into ruin.

⊱   𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐓   ⊰   ⸻    a selective   &.   mutuals only   𝐌𝐈𝐗𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈 - 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄    with canons and original muses based on original lore and worldbuilding,   currently ft. 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑     ⸻ blog is rooted heavily within the   𝗚𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖 𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗥   &.   𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ( 𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍 ) 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘  genre. ⊱   written lovingly by jem.   he/they.   26+.   returned &. remade may 2026. PERMANENTLY LOW ACTIVITY.

➣ guidelines.   originals ( currently under co.). canons. worldbuilding. prompts.

𝗘𝗫𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚   ⊰   carving  divinity  from  nothingness,    knowing  means  surrendering  to  the  unknown,     the  endless games  between  mortals   &.   immortals,    writing  a  story  that  has  already  ended,     never  walk  through  open  doors,    curiosity  equals  death,     daylight  brings  horror  with  it,     family  legacies  burning  through  the  ages,    there  lurks  death  under  still  waters,     when  is  progress  destruction   ?

 ➣ 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛   ⊰   ✦✦ .. ✦✦   ⊱

even the act of breathing had become a farce lately. what reason was there to breathe when all you did was take that very essence of life away ? to move around in a manmade cage, a metal coffin that kept broken apart together, what right did one have to want to breathe ? the knight knew the answer but pretended not to: it was better to accept the lies than be confronted with the truth. your own shattered truth. for within that truth lied the reason for his existence. why he awoke after every death and donned the same armor. why he gripped sword or spear.

a purpose. a need. a desire to be of use ( what was a knight if he could not be used ? ). he'd long forgotten his first oath. or was it his first chain ? the leash which kept him tied and bound. there was a reason. even if heart no longer beat in his chest, limbs were too tired to move and voice was taken from him completely: even then there must've been a reason ! was it to be someone ? a knight. a knight. a knight. or was it to become someone ? a knight. a knight. a knight. a grunt was given in lieu of an answer.

"You could always make a new purpose for yourself, if you have stopped remembering..."

the helmet within clawed gauntlets was gripped tight, a veil of golden threads framed face and for a brief moment hid the anguished look within eye. jaws clench, teeth grit and the knight looks up. meets the sharp gaze of @malefikant. and he looks, he stares, he drinks him in. throat closes but words are pushed through regardless. broken, raspy, hope wrapped in the guise of a warning sign. ❝ then ... give ... ❞ it hurts to speak, always does, but the scar around throat burns brighter now. ❝ give me ... purpose. ❞ a haunting request, signing alexander's name within the pages of death. pulling him into the endless cycle of cruel rebirth and scattered oaths. he moves to lower himself down upon a knee, helmet held underneath arm and does he not look like a dog waiting for a command like so ? staring up at him. ❝ cannot -- give it myself. g-give me ... purpose. ❞

𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐞, knew all who dared to take a peek behind its heavy veil and see what delights took place within its ornate walls. eyes and ears everywhere, her swans as lovely as they were deadly: whispering among one another in corners and behind stage lights. therefore when they entered the gilded gates there was a flurry of feathers, of swirling dresses and snapping fans ━━━ tale already told. it's why before kira even reached the center of the elaborate foyer she was already there: prima donna, leading lady of the prestigious theatre. wrapped in silk and velvet, pearls adorning neck &. underneath those silken gloves hid claws that could tear any apart. behind those sweetly curved lips fangs meant to inject their poison and rot into any and all she so decided.

there is always a song surrounding yvette, from the bounce of copper curls to the clicking of red bottoms upon marble floor. and even now when the witch all but folds around and above her, defers to yvette's silent gesture of control, the melody continues to exist. now, it has settled between lips, of chill and warmth clashing, mingling perfectly. partially does she swallow @violevina's noises, drinking it eagerly. a hum, entirely pleased, escapes deep red lips when they finally part. gentle laughter follows, eyes softening yet flickering with serpentine mischief. ❝ have there been moments were you did not ? ❞ an answer replied in jest. her sweet little witch, so pliant and cute. those hands marred with unseen blood wrap around the serpent's waist, pushing her against her most devoted.

