half agony, half hope.

date:14 février 2021 location: starlight opera house event: dieasancto ball // the before status: closed, for @cursefound​

She promises herself she will dance at least once before she leaves, but all too easily, it quickly turns into two, three, then a handful as she trades off with partners between songs. What she feels in her chest is as familiar a weight and warmth she could ever recognise. Maybe, she’s dancing to distract herself from it, from the all too devastating knowledge that he’s here. 

Annora twirls in a flurry of feather-white satin and blonde curls, curtsying playfully as yet another laugh tumbles from her lips and the song ends. And though some leave the dance floor, others remain, partnering up as a waltz slowly begins. Caught up in the moment she simply turns towards the the figure she feels approaching her from the side, arm already raising to assume the proper form and yet— ‘It would be awful to abandon him in the middle of the dance hall, it would be rude, she cannot—’ No, she will not. Her hand settles, a gentle pressure against the top of his shoulder; and the other is warm, is small, is delicately placed into his grasp. 

Two years and this is how he catches her off-guard. Despite the war, the bitter siege that takes place within her chest that aches everywhere in her heart and lungs, filling her chest cavity with smoke of what was attempted to be forgotten in agony, Annora practically glides with him along the dance floor. He leads, the dance is as easy a call/response as once could manage. But, had they not failed that simple thing in other ways before? For now, she keeps her head turned: scar hidden, eyes averted to the lapel of his suit coat. But, propriety wins out, enchantingly intertwined with unexplainable ease. His doing, the same way the pressure of his hand at the small of her back reminds her to keep her form relaxed. It is a waltz after all. 

In another few heartbeats she exhales, and her clear gaze travels from his suit to the cotton collar of his dress shirt. Then upwards she goes to his chin and like the edge of a cliff her gaze finds its way to the stark white edge of his mask. Higher and higher her eyes go until suddenly she plummets into the abyss, into devastating beauty and the most exquisite forlornness that begs she pay no mind to the world that surrounds them. Annora says nothing. But the light in her stare seems to glow, and even if he says nothing, she’ll at least have seen him and be seen by him for the first time in years. Like a fool returning to the place they’d nearly drowned, her attention is his, and she waits. She knows he does nothing without careful intention.

–

over the years, it had become easy to ignore the encompassing warmth and the feeling akin to butterflies. the farther away she was, the less he felt of it. however, the past couple of years ... it has been blaring in the back of his mind. especially tonight, just knowing she was there. he did his best to numb it with a liquor strong enough for an angel, but nothing would work. not even talking to people.

he finds himself somewhere upstairs when he just feels she’s close. closer than she’s been in two years. he turns his head, glances about ( as if he doesn’t already know where she is ). he just had to check before turning his head down, toward the main floor where the dances were held. and there she was. graceful in every move she makes.

and suddenly – everything is on fire. the warmth that he so desperately wanted to pretend was not there happens to be everywhere. and it burns at such an intensity, it takes his breath away. voices aimed at him begin to fade away until all there is is the music and her. all he can think of is how beautiful she is and that she’s okay. 

as if auto pilot was turned on, he holds a hand up to the man talking to him and starts to make his way toward the stairs. the man merely clicks his tongue and turns to find someone else to talk to.

as he walks, he keeps his eyes on annora the entire time. and suddenly he finds himself on the edge of the crowd. watching her in what feels like slow motion. he knows her eyes anywhere. her shoulders. her hands. the way she moves, the way she smiles. by the gods it’s as if two hundred years never passed.

he watches her laugh as the song ends and another is being prepared. and knows, that this is his only chance. feet walk him forward. hand reaches out. and connects with hers as if ... well, as if they were made for each other. 

and they glide across the floor. he doesn’t take his eyes off of her, doesn’t need to as he knows the dance like the back of his hand. ( they’ve done it more times than he can remember. ) when she begins to look up, his heart races just that little bit more. and there she is. eyes like their lake on a clear summer day. lips as soft as the first time he kissed her. hand radiating that familiar warmth. and ... a scar. one that sends a sharp pain in his chest, but only for a moment. he does not allow himself to go down that road. not yet.

right now, they are the only people in the room. they move together like they have lived and breathed waltzing. they move like the ocean, fluid and sure. benjamin leads, annora follows as they stare into each others eyes and everyone and everything melts away. and it’s just them. just like that night. he can feel himself smiling just that tiny bit as he watches her watch him. he wants to know what she’s thinking, but refuses to do that to her. he is not entirely sure he has her consent anymore for that.

