ELIJAH - MIKAELSON

INCLINATIONS  &  HABITS  :

is  submissive.   is  dominant.    prefers  to  top.     prefers  to  bottom.   likes  to  switch.  identifies  as  heterosexual.   identifies  as  homosexual.     identifies  as  bisexual.    identifies  as  pansexual.    identifies  as  demisexual.    identifies  as  asexual.     enjoys sex  with  men.   enjoys  sex  with  women.    enjoys  sex  with  multiple  people  at  one  time.   initiates. waits  for  partner  to  initiate.   spits.     swallows.     prefers  sex  in  the  morning.     prefers  sex  at  night.   prefers  sex  any  time.    no  sex  drive.   low  sex  drive.   average  sex  drive. high  sex  drive.   hypersexual.

BODY   /   APPEARANCE  :

small  build.     medium  build.   athletic  build.   muscular  build.     curvy  build.     voluptuous build.     wears  boxer (briefs) .   wears  lingerie.     goes  ‘commando.’   shaves  /  waxes. doesn’t  shave  /  wax.   cup  size  a - c.   cup  size  d - f.     1 - 5"  in  length.    6 - 9"  in  length. 10"  or  over  in  length.

SOUNDS  :

is  silent  /  makes  little  to  no  sounds.     is  very  quiet.    is  very  loud.   grows  in  volume  over  time.   bites  hand  /  partner  /  pillow  to  muffle  themselves.    calls  out  partner’s  name.   curses.   fakes  /  exaggerates.     prefers  a  quiet  partner.     prefers  a  loud  partner.   is  turned  on  by  dirty  talk.   is  turned  off  by  dirty  talk.

KINKS  :

having  their  hands  pinned.    pinning  their  partner’s  hands.   having  their  hair  pulled.   pulling  on  their  partner’s  hair.    being  watched  ( by  their  partner ).   being  watched  ( by  a  third  party ).   watching  their  partner.   receiving  oral.   giving  oral.   calling  their  partner  ‘ daddy.’    being  called  ‘daddy.’    giving  praise.   receiving  praise.    biting  /  marking.   being  bitten  /  marked.   some light spanking.   being  spanked.   teasing.   being  teased.   having  toys  used  on  them.   using  toys  on  their  partner.   giving  anal.  receiving  anal.  choking.    being  choked.    dirty  talk.    being  tied  up.   tying  their  partner  up.   being  worshiped.   worshiping  their  partner.   humiliating.   being  humiliated.    degrading.     being  degraded.     knife  play.     blood  play.   being  pegged.  pegging.

PLACES  :

———       @ofaxnoblefacade​ ,                    elijah   mikaelson . 

               as  if  her  heart  stopped  !   relief  is  a  delicious  sensation ,   one  rebekah  is  well acquainted  with  due  to ,   in  her  opinion ,   the  stupid  and  reckless  actions  of  her  family .   but  every  time  it  floods  her  senses ,   she  thank  whatever  cruel  god  that  she’s  allowed  to  live  for  another  year  to  feel  it .   within  an  instant ,   the  default  demeanor    (   consisting  of  a  guard  up  and  attitude  high   )    drops ,   and  she  becomes  the  little  sister .   the  little  sister  whose  love  for  her  brother  makes  up  her  whole  being ,   childlike  smile  taking  over  her  whole  face .    ‘   oh ,   thank  god !   ’

      TWENTY YEARS AGO, if you asked her where she’d be now, this wouldn’t be the answer she came up with. her then werewolf hormonal brain wouldn’t be able to fathom the events that would transpire all from seeking out her biological parents. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO, she would never have guessed as a teenager that a world like this could exist. this future? it never seemed plausible to her. hayley wants to tell him, oh she wants to scream  IT’S ME ELIJAH. the selfish part of her doesn’t want to. she fears that if she does, he’d tell klaus and the rest of the mikaelsons and the truth is, she doesn’t want to live in a world where they’re not remembered. where they don’t exist. moments like this, although heavy, lift some kind of weight from her shoulders.

      it’s safe to say she panicked. “DOOMED BUT LOVELY,” hayley remarks. he’s so close that she feels like she’s been set aflame by the warmth that radiates from him. his cheeks, a soft shade of pink she swears she’s never seen before. his chest? raising and falling as he inhales and lets the breath go. “you are sweet.” she wants to call him by his name again but she remembers  SHE SHOULDN’T KNOW IT. it would only raise more questions. his fallen features? tortured. hayley wants to ask but she knows that if she’s going to be selfish about who she is and the past they’ve shared, it’s not her right to do so. “i’ve been drinking moscow mules but you… look like you’re an adventurous type.” OR MAYBE SHE CAN HELP BRING THAT SIDE OUT. he looks like he needs something different than the same old bourbon but in again, maybe bourbon was exactly what he needed. “if all else fails, there’s always bourbon.” 