the prima donna lifts arms in response, heavy shawl slipping from bare shoulders as delicate hands wrap around kira's neck. a hug as much as it was a cage. serpent coiling around, such was her grasp as she all but wrapped herself around them. tugging them into the maw of the beast. ❝ darling .... ❞ she playfully rubs the tips of their noses together, can feel the eagerness within the witch's touch. revels in the fact that she needed permission, clung to every word that slipped from yvette's lips. ❝ hmm, but have you earned this second kiss ? ❞ ━━━ cont.

davina's movements always seemed so calculated, deliberate, almost practiced and perhaps in a way they were. something pretending to be something else: something real. it's why her head tilts slightly, fair locks shifting slightly across visage, hovering above sharp eyes: eyes that would ever only show the vampire visions of times to come, of a world turned asunder by her dogma, of followers molded into a shape she so desired. perhaps it was ironic that she could no longer clearly see the world around her ⸻ now filled with shapes &. blurry figures, a haze like midnight fog rolling across vision, an intricate mosaic of colors. it didn't bother her, sacrifices had to be made, there was no higher calling if you did not suffer first [ ... ] and she'd gladly suffer, in blood, bones, ash and death. always in death. perhaps that's why supple tiers curve up into a smile that's every bit angelic in its presence, why the poison that always dances upon her tongue is hidden by a sheen of honey.

here, within the ruins of an order she once belonged to, now the breeding ground of her hungry followers, here davina was a haunting spectre. death's pallor hidden behind veil seemingly woven from the nightsky, lace like snow draped across features, hiding the unnatural look within eyes &. the curve of bloodied lips. obscuring her visage from view. but from behind that gilded cage does she take them in. this knight of bleeding red, that sanguine color a direct contrast to davina's own blinding bright color: long tresses like snow meeting a glimmer of faded coral and eyes that long lost their color- now but a milky pearl. here in this fallen sanctuary she had build her own heaven, here where her old bloodline used to thrive, her followers had build her an altar worthy of eternal bloodshed. in these hallowed halls, nothing more than ruins for others, davina reigned supreme. and so this wouldn't be the first knight finding this forgotten sanctuary ( the knight of thorns found their way here too ). it wouldn't be the last either. broken halls that once held promises of paladin's long gone by, of a mother superior and her loyal daughters, of lashings deep into flesh. one thing davina knew and that was whatever @scionsrot wished to achieve she would make it impossible.

whatever led them here, continued to lead them here, this evening star would covet for herself, twist it and offer it like the forbidden fruit in this serpentine garden. what did stilott want ? and to that davina asked herself: what did she want from stilott ? one could say that this question was what made her stand up from the altar ( her death and rebirth ) and descend down the broken steps, gown pooling around her like an umbrella made of the darkest night, like ocean water surrounding broken ships. she the lighthouse: ever burning. ❝ it's not wise to unravel a web without knowing why it has been weaved in the first place, my hallowed knight. ❞ the vampire speaks as if reciting a psalm, eyes closed; for the truth she could see in the dark. the knight's reply soon echoes through, clings to broken tiles and war torn walls. i find such mysteries intriguing. shall we attempt to puzzle out your situation?

hands slip from sleeves, with gloves absent the odd colored gradient upon arms could be seen by all, by broken eyes of broken statues. cursing her, she who came from a long line of hunters but had now become what her family used to kill: look at me now, father, am i not perfect now ? ❝ whoever send you here before were wrong to do so. ❞ eyes open and she seeks that color of red again, focusing on it as shapes &. shades start to melt into one another. follows the rot within the knight to find her placement before her. it's only when the midnight sun stands before the knight that hands seek gauntlets, cradling them, pulling them towards chest. ❝ you keep coming back to seek answers i will not give. ❞ lost knight. damned knight. davina should become their beacon, their voice of reason, the deity they should kneel for.