when he blinks, the song is done. they are the last on the floor, for it seems the others started to trickle off as they started to watch ben and annora waltz across the entire floor. he can feel all eyes on them, but doesn’t take his eyes off of hers for a moment. he doesn’t want to miss a second of her as he drinks her in. 

benjamin franklin pierce @ diesancto masquerade ball.

as i write this, you sleep so very soundly. blissfully unaware of the world around you. i used to sleep, too. now all i do is watch you.

it’s hard to take my eyes off of you and yet when we are together, it feels as if the sun itself lives inside of me. when we are together, a love as bright as the sun burns in my chest. my love, in all my years of living, i have never felt more alive.

the love i have for you is all consuming. there is nothing else like it in the entire universe.

and yet ... i am scared. i am scared they are using you, like they used me. scared they are using you to get to me. 

scared that everything is genuine and there is no one else but you.

scared of pulling you down with me, that they will never let you return again.

you deserve to see where we came from. you deserve better and so much more than what i can give you.

i am so very sorry for leav

he stops. pen hovering over the paper. this letter, these words were too personal. too much. he looks back at her, still sleeping peacefully, with a small smile on her lips even. it would be better if she didn’t know, he thinks as if she doesn’t already know. as if they even have to SAY anything to each other. the looks that they give each other is enough.

tonight was enough.

his chest begins to well up with emotion. regret, perhaps. for what he is about to do. for hurting her, even though he is trying not to. and for not being able to let go of the tight feeling in his chest, the heart palpitations he receives whenever he thinks he is being controlled. whenever he thinks his life is being controlled.

i will not be controlled, he repeats to himself like a mantra.

but then tears begin to well in blue eyes that trace her lips, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. how dare they trick him to love this much. oh, but she makes it so easy.

still a brand new angel, not even alive for three hundred years, and have yet to see the absolute horrors of this world. but she has seen much of the earth’s delights. the blessing of mortals and their always evolving ways. he sees the love that she has for life on earth day in and day out. it is both inspiring and dangerous at the same time.

would another angel be mesmerized and stay until the end of time ?

he blinks himself out of a trance. wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. the smallest chuckle pushes out of his nostrils and the corner of his lips tugs just that little bit before he turns his attention back to the paper in front of him. he folds the paper already written on and slides it into his pocket before starting another.

i hope one day you will fo

... no. that’s not it, he thinks and tosses it into the fire.

i love you more than anything

absolutely not, he thinks and does it again.

i must go. i wish you well. with everything. please forgive me.

benjamin stares at the words. he can see the words i love you imprinted on the paper from the previous one, but does not think much about it. this one. this is it. it does not reveal too much so that it would hurt more. he does not say i love you to her. it is short and to the point. filled with all the regret and pain in the world.

he nods. satisfied with it. and signs it.

always yours,

benjamin.

tonight he was in search of a wrist blade. one he could wear underneath his coat or even his shirt. it would prove to be much easier when a target is in a busy place with one. despite the loud music blaring from the speakers over head, altaïr manages conversation with a young woman when he sees something out of the corner of his eye. suddenly, she matters not to him and he turns to his friend, corners of his lips curling upward. “ ah, the demon of the hour. you are a hard one to find sometimes, rodin. ”

tonight was a shopping spree for his newly acquired sugar baby. the sun had just gone down, and altaïr “just getting home.” he waits outside of the shop, smoke leaving his lips after he’s already taken a drag. “ ah. you’ve made it, ” he says, delighted. “ you remember the rules, yes ? ” nothing was off limits.

elliot trivan @ diesancto masquerade ball.

arcadia flamel @ diesancto masquerade ball.

altaïr trivan  @ diesancto masquerade ball.

one would think she’d tire of it, the social aspect of living where she’d spend even her idle time around others. but, there is something so easily familiar, so calming about being able to melt into that exact environment— be it the court of Versailles, a pub in Elizabethan England, or the crowds of balletomanes at Teatro alla Scala, she finds it simultaneously invigorating and calming at once. perhaps it is the idea of belonging that brings her to this place, too.

she neither startles nor excites at the sight of him. there may one day be a reason for the former. as for the latter, if she weren’t so poised, if it hadn’t been as long as it had been, then there might have been a chance. but, that is not the way things are. it is not the way they are, and there is still some part of her that could so keenly be pinned to the word ‘disappointed’ if she ever allowed such a bitter spike to catch her. instead, her reaction takes form in the faint upwards curve of her mouth and clear gaze gleaming with something, something between amusement and wariness. 