HAYLEY NODS TO THE STOOL AND SMILES, “what’s it going to be?” 

       it felt like a pressure or an unchanging  F O R C E  as if he was being pulled directly into her orbit and maybe he was; it wasn’t for him to know that he’d been in it all along, that if not for circumstances outside of their control he’d remember EVERYTHING and he’d do so without the need to hold back — his only fears remained inclined to the deepest parts of himself, that this all was but another illusion woven within the fabric of everything that made him human. In turn, the same fabric that had once made it easy to read the truth or the lies: to see through veils and facades to know without a need to second guess, that the words were genuine ( honest in ways that often spoke to his very soul ). “ you are something so, contrasting to everything else. ” to everyone else as far as that was concerned but it was an idle comment, something that came out of him before he had the chance to stop it and certainly something he wasn’t ashamed to have said. there was an earnest moment, something that felt REAL and speaking on it: speaking on anything that reminded him he was so far from that horrendous and torturous place was something he’d hold tightly; an embrace of souls as it were. 

  there’s not a thought to it, to moving into sitting beside her and letting the moment be ( for at least a little while ) his choice of drink. Although nothing quite matched her features or the way she seemed to so freely find herself. He was no fool regarding inner turmoil, that she may, like him and many others, be burdened with the same torturous weights that he could certainly relate to BUT there is a part of him, something moral and kind that would hope she wasn’t ( no matter how well she carries it ).  “ oh, now that is a wild assumption...— ” a chuckle, something easy and needed. something that seemed to fill the space and leave ease to the atmosphere around them; he was grateful for it. “ I’ve had many an adventure...BUT...I could hardly tell you what kind of man I am. ” because he truly didn’t know anymore, he’d like to make guesses and certainly could attest to still holding values that made it severely important for him to be the same familiar pseudo parent to his younger brother or glue in the matrix that seemed to form his family as a whole but beyond that? he failed to come up with an answer. “ Life is scarce,” he confirmed. “ I suppose given I could die tomorrow, investing my time in something different doesn’t seem too much of a provocation. ” a smile sets in again, not simply soft as much as playful and free. Something inspired by her and something that he wasn’t sure he’d be capable of without. “ two, Moscow mules. ” a quick nod in the bartender's direction. 

     "  RUMOR  HAS  IT,  you  just  checked  out  of  hotel  hell. ”   he’s  never  been  much  for  tact,  can’t  help  the  dry  comments  he  makes  as  he  inspects  the  recently  resurrected  original  vampire.   (   if  you  can  even  call  him  that  anymore.   )    “  i  took  the  tour  once.  can’t  say  i’m  a  FAN. ”    @ofaxnoblefacade​

XVIII. The Moon - what is the most significant secret your character has discovered?

I wanna say the ones that stick are more so things like Esther’s affair, discovering that Esther willingly chose to weaken Klaus in order to cover her own neck and likely the fact that he was the cause of Tatia’s demise. The most significant likely will always fall to Tatia’s demise if only because she was the cause of his inner psyche and what really sort of pushed him into creating the red door. The others merely present as something that tends to fuel his anger toward those he once called parents. 

☆* Ten of Wands - what is the heaviest burden your character has had to shoulder?

◥█̆̈◤ Ten of Cups - what family memories does your character hold dear? 

I think the first would be those times when the family were human, kids at this particular point and Klaus used to come with him with these various invented colours of paint which he would talk about like they were the rarest pearl and it used to make Elijah soft. In ways where it often made him more angry at Mikael, more willing to want to strike him down because he couldn’t understand why their father wouldn’t love Klaus. If he was in Mikael’s place he knew he would love him without measure, his brother was soft and there hadn’t been a thing he would want to change about that. 