❝ sir stilott. i am god. that is all there is to say. whatever could you try to unravel ? you've seen my flock, my house ... ❞ the broken church. ❝ are you trying to understand a god ? oh my ... ❞ soft hands cradle metal, simper flourishing upon gentle visage. ❝ then i shall be benevolent and allow you to look at me. what is it that you see ? ❞ the torches that light up the ruins of her sanctuary cast shadows upon once bright white walls, broken statues of revered hunters fill these hallowed halls ( of people she used to admire but now were but stepping stones upon her crusade ). her past and future collided upon the very stone altar that was now her throne. one stained with dried blood ⸻ her own ... many, many years ago for she died here and here she had risen once more. ❝ look at me properly, sir stilott. ❞

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. perhaps even a staple within their high - society: the continuous hosting of extravagant balls, the need to be entertained no matter the means. so too this feast hosted by one revered as high authority. guests delegates from various noble houses and houses of renown, a feast to strengthen the bonds between them all. again, and again, again. loyalties spun, sworn upon dead hearts &. whispered across stolen blood. ghastly souls congregating within this royal house of fear and nightmare. for when zhou jian would call, vampire houses would listen. cursed souls promising that they would adhere to the rules established in a time long gone by, swear sanguine oath to one another and to the nightmare king.

this nightmare king present in shadows, where night swaddled the world, his reach far &. wide. in dreams and nightmares, for he governed them both. olden deity, monstrosity, curse. from balcony does he look down upon his guests, fiery amber gliding across the puppets moving about, following their descent into collective madness. revelry. spinning around as the bell tolled midnight. dresses, robes, heels- a flutter of sound and a dazzling spectacle, hiding the corpses that inhabited them. though, even now, while there is much to see ... sharp gaze wishes only to find one person. and when they do, sanguine lips curve upwards into a gentle smile. ah, how a beast could pretend to be docile when it wished to be !

they leave the balcony, slender digits ( covered ) slide across the railing before they descend down the grand stairs. robes flutter behind them, following the waves of inky tresses darker than any abyss could ever be. and even amidst the haunting tune of the orchestra it seemed their presence spoke louder than all. for the dancing corpses turned, heads snapping, lips parting, bodies trying to get closer &. closer. but that jian ignored, lips parting into a silent laugh to see that they were the last to turn ( was it pettiness, ego, pride ? perhaps all of it ). the bodies part like the sea, the melody drowning out the terror of the night rising as if it too was curious about what was about to unfold. jian does not speak their name, does not utter a single word but simply slips hand around their waist, pulls them into a dizzying turn, right underneath the warm light of glittering chandelier.

❝ won't you stop pretending not wanting to see me ? ❞ he's invaded their space now, forward, lips close to ear, barely brushing against golden ringlets. ❝ you've decided to come, gift me your smile would you not ? ❞ free hand would glide across @scionsrot's arm, slid down until it found his hand. the ease with which the vampire king's hand would slide into theirs, claws wrapping around covered skin and with a wide step backwards does he lead them away. swirls the both of them into the center of the ballroom. his golden sun. dazzling, bright, thorny. cold, so cold, but winter's touch reigned within jian's hollow ribcage therefore how fitting they both were. he'd make it so, will it so, arrange it so. those russet hues bore into his, a silent flame crackling and jian drinks it as if starved from sustenance. entangled &. enwrapped with one another, where the blood council member ended and the sovereign began nigh impossible to decipher. grip tight, there was no softness here, yet only present upon those red, red lips. but zhou jian was ever only gentle when blood would spill and ichor would be guzzled down maw.

the hand upon gerhard's hip tightens, claws digging into supple flesh, gilded locks splayed across back kiss the edges of jian's hand. the music whispers, it tells a story, one wicked &. long and when the night king, voice deep and true, settles between the two it offers another kind of secret. ❝ if not your smile, then surely your heart ? ❞ perhaps their golden - lit vampire's response was to be expected. leveling them with that haughty look, that auburn gaze spilling the poison those lips refused to dirty themselves with. " i won't even dignify that with a response. "

