Aconcoctionofobsessions - Elusive

📸 natallia_fedoseeva

Vesper Confesses AU

They spent the day in the sunshine on the deck of the yacht, but now they’re tucked safe below, resting together in the cozy, lamp-lit bunk-space. They’ve been trading little secrets back and forth, both of them too sun-drowsed to be bothered with sex. He knows about her first kiss and her mother’s alcoholism. She knows about his parents’ deaths, that girl at Eton, and his most embarrassing moment during Six training.  

It’s her turn to go, and she’s been quiet for a long while, so long he’s not sure they’re playing the game anymore. Finally she sits up, her back a tense line against the headboard, and says, “James.” Her mouth trembles. “I need to tell you something.” 

James swallows. “You don’t have to,” he says carefully, hearing the fear and the dull resignation in Vesper’s voice. If only nothing could spoil their happiness; if only Vesper could pretend that all was well again. 

But Vesper is brave, sensible, and ruthless. “I don’t have to say anything,” she agrees. “In fact, I planned not to. But I find that I need to. And I need you to promise that you won’t interrupt. You won’t say a word, not until I’m finished. Understood?” 

“Completely,” James says, his heart sinking into his stomach. What will he hear?  

Mostly, however, he’s relieved. They’ll finally have it out, this thing that’s had Vesper twitching at shadows, pasting on a smile like he can’t see that something’s wrong. 

He’s played pretend in his relationships for all his life, and Vesper is the first person to make him feel like honesty could be enough. 

Please, let it be enough. 

***

“It was a trick,” Bond says afterward, numb. What will he do? But first, she has to know– “They didn’t really have him. Yusef. You know that, right?” 

For the first time since she started speaking, Vesper turns to him. “No, I heard him!” she says, anger flashing in her eyes. “They played me his–you don’t want to know the things I heard him going through!” 

How can he tell her? 

But Vesper is brave, ruthless, and sensible. She needs to know. 

And it’s his turn now, anyway. 

“One of the first missions they send potential double-ohs on is a seduction mission,” Bond says dully. “It’s intentionally long-term; could last up to a year if you’re unlucky. Meant to be a soft introduction to undercover fieldwork. And the goal is this: to make someone in a critical position fall in love with you. To begin a strong relationship with that person. And then to convince that person that you’ve been kidnapped and will only be kept safe in exchange for valuable information, sabotage, and favors.”  

Vesper’s hand comes up to her mouth. A high-pitched sound stays trapped in her throat. “You–” 

“I succeeded,” Bond says, closing his eyes. “Like he did. I’m sure of it. What you said, it’s right out of the training manual. Even the necklace–we’re told to give the target a token of physical affection, something they can wear every day, so they never forget who they’re tied to.” He hesitates. “I gave mine a ring.”   

***

He spends the rest of the night sitting on the cold wooden deck outside, going over all of it in his mind. What she’s done. What he’s done. What they’ve been through. 

Can he love a spy? 

When it’s put like that, he laughs a bitter laugh. Of course he can. To do otherwise would be hypocritical, wouldn’t it? And he does. When he puts the fury and hurt aside, he admires her all the more. If she hadn’t said anything, she would have succeeded. He’s sure of it.   

A scared woman in a trap, and she would have out-maneuvered him in order to save him, and let the steel jaws close in on herself.

Poor bitch. Poor, brilliant bitch. 

*** 

He makes scrambled eggs the next morning. It helps him think. 

Vesper, silent, glances up at him in between writing in a journal. 

“If you could do anything,” Bond asks, serving the plates up, “what would it be? Your ideal future.” 

Vesper eyes him closely, her pen unmoving on her page, before answering. “I would want the two of us to be doing good work and to be happy. Either together, or separately. And you?”  

James takes a deep breath. “It seems to me we have two concerns,” he says. “Our own safety, and our country’s. We could go to M and ask for her protection. She would be better able to justify it to her superiors if we brought along a bargaining chip–the contact who was going to meet you in Venice. Once we get him, we can begin eliminating the rest of his organization–anyone who would know enough to want to kill you. And after that…after that, we’ll be free to do anything. Go anywhere.” 

Free like he thought they were yesterday, before…before everything. He’s still got the draft of his resignation letter saved in a file. Maybe someday he’ll get to pull it out again.  

Vesper taps her pen against the side of her cheek, considering. “You’re never giving me a ring,” she says finally. “Or a necklace. In fact, no jewelry. And you’re to keep your hair short so I can never have a lock of it.” 

James grimaces. The hair thing had been in the handbook too. His own hair has always been too short for it, thank fuck. “I can do that,” he says. “And in return, you’ll tell me whenever you’re planning something suicidal and self-sacrificing again. The only lamb that needs skewered here is me, remember?” 

For the first time in hours, Vesper’s lips quirk up into a shadow of their usual smugness. “You may have a point.” 

“So, we’re doing this?” James asks. 

“These are dangerous people,” Vesper says. It’s not quite an objection. 

James reaches for her hand across the table. “So are we,” he says, looking into her eyes.  

She squeezes his hand. “All right,” she says. “That’s it, then. We’re going to capture Mr. White and take my life back.” Her mouth sets with determination. “And I know just how to do it.” She taps the journal. “Starting with this.” 

Of course she’s got a plan. James smiles. She might be a bitch, but she’s James’s brilliant, brave, ruthless, sensible bitch, and he wouldn’t have her any other way.  