XIII. Death - what kind of transformation(s) has your character gone through? If multiple, which is the most significant? relatively 

@ofaxnoblefacade​

      POWER  IS  A  FUNNY  WORD.  ever since he woke up ten wee years ago, he’s had a little but that word is definitely defined with LACK  OF. still, he can taste hell in the air and he can single out the man easily. “do you remember it?” lucifer questions as he nears the man, eyes narrowing before they roll. he doesn’t care, not one hundred percent, but someone so fresh out of hell? “any demons still in hell, friend?”

    did he remember it? it  A L M O S T  seemed like a question welded in the blades of his tormentors as if even now he could recall the brush of a knife or branding irons that burned into his skin. He found an infliction between what he deserved or accepted and what he could scream at — screams that still seemed to echo into a restless night or a bleak day. “ I have scars, I still hear the screams of the souls around me — yes, I recall it fairly well. ” a bitterness not out of anger at his torture but rather that it had done little to ease the demons that danced among his head. If the man wanted to find some, the ( former ) Original almost wanted to insist he’d find plenty there. “ I didn’t see many, though I was rather...PREOCUPPIED. ” 

    dead.  that would explain the other version of him  (  a placeholder,  if she had to guess  )  and their last no questions conversation.  she doesn’t process it in the moment,  probably won’t until much later.  when she’s with her father,  or landon,  or in her own bed.  she’ll give herself the luxury of vulnerability when she feels safety.  (  right now,  she doesn’t.  )   “ you were in hell. ”  that’s the part that registers most.  she’s known the suffering of her family,  felt it when they were driven apart or when they were at each other’s throats.  but she’d never experienced hell.  the chasm she doesn’t know how to breach is far wider now and he’s standing in shock at the other side of it.  “ i’m so sorry. ”  what was an apology to a stay in eternal damnation?  she’s catapulted back to her fifteen year old self.  i don’t want to die,  she’d begged her father,  without any true idea of what death would entail,  and he’d promised her it would never come to pass.  her uncle didn’t have that reassurance.  and equally,  didn’t seem to have a choice. by that,  nothing else she could say feels right.  “ there was a monster at the school. ”  she chooses to tell this story instead.  “ he was a necromancer.  – he told me my father didn’t regret his choice. ”  (  but he won’t find peace until you do.  she chooses not to include that part of the story.  )  “ do you? ”  

      HIS WARMTH FEELS EXPLOSIVE. she can’t explain it but he feels different to her even through his inability to recall who she is. it feels much, much different from when he didn’t know who she was when he willingly erased his memories the first time. THOUGH EVEN THEN HE FELT LIKE SHE WAS FAMILIAR. she thinks she might understand now, familiar as if the sun shining down on you or experiencing something for the first time… but this warmth is so different alluring, drawing her in and almost making her mouth water. hayley had taken a breath in and held it like she’s bracing herself for something unexpected yet so expected at the same time. yet it’s not expected FOR HIM TO BE SO SOFT IN WORDS. she doubted she’d ever not be surprised with the choice of words he picked. 

HE’S ROMANTIC. not just in love but with words and music, and well, everything he did. it’s hard to forget this man lived through the times of the greats. she’s surprised he never wrote a book OR LEFT PARTING WORDS FOR SOCIETY NOW AND LATER.

      “i don’t believe most poets would understand.” perhaps he speaks of her beauty or some underlying emotion, but she’s not even sure he’d understand and he’s older than she is. “but if anyone should understand, i suppose it would be them right?” EVEN WHEN HE DOESN’T REMEMBER HER, HE’S SWEET, AND IT MAKES HER SAD. no, the  proper term is home sick. “i’d ask how you’re alive again but i doubt it’s a stranger’s place.” YOU’RE NOT STRANGERS! her head screams and her heart, oh her heart echoes that statement. “unless you’re a drunken dream and i’m just imagining it… i suppose that would be a likely truth.” except she knows the dead can return  –  and she’s a prime example of such a thing. “so… sit down?” she suggests instead. yes, hayley can be demanding and pushy, and want to get to the bottom of things, but she’s supposed to be pretending he doesn’t know her and she doesn’t know him. “join me for a drink.” for another one anyway.

   it made him smile if even merely for a split second which only seemed to equate to a rather meaningless fragment of time in the bigger picture of the very world they existed within and yet it was the first R E A L  smile he’d made in quite some time. It lingered and grew — he almost felt at ease blaming that, and that alone, for the warmth that seemed to seep into his bloodstream and consume the very beat his heart made ( because that was important now ). Flesh, blood, and mortal. So mortal that he felt as if he could smell the very sent himself as if it lingered in ways that made him miss what he had been and desire things he felt less than polite should he choose to put them into words. He almost felt ashamed to admit that he felt as if he had been awarded a fine treasure; TO RETURN HOME. To find warmth, laughter — all of the simple joys that seemed to make him want to breathe harder: EXIST harder. and yet a sadness still seeped into each thought, muscle memory was nice until it no longer felt good but rather like you wanted to scream at your very soul for everything you were failing to see.

