ripe&ruin

𝙴𝚈𝙴𝙱𝚁𝙾𝚆𝚂  𝙵𝚄𝚁𝚁𝙾𝚆  𝙵𝙾𝚁  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙼𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃.  suddenly  he  felt  regret  in  his  attempts  to  reconcile  with  the  other.  gently  tucking  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  rather  (  uncomfortable  )  and  tight  pants.  “  woah.  “  he  jokes,  gently  leaning  against  the  brick  wall,  pulling  out  a  cigarette  and  placing  it  between  his  lips.  saying  barely  anything,  he  moves  the  lighter  with  one  hand  covering  as  the  tip  ignites.  his  eyes  draw  to  the  side  before  tilting  his  head  at  carmilla.  “  you  know  your  attitude  has  been  catching  the  attention  of  the  high  council  lately.  “  inhaling  the  smokey  paradise,  he  exhales  before  offering  a  glare.  “  might  want  to  control  that,  you  know  how  the  feel  about  the  emotionally  unstable.  “ 

𝙷𝙴𝚁  𝙴𝚈𝙴𝚂  𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝙴  𝙾𝚄𝚃,  all  she  can  manage  is  a  slight  huff.  it  didn’t  help  that  she  was  forced  to  carry  the  burden  of  carmillas  dread.  gently  pushing  the  bitter  liquid  to  the  back  of  her  throat,  the  witch  had  managed  to  let  her  eyes  adjust  to  the  party  around  them.  “  who  ever  thought  this  would  be  𝙽𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝙻? “ she  gently  smirked,  nudging  the  woman  beside  her.  “  we  just  need  to  socialize,  you  know  the  high  council  is  constantly  on  our  ass.”  sure,  it  was  smart  to  force  generations  of  grudges  together  in  the  same  town… not.  the  redhead  gently  up  and  downed  the  vampire,  before  offering  a  playful  wink.  “  to  make  a  certain  someone  fall  to  his  knees… or  death.  who  cares,  both  ways. “ 

“I wonder what they’d say if they showed up here right this second,” he says, closing his eyes again to focus on a breathing technique to calm himself down enough to get up again. The cold air in his nose is more evidence that his senses have sharpened. He will relaxation into the muscles of his neck and head— that’s where the pressure is the worst. It comes in as a trickle, but he wins over, and at last the prominent ache in his jaw subsides and the spams stop. 

“I have licked the wounds of vampires, Carmilla,” Manny says with a smile. “You taste like a lake rock.” He laughs and braces himself against the tree to stand. He pats Carmilla on the upper arm assuringly, and clears his throat. He remains steady on his feet, he is not concerned. Manny is still uncomfortable but he has a friend, and he has the beauty of the night. “I’m alright,” he finally says, and motions for her to continue on with him along the path. “I’m afraid I don’t have any frame of reference for how this is affecting me.”

               ‘ nothing nice, i’d assume. ’ she says, watching the man calm himself down with deep breaths. honestly, how could anyone actually enjoy this night ? ‘ you say that as if that’s worse. ’ she teases, before nodding when he says he’s okay and continuing their walk. a good number of people must’ve retreated to the clubs and houses since the streets aren’t as busy as they were earlier.

He manages something akin a laugh— he knows she is having a hard time too. What else were they doing here other than distracting themselves from the pull of the moon? Manny never did pride himself on suffering a transformation silently. There is no bravery in isolating yourself to pain. And so when the spasms take him again he groans, and tries to breathe through it, leaning against a tree, feeling slightly more grounded because of it. As it hits his mouth fills with blood again, like a rush of saliva, he spits again.

