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@nightmires
💌: then plan something worthy of me with no cheap whiskey, no dim motel corners, something grand and maybe i’ll appear. 💌: wear something dark, bring flowers and something expensive for an apology gift for leaving me on read like i’m forgettable. 💌: you know better than anyone, niklaus, i don’t take being ignored lightly.
💌: this is why we need to talk… but you rather seem to like the game of cat and mouse, hmm? 💌: this is not a conversation for text messaging, niklaus.
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💌: you’re acting like i didn’t cradle the monster inside you before you ever learned to walk on your own two bloody feet. 💌: you want to see my face? lovely! just don’t flinch when it’s the last thing he sees.. after all, i’ve always looked my best in red.
💌: then plan something worthy of me with no cheap whiskey, no dim motel corners, something grand and maybe i’ll appear. 💌: wear something dark, bring flowers and something expensive for an apology gift for leaving me on read like i’m forgettable. 💌: you know better than anyone, niklaus, i don’t take being ignored lightly.
💌: i see the brothers are tucked away at that hotel like obedient little ducks, just waiting to be plucked! how considerate. 💖 💌: and really, at least turn off your read receipts. it’s terribly rude to ignore me and let me know you’re doing it. ciao!
💌: you’re acting like i didn’t cradle the monster inside you before you ever learned to walk on your own two bloody feet. 💌: you want to see my face? lovely! just don’t flinch when it’s the last thing he sees.. after all, i’ve always looked my best in red.
open!
you haven’t slept in two days, not because you can’t but you won’t: sleep invites dreams and dreams invite him and you’ve already had enough of him. you wake up screaming until your throat burns from anger and sadness and everything in between. you’re wearing sunglasses even though it’s night, hiding the sleep deprived bruises under your eyes, chewing the inside of your cheek until you taste chopper. you press your tongue to it, inviting the pain but you just feel numb; you always feel so numb. this art studio you have claimed and compelled from the owner out of boredom is almost too quiet.
you’re sat in front of a canvas half burnt, half painted from your own hands. ash and smoke haven’t settled, but you’ve put it out by now. you didn’t like how it came out; but you also wanting to burn something to feel anything, except you don’t, you haven't in ages. “destroying things used to make me feel powerful.” your voice is coarse, but you had long heard the footsteps behind you and knew you had to speak. “now i want to just do it to see what survives the fire⸻i want to see them engulfed in flames, to see who screams louder⸻ehrm, hi.”
@nightmires | + henrik
your brother looked nothing short of damper. it reminded you of your handler, your doctor too sometimes. all the agents of the initiative always were wearing 'soldier attire'. revenants, the cannon fodder they were, didn't receive any of that. in all honesty you didn't know if elijah would even recognize you, the initiative had molded you into what they think you would have looked like at this age. it wasn't your real form, and you had looked into your reflection so little as a child...
you truly found yourself uncertain if you would even recognize the differences in yourself as you were now. how in the world did elijah have any chance to? was it even worth trying? before you could turn yourself around, you incidentally met his eyes. you'd be staring. you were usually smarter then that, even being in proximity to family was depleting your braincells. "sorry bout that mate," you said, slipping into the mode of 'casual whatever type of person you won't think about again'. that is, if you do your job work. "just lost in thought was all."
you wanted to call his name but didn’t cause it felt wrong, like if i said it out loud hed’d disappear. he looks like him in ways you can’t place, but in some ways not at all. you remember reading a book once that said that animals recognize family by smell, by sound, even by the way they move. something about this familiar stranger felt like home, but you weren’t sure if your mind was playing tricks on you.
“you cried for weeks after father killed your favourite hen for stew, her name was skugga, because she was like your shadow⸻” you stand in front of him now, trying to see if this story at all resonates. “you had that rock you found in a fjord and carried it around that you were convinced was a sea god’s tooth⸻until that wretched boy stole it from you. isn't that right, hendrik?”
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📱 aurora de martel → klaus mikaelson ( @selfobsessive ) sent within 3–5 minutes
💌: i watched him look at you like he deserved you, like he even knows what kind of monster you are. you looked . . . happy, i nearly vomited. 💌: i’m going to kill him, of course. i’m torn between slow and theatrical or something meaningful that you’ll feel. 💌: tell me, when he touches you, does your skin crawl with guilt or pleasure? or both? i hope both, i really do. enjoy it while it lasts. 💌: see you soon sweetheart. ❤️
💌: i see the brothers are tucked away at that hotel like obedient little ducks, just waiting to be plucked! how considerate. 💖 💌: and really, at least turn off your read receipts. it’s terribly rude to ignore me and let me know you’re doing it. ciao!
you feel elijah enter before you see him. he's always been the steadfast answer to follow the chaotic question of you, never too far behind; it was only a matter of time before he appeared. already prepared, no doubt, for the gruesome scene he steps into now. you weren't tactful this time ⸻ you chose an club, compelled security to prevent anyone from coming or going, truly got creative in how you slaughtered your victims this time. and still ... you feel the anxiety for stefan's safety claw at your insides, make a nest of your splintered ribs. not even this mayhem has made you feel better, or powerful, or in control. now more than ever, you need control.
"better late than never, @nightmires, i was beginning to think you'd been too naughty of a boy and weren't allowed to join the rapture with the rest of us holy souls." your head lolls back against the top of the couch, ignoring the bead of blood that glides down your jaw. "tell me you've brought something more interesting with you than a lecture, i'm in a mood."
“i confess, i expected a mess. but this⸻?” you shoot a glance over the bodies, over him slouched and proud of himself, but you know the difference between art vs. play by now with niklaus. “⸻this borders on desperation.” your gaze lingers longer than it should but not on the corpses, not on the carnage, but on your younger brother and instantly you know something’s off. he’s still playing the part, lounging like a crowned devil on his throne with no worries, but you see it instantly: the tremble beneath the smirk, the indifference in his eyes and feel the uncertainty in the air.
you walk forward to stand in front of him while you take it all in, unable to be surprised at the excessiveness of his killings even if you want to. “no lecture tonight, only a question, niklaus.” you shrug and walk the final distance to take a seat beside him. “what have you done and why does it feel like you’re not sure either?” you pull out your pocket square from your jacket to clean off the blood from his face to offer as much comfort as you’re willing to give him right now. “you don’t seem satisfied⸻that’s the scariest part.”
📱 aurora de martel → klaus mikaelson ( @selfobsessive ) sent within 3–5 minutes
💌: i watched him look at you like he deserved you, like he even knows what kind of monster you are. you looked . . . happy, i nearly vomited. 💌: i’m going to kill him, of course. i’m torn between slow and theatrical or something meaningful that you’ll feel. 💌: tell me, when he touches you, does your skin crawl with guilt or pleasure? both? i hope both, i really do. enjoy it while it lasts! 💌: see you soon, my sweetest love. ❤️
meet aurora de martel.
meet elijah mikaelson.
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Taylor Zakhar Perez | June 25, 2025 | 🎥 IG
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