 He had no right to it; THEY WERE PASSING SHIPS and she was merely a reminder of something he desired and craved. ROMANTICISM.

 “ now you make a cause seem so —  DOOMED, ” he found a laugh at that, perhaps things were because his burdens and his life span surely made him feel the same. Maybe poets weren’t a fix and perhaps music merely drowned out the very noise in the back of their head: the crushing reminders of who they were and the issues that seemed to befall them but without any of it, life itself seemed D U L L. “  I’m certain a poet will write of it someday... ” an attempt to distract, though the way his features seemed to fall. The way he seemed to be recalling the trauma that had befallen him for the years he remained in torment, it was hard to keep such bright features even besides someone that seemed to encapsulate the sun. “ sad and maudlin tales of sacrifices, nothing any man should be remembered for. ” because he hardly deserved it; what he did deserve could hardly breathe life while he remained alive and away from the place that caused him torment. Had he battled with the idea of what his choice had truly been? for those moments before he fell silent and went to take his chance to repent. His answer was one he felt SHAME for. One that when uttered couldn’t be changed; he took his life not for sacrifice or for the idea that he was protecting his family but rather the burden of his broken mind — the idea that he deserved the end he’d had so long ago: that his failings had been set in stone. “ what it is we’re having? ” curious in general and as a well-designed distraction. He NEEDED it now and he also felt as if her choice of drink was merely the first stepping stone into figuring out more about her.

      henrik was never much of a LEADER of any sort. he guided people, when he had to. he tried to help them find their own paths and unravel their own mysteries. he didn’t push and he didn’t abandon. he helped people at their own pace. at least, he tried. this moment, this second, there was no time for his own pace. there was no time for forethought or consideration. henrik needed to move, he needed to lead, whether he liked it or not. his brother needed the help and he would provide it. of course, he would provide it.  

         he was grateful for the stroke of luck that was no one stopping them in the lobby. maybe all onlookers were simply used to the weirdness and craziness of san francisco. maybe they just didn’t CARE. in this moment, henrik couldn’t give a fuck about the people surrounding them. his attention laid on his brother. the brother who always had it together. who was tighty and well kept even as a viking. it hurts. elijah whimpered out such words, he was in so much pain… and for the first time ( the first time that he KNEW of ) henrik wished death upon another. a death he would carve out his with his own hands if it were necessity. whoever did this to elijah— he hated them with every last fiber of his very being. a hate he was wholly unfamiliar with before. “i’m sorry.” the words rolled gently off his lips, a calming tone trying to hide his own sorrows and furries. i’m sorry words that ultimately meant nothing at all. “i’m here.” he wondered, did those words mean nothing too?

             they arrived at his apartment, his eyes set on elijah the whole duration. the only time they left him was the moment in which henrik shut his door behind them ( last thing they needed was some stranger wandering in ). in the back of his mind he thought about how elijah wasn’t a vampire anymore. how he had never invited him in so he couldn’t be a vampire now because he slid in with such ease. there were so many things to address, henrik had little idea where to even START. eyes glittering down to his brother’s trembling hands, he decided. “we’ll clean you up, okay?” get rid of all that blood and stench, he could borrow a pair of henrik’s pajamas. the comfiest ones ( not that that made such of any difference ). firs tthing’s first though, to the bathroom they go. 

      a warm place that surely seemed hard not to fall into — had the youngest brother always been so... W A R M  ? this seemed an unrivaled question within his mind because while the Mikaelson family represented many things, warmth and kindness weren’t typically the traits associated with the varying version of reputations they had formed; he himself knew that far better than anyone. He had found himself both a hand in the worst tales and more often than not a guiding force so WILLING to forget the acts his brother made ( ones that even the devil himself would turn from ). Was Elijah Mikaelson a monster? he was. Maybe not traditionally. Certainly not in the way most considered monsters to act but regardless of morals or of integrity, he had been the sole cause of too many losses and ones that he could hardly bear to remind himself of. Henrik was UNTAINTED; people like him didn’t deserve hell or torture. He could almost argue he deserved the luxuries all the bad people took without a second thought  —  he hardly deserved to hold the Mikaelson