Krishna : Now I’ll just casually tell Arjun that Duryodhan wants to marry Subadhra, and also drop hints about where she’ll be tonight ! What could go wrong ?

His phone the next day :

tagging @soniaoutloud @chaanv @bigheadedgirlwithbigdreams

KAUTILYA v/s AAMATYA RAKSHAS

Kautilya, or Chanakya, was a professor at Takshashila University of ancient India who takes most of the credit for the formation of the Mauryan Empire. He is also rightly called the Kingmaker, since he picked Chandragupt off the road and with his cutting intellect, ruthless patriotism, and sheer acumen for diplomacy, overthrew the Nanda dynasty and established Chandragupt as king. The task wasn’t easy, however. While Kautilya could single-handedly out-smart the most formidable foes, the Nanda court had an extremely loyal minister: Rakshas. Equal to Chanakya in wit and shrewdness, he hatched several plans to kill Chandragupt, whom he saw as a usurper. This obviously resulted in him and Kautilya being at constant loggerheads. His ruthless attempts at Chandragupt’s life included trying to poison him, orchestrating an ‘accident’ where a giant door frame would fall on Chandragupt while he was alight his elephant, and sending a Vishkanya (poison-maiden) to him. Chanakya’s goal, however, wasn’t to eliminate AmatyaRakshas. On the contrary, seeing the staunch loyalty and ruthless brainpower he possessed, Chanakya wanted to convert him into a loyal minister in Chandragupt’s court, a feat in which he ultimately succeeded.

http://iglovequotes.net/

Krishna and Rukmini for the Compass Rose meme. Thanks.😄

North

first encounter | (turnabout is) fair play | fool’s gold | forbidden fruit | the female of the species is more deadly than the male

They watch her, eyes glittering with greed, and anger tightens Rukmini’s throat once more: to this crowd of shameless men, she is no more than a prize, a possession that their friend has already claimed.

She forces herself to smile.

Let them look; they will never have more than this illusion of her, docile and demure. They are fools, each and every one of them, and treasure knows better than to stay in their hands.

South

(cold) comfort | confession | cloak and dagger |  crocodile tears | charmed life

Perhaps it is a tad dramatic to send a secret letter.

Rukmini cannot bring herself to regret it, though: always she has been wise Rukmini, prudent Rukmini, Rukmini to whom all answers are known. Some might suppose it was only that she craved some excitement in her life; so, at least, her brother supposes in her fury.

But in truth, she has as much of a taste for intrigue as her husband — and when one feels so, when one fights for her very life, who would not expect wise and prudent Rukmini to plot and scheme?

East

stars | songs and stories | (politics/misery makes for) strange bedfellows | silver lining | sea change

Someday, Rukmini knows, Dwaraka will return to the sea. She does not regret this: her kingdom, though beautiful, is but borrowed from the ocean, and outsiders may not enjoy his bounty for long.

No, what she dreads is that Dwaraka dares not abandon its duty while Krishna lives, but he cannot do so forever. Someday, Rukmini knows, Krishna must return to the heavens from which he came—and that day shall be her last on this earth.

West

just in time | joined at the hip | jam tomorrow | juvenile | journey’s end

Her heart stops a dozen times, once for every step that leads down the Devi temple. She feels alone, flanked though she is by waiting-women—at least until she hears the thunder of trotting horses.

A hand takes hers, and tugs her into the chariot; Rukmini laughs in delight.

“I trust,” says Krishna, “that I am not too late.”

“Not at all,” Rukmini replies, in every bit as excessively solemn a tone. “You are just in time.”

They beam at each other.

Mythology Fic Challenge: H for Honor, Sita & Draupadi

For anon!

Draupadi learns quickly to be exasperated with the example set by Janaka’s daughter. “She suffered so,” exclaim the other women of the court, “and remained silent through it all! That is why,” they tell Draupadi, newly emerged from fire and a stranger to human mores, “she became a goddess, remembered to this day.”

Draupadi has no use for goddesses, not when the crackle of fire is so close to her soul, and Krishna a friend she can know and see and feel. She has just as little patience for silence, too, no matter how potent a weapon it might be: hers will always be the shout instead.

But Krishna always shakes his head at her when she complains. “You are not so very different, you know,” he tells her mildly. “I am sure she does not deserve your scorn.”

“Maybe not,” Draupadi admits, “but not my respect, either.”

That is before Draupadi is won, and wed, and wagered away: that is before the first shock of finding herself so poorly valued by those she had loved and trusted. That is before she closes her eyes and dreams, the bruises of Dushanana’s fingers still livid on her shoulders, and sees a golden-skinned woman before her.

The woman raises a hand, holds it to Draupadi’s cheek. Her fingernails are caked with dirt. 

“My poor daughter,” she breathes. “Learn this from me: your honor is in your own hands, and no other’s. No one can take it from you, not by touch or word or deed. Fight for it, with all your strength; rage against the powerful, who would render you so helpless.”

Mother, Draupadi thinks, with a desperation she has never known. Sister. Anyone who might understand me. 

“The world has forgotten this of me,” says Sita sadly. “Not you, as well.”

Saw this doing the rounds on Facebook 😂

@femmefatalenet | event nine | athena in 2018 | sky

In 2018, Athena is still in Athens, trying to figure out where it went wrong, strategizing, reading, analysing, war after war after war, trying to see when she lost control of it all, when it starting going beyond her. Because she is determined, single-minded, steadfast, and she is going to change the world once more.