her chin leaves her hand at his question, and she moves from the way she’s strewn out, neatly rearranging herself like an awakened feline: crossed ankles switch to overlap with the opposite at the front, pulled to the other side of the chair as she sits up; the exhale like a soft waking breath as though she’d been dozing playing chess against herself. then annora gestures towards the open seat opposite her. ”please. the other seat isn’t taken.” what distance was a little table in comparison to decades? she drinks in the look of him as though starved of the sight (as she has been), but says nothing of missing his company (as is the way they are).

“of course,” she answers. “the past few matches have been sluggish yet difficult at best.” her hands fold neatly atop her skirt with a short breath. “but one’s worst opponent tends to be the mirror.” with her eyes flitting briefly between the half-reassembled chess board and elliot, annora hesitates for just a heartbeat more before she speaks what’s glaringly obvious: “you stuck to your word. no letters after that last note.” her tone is lukewarm at best. it’s been decades, it shouldn’t matter. there have been others, and yet. the mage before her is handsome as ever. her words imply that he has not only been thought about, but missed. 

does he know yet? has he learned by now that the white mage he’d met once was not merely what she presented? she misses and she wonders— isn’t that the most damning part of her existence? 

-

elliot knew the life he chose to lead would not allow him to stay in one place very long. he knew he would have to give up love as a viable option for him. but a fling ? one that was able to hop between countries and span nearly a century ? he certainly didn’t mind the convenience. but all it took was one night of thoughts swarming in his head like a hornets nest. 

possession was unbecoming of him. or was it love ? he wasn’t entirely sure then, and he isn’t entirely sure now. the only other time he ever loved someone was before he started training to be a mage. but she was just a mere mortal, and rather than hinder elliot, who would be able to learn immortality, she let him go. it’s been a very long time since that, and he never found anyone else. and has been unsure since.

which is why he says nothing of the last time they saw each other. nothing of the letter he left for her to read when she awoke the next morning. the two merely pick up as if they had just seen each other a few months before. and though he feels a thickness in the air, he decides to proceed cautiously on and sit across from her.

and then it hits. you stuck to your word. “ i did, ” he finds himself saying a moment after as he begins to set the board up. the thickness in the air tightens its tendrils around his throat. i didn’t meant to get too attached. his eyes flicker up for a moment, catching her gaze and what seems to be ... longing ? somewhere hidden inside before looking back at the board. i’m sorry. after another moment of silence and finishing the board, he looks back up with a small smile. 

Characters: Medea & Elliot ( @cursefound​ ) Location: Oceanid Apothecary Timestamp: Another Day In Seattle

The sorceress delicately placed several bundles of herbs into a paper bag. It was nearing closing time, but with how slow the day had been she didn’t mind lingering a bit longer if it meant closing a sale. The chime of the bell signaled the entrance of another customer, pulling her attention away from the task at hand. Medea couldn’t help but grin at the familiar face, finishing her other customer’s transaction with the slightest bit more haste. She waved them off, waiting until they had exited the store to address her fellow mage with an exaggerated sigh.

“Socialization–am I right? Putting on a good face can be so exhausting. Though I must admit, you’re looking a touch exhausted yourself, friend. How is my favorite customer faring today?”

-

it’s not like elliot to ever run out of herbs, he’s always been prepared. however, the past week or so had taken him by surprise, and with the two cruise ships in town brought so much more tourists than he thought there would be. pike place market was a nightmare for the locals, and a little bit for him as he had to make sure none went missing while they were visiting. and all of this, of course, lead to a lack of sleep. which he’s used to. and he can function well enough. but it doesn’t mean he likes it.

so there he finds himself, inside of a good friends’ business in need of stocking back up because he’d gotten too busy. he offers a warm smile and a nod to the outgoing before it softens and he chortles at what she says.

date: TBD location: regime du matin, lower levels restricted for supernatural beings time: evening status: open (0/2)

A game of chess with the right people is a bit like dancing; a bit like sparring; a bit like war. It’s a game for idle minds, a reminder to think ahead, a promise that even those most powerful could fall, a reminder of death. It’s one of Annora’s favourite games to play.