so the king of nightmares laughs, pulls them into a dizzying dip and keeps them there. a waterfall of dark spills across shoulders soon after, capturing them into the eldritch creature's cage. eyes narrow, yet simper grows. ❝ i'll take that as permission. ❞ permission for what ? perhaps to remain that moth drawn to a flame. to douse that flame. to collect the ash &. the cinders and preserve it within that hollow, hollow heart of his. and so he laughs once more, soft, an alarmingly gentle melody amidst the maddening crescendo of the orchestra. he takes this moment: his dance partner, partially pressed against him, connected there where it mattered most and a promise woven in blood rests upon jian's tongue. he'd have their attention, their smile and their heart. he'd have it all.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 . they're anxious. they're elated. the array of emotions that took hold of the snow queen continued to surprise them. at times scared them ( but he was trying to be more accepting of it, of allowing himself to feel ... be selfish in that way ). how many times did isolde look into the mirror to check if no hair was out of place ? how many times did silken clad hands glide across lithe form to make certain no crease or fold was to be found within expensive robes ? the winds of snow - winter rose and descended like waves crashing upon the shores, following the swooping turns of their queen's heart. the large glass windows bore frosted ice flowers while the sovereign tried to keep their excitement under control ( willing the rose flush upon cheeks to fade away like harsh winter did when summer kissed their hand ).

perhaps one day there would be tales written about this. of a jaded hunter and a frigid snow queen, meeting one another where seasons bend and swirl. but no tale would ever be able to capture the sheer volume of the love isolde held for atticus. nothing in the world would ever be able to understand the depth, the vulnerability, the trust and promise engraved into every kiss given, every hug shared, every smile offered and every promise woven between the silence. some things were better left unwritten or understood, magic lived in the spaces unseen ( love was magic, no, magical. fantastical ). the song of high heels upon marble echoed the name of their love, the sway of robes whispered memories shared &. cherished and the smile upon the snow queen's lips ? dipped in deep mauve and stars of lavender spoke loudest of them all: you are my home.

the snow now has always brought him @killdevil a sense of peace. perhaps it is because of who embodies it in his mind, or because of once raging blizzards that engulfed this land now sits in delicate fall. he isn't so vain enough as to believe he was the reason for this change, but there is some part where he wants to believe that, in some small form, atticus had a hand in this. it holds in the way he smiles at the sight of them upon walking up to their palace, seeing them stand outside in pristine glory with their servants lined behind them, it leaves him chuckling. " y'ain't need to roll out the red carpet for me, my love. " when he's before isolde, however, the smile is warm and sweet. all before he places a gentle kiss upon their forehead, rough hand cradling supple cheek. " i hope i haven't left ya waitin' too long, work's taken far too much time. but i'm here now, i'm sorry i left you alone. " / for isolde <3 !

and so isolde looks upon atticus as he draws near and eyes burn with unshed tears. he pushes it down. pushes down until the last remnants of snow beneath heels melt away. their entourage giggles, shuffling behind their queen as they lean into one another. but this fae queen doesn't pay them any mind. not when his hawk folds into him, lips rest upon forehead and he cannot hide it anymore. cheeks are aflame while frost flowers encase the grand gates, take control of the vines swirling around ancient structures and soon the softest of snow flakes descend from the sky. no, not the sky. merely above the pair, twirling around them like witnesses to a moment most sweet. isolde leans into atticus touch, lashes fluttering as they look up at him. they want to assure the hunter, convince him that it was no big deal, he had work to do and so did they. time spend apart was to be expected but all the queen can do is sigh, almost pathetically, swallowing down the lump within throat.

it was too long ! he'd been away for far too long ! ❝ ... i'll wait an eternity for you if need be. ❞ the queen tries to take back control, will the song of their voice not to shake before burying face into the crook of their love's neck, arms wrapping around body, almost wishing to disappear into him. their inner court cast their eyes below before slowly retreating back inside the winter palace. there were some things they knew their sovereign didn't wish to show anyone but his partner. and they knew what would occur soon was reserved for atticus' eyes and ears only. perhaps that's why the wind picked up, a howling song that forced the blood red petals scattered about the courtyard to swirl around the pair. ❝ but, atticus, please don't ever take that long to come back to me again. i -- i wouldn't be able to bear it. ❞ slowly does he pull back, cold wisteria shimmers softly, painted tiers shaping into a faint pout. i don't ever want to be alone again. ❝ promise ? promise or i'll freeze you where you stand. ❞ brows furrow, he's being petty, bratty even ( and he knows it ). ❝ promise ... ❞