.

[ after all, honerva was pregnant with him, when she wandered into the rift. he absorbed the energy too, which is why (likely, anyway) he has lived as long as he has. but given she keeps pressing the point, lotor will be honest with her, and says (not quite as bluntly as he wants): ]

What hope is there in a hopeless situation? I am dead, and this is stasis. It may as well be a prison.
Edited 2019-02-19 21:31 (UTC)
unpatriarchal: (058.)

[personal profile] unpatriarchal 2019-02-25 08:56 pm (UTC)(link)
[ he's about to move her hands away, as her hand cups his cheek, and an odd lump in his throat forms at her fingers gently brushing against where his altean markings would be, were they back in oriande. should be, lotor thinks bitterly to himself, but that portion of his heritage has long been withheld, from him. he was not worthy then, and he was not worthy now. whatever was to become of his destiny was thwarted -- by zarkon, by haggar, by voltron, and (perhaps most agonizingly) by himself. he was meant to devolve into madness, just like his forefathers and foremothers before him, and there was nothing to be done about that except accept it.

and he had tried to accept it, he had. but it was hard, when the other members of voltron were here. tiptoeing around the truth. out of any of them, lotor only felt vaguely comfortable speaking to shiro, and even that had ended in a spiteful refusal to speak from lotor, to a man who likely was just trying to help. just like allura is trying to help, and just like with shiro, lotor is ready to bite, rather than accept the help. what did accepting help, and relying on others, ever do for him? it ended in ruin, just like this would end in ruin, and entertaining a stupid fantasy of happiness was only going to devastate him. again.

but then allura rests against him, and lotor is almost about to roll his eyes and tell her that he would rather face the demons of oriande again than receive a hug out of pity when her lips find his.

there's a split second of stillness, of freezing, as her mouth moves against his . . . and lotor responds in kind, inhaling briefly at the contact, an arm looping around her waist. it's familiar, and comforting, and remarkably thrilling . . . given their falling out, and her words to him, and his words to her, and their tiptoeing around obvious feelings and resentments and --

. . . and then it's over, leaving lotor feeling the need for more the moment allura pulls away, though her hand is still at his neck, and his arms shift, his hands settling easily at her hips. and his mouth opens, ready to deliver a retort purposefully designed to prove her wrong when he realizes that he has been beat.

and, reluctantly (with his cheeks tinging a slightly darker shade of purple, much to his frustration), he responds: ]


No.

[ UGH ]
unpatriarchal: (026.)

[personal profile] unpatriarchal 2019-02-27 03:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ she rests herself against him, arms around him in a hug, and lotor stills. at home, she's far more powerful than she is here. but here, she feels so small, and delicate. like a firm touch would do her harm, and while lotor knows that that's not true, he's still cognizant of the fact that he's so much taller than she is, and she fits so neatly into his arms. like he's meant to hold her.

the thought causes an odd twist in his chest. it's grief, he knows, and his breath catches the slightest amount as he allows himself to feel the tiniest amount of it . . . before he catches hold of it, compartmentalizes it, and puts it away, his lips brushing the top of her head in a soft kiss before he sighs into her hair. ]


I have long since learned not to argue with you, Princess. [ and then, a slight pause, before his hand finds her face, and lifts her chin to look at him, his smile soft: ] Well, not argue with you over much. And hopefully over nothing of consequence.

[ he pauses, then, before he dips his head to press his lips gently against hers, the movement soft and light, gentle, in contrast to allura's prior kiss. and he lingers, for the barest moment, before shifting to kiss her forehead, exhaling slowly. ]

You are truly the brightest light in this universe. [ it's murmured, before he pulls away just enough to look at her, eyes searching out hers. ] Regardless of what comes to pass, either here or there, I know that to be the truth. I did not know true happiness, until I met you.

[ and, for the first time in many months, lotor actually does feel a bit . . . lighter, as he says it. some weight has been lifted, though he isn't sure why. but somewhere, inside him, he knows he has something to work toward, now. even if it is vague, and abstract, he could accomplish something. even if it is just making sure allura is not disappointed again. ]
unpatriarchal: (064.)

[personal profile] unpatriarchal 2019-03-26 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
[ her fingers in his feel warm, comfortable. easy, like it should be. and he exhales slowly, running a thumb over her knuckles. relaxing into the contact. and he wants to kiss her again, and hold her, but lotor knows that that chapter is long since over.

this is temporary. all of it is temporary. and he wants to talk to allura about that, and explain it, and own it, but . . . ]


My childhood has nothing to do with it, it . . .

[ but he stops himself, there, allows his voice to trail off, and he sighs, inclining his head back toward the temple. toward buildings, and their homes. their temporary abodes, anyway. ]

Can we return to talk inside? Or . . . not talk at all, but I would rather not have someone overhear. Or stumble upon us.

[ he doesn't want to deal with the fallout, so to speak. ]