She’s in one of the cafe’s many sitting areas, somewhat secluded but easily located by anyone looking around the room, playing a game of chess against herself on one of the swiveling boards. It’s one of the cozier spaces, plush chairs and a pool table, books to explore and cards to play. It’s quiet, warm with the magicked fireplace. Patrons and employees come and go without her so much as looking up, her teapot being refilled once while she sits, but as she rearranges the board to begin another game she notices someone pause. So, her gaze travels from the board to them. “Would you like to join me?” She gestures to the seat on the opposite side of the table with one hand, half-smile curved crookedly on her mouth as she sits up from her previous position: lounging in the high-backed chair like some bored divinity with one elbow on the arm rest and chin in her hand, curled hair loose from its styling from earlier this morning further tousled as she runs her fingers through her golden locks. 

“Unfortunately, it’s not coffee at my table. Just tea.”

-

usually elliot’s weekends were saved for protecting the city. however there was the rare occurrence of a lull in mysterious things happening, giving him a much needed break in between. and this was one of those.

he likes regime du martin for the amount of supernatural beings that come in, all peaceful and not wanting to bring destruction ( or so he hopes. ) he’s also a fan of their coffee which, in his opinion, was far better than starbucks. it’s why he leaves his bike locked outside and smiles when he’s greeted by the employees. he never meant to become a regular, but he didn’t have a coffee maker at home, and so...he came here. he only orders a black coffee and a warmed up croissant, thanking them when they say they’ll bring it out to him.

but then he turns around, ready to sit at his usual spot ... and he sees her. not in his usual spot, no. but in the corner, next to the fire place. he’s not sure how long it’s been since they last saw each other, time seems to stand still when you’re immortal. but he remembers the circumstances of his leaving. ( he never wanted to. ) 

as if on cue, a couple of rays of sunshine poke through the grey clouds of seattle and shines through the windows of the cafe, casting a sort of glow around her. elliot can only smile, though there’s a twinge of pain that shoots through his heart. still, finds himself being pulled toward her, and suddenly he’s at her table, watching as she rearranges the board for another game.

introduce yourself! name & pronouns & a little blurb about yourself.

ayo whaddup im molly i’m 27, i go by she/they & i never learned how to fuckin read (: jk i talk in vines and tiktoks. i’m in pst and always looking forward to making new friends <3

describe yourself as a writing partner are you laid back? incredibly enthusiastic?

ok so i’m both incredibly laid back and enthusiastic. idk how else to describe it like you can take all the time in the world with a reply idc and if i ever forget something (which i definitely might since i’m working again) pls don’t ever hesitate to remind me about a thread we have i will 100% apologize profusely every single time lmfaoooo

i like yelling about my characters, but also am always ALWAYS interested in hearing about yours!!!!! i’m a hoe for plotting and honestly love pre established relationships, but i’m not opposed to just writing starters and going from there too <3

who are your characters? you can use this to quickly introduce your muse(s)

so i have the twins, altaïr ( pronounced al-tai-air ) and elliot trivan, and i have arcadia flamel !

altaïr is a hitman/sugar daddy vampire, elliot’s a fisherman/mage, and arcadia is a thief/treasure hunter/archaeologist/tiefling (:

plot ideas what types of plots would you like to see for your character(s)?

for altaïr, i’d love some sugar babies 👀 and for arcadia she has someone looking for her because she stole from them ( something extremely valuable i imagine ) that she either sold or gave to seattle’s local museum so they can study it or whatever. and maybe said person who was stolen from finds her and just wants That Thing back so they either pay her to get it back or they try to kill her lmAO. also !!!!! for elliot, i’d love if someone would come up to him and be like “what are you doing in the light i thought you were a (whispers) vampire” meanwhile elliot’s just like and i oop 👀

wanted dynamics what type of relationships would you like for your character?

elliot needs fwends, altaïr needs a boss or a target, and arcadia,,,,,,,just wants to not be judged for the way she looks ):

honstly though, i’ll end up writing more about their wanted relationships/dynamics a little later.

present headcanons what is your character(s) doing in the present?

presently, elliot likes his day job as a fisherman. he usually sells what he catches at the pike place fish market in the mornings. he’s a little exhausted, though, because altaïr’s been on a slightly sloppy feeding binge lately and elliot’s been cleaning that shit up for him ( even though altaïr has no idea elliot’s even in seattle ). and then we have arcadia, who just came back from the amazon rainforest and is sorting through her finds. what a fucking nerd.

do you have any inspirations for your muses ( spotify, pinterest & ect )