“Not quite,” he says with a self-deprecating tone. “Doesn’t hurt as much as under a Blood Moon, but it’s… so much more raw.” Her hand on his shoulder is actually more soothing than she can know. He’s always been a man for whom physical touch as been a calming balm. He looks at her, taking an emphatic deep breath, as he tries to grin at her through his pain. “What does it do for you? Werewolf blood? I’ve always been curious.”

               there’s little comfort she can offer him and she winces when he spits out blood again. the smell of iron has her nose scrunching up in distaste, even if she feels much more parched than usual. when she thinks that she’s in control of her hunger and need to feed, it’s only natural for the blood moon to knock down all the barriers she’s built over the years. but so far, she’s doing good. and she can only hope it says that way.

@gildcdlily sent:  “I swear to god, if you get blood on me…” for manny !

“Then move away from me, Carmilla,” he says urgently. He exhales something near a growl as another spasm claims him. He spits more blood, he will not change here. This Blood Moon was not something he enjoyed, he felt on edge, this was like an open channel, a faucet turned on full strength. It’s as if the moon wants him to turn, something he has had control of near-perfectly for centuries.Temanuarii has never enjoyed the symptoms of change, his particular line were not far from the originals, but his certain had pain during transformation. He would not change, not into his full form. But he’s already moving toward his partial form, all in the jaw and teeth and skull. He groans again, taking in a strong and deep breath. Perhaps this discomfort would be eased if he simply accepted that this is what his body wanted.

               the blood moon was once kind to carmilla. back when her principles were different and allowed her to enjoy the occasion, the vampire had no qualms with turning newborns and doing whatever she pleased, whatever the moon enabled her to do. the need to find a mate was the first thing she prepared herself to suppress for the first blood moon since she became sanguinarian, though perhaps it was something she held back before that.

               and to repress the carnal side brought out by the change of the tides is no easy feat. it’s still something carmilla is trying to master, even if it’s been more than a century since she left behind her former title.

              she can feel the bloodthirst in the back of her throat as she stares out her window, watching other creatures of the night celebrate outside the hotel under the moonlight. lose all inhibitions for one night. it’s a fight against her nature but she rolls her eyes at it anyway, nails digging into her palms as the thirst grows, begging to be quenched. for every instinct she defies, another war against herself is won. 

             as expected, tonight is different. 

             this year’s harvest makes all the difference with everyone, both stranger and familiar face, gathered in one place. perfect for classic blood moon festivities, not so perfect for the sanguinarian vampire. a strange kind of yearning tugs at her heartstrings, bringing up forgotten, stored away memories as she watches the scene below play out, every cell in her body telling her she should be down there with them. just like how it had been during the last harvest she attended.

    a library was full of secrets to find and the muffled stillness was the sort of atmosphere guinevere was always willing to welcome with ease. delicate fingers pull out a book bound in red leather, cracked and dry with age, the thin volume smells faintly of pipe tobacco and dust. the pages within are brittle and what remains of the book’s original stitching is barely holding it together. there is no title, no author’s name. just mystery and more lost history. the feeling causes a heaviness in the middle of her chest that she cannot place, and because of this, it’s easier for guinevere to ignore the feeling and focus her attention on spotting the raven-haired vampire.     guinevere silently makes her way towards the previous elder slowly before turning her back to hide her face. once carmilla acknowledges her presence, the angel can’t hide a toying smile on rosy-lips. “ i’m here to see a familiar face, ” she says, looking over her shoulder with her chin delicatly tucked in, eyes finding the vampire. “ so, yes. i do believe you can help me. ”

the library smells of parchment and dust.  rows and rows of leather and sheepskin bound books sit heavy on shelf after shelf, but the library doesn’t fill crowded.  light streams from a window, cutting him into shadows on the clean floor as he searches for a anyone who looks familiar enough with the place to find what he needs.  “oh thank the mother, i was starting to think i’d have to come back——,” he sighs in relief, reaching for his phone to show her a screenshot of an amazon page.  the book’s a copy of a copy, english print in a simple typeface with an unknown author and off-translated title.  “i’m looking for an original translation.  hebrew, or aramaic will do if that’s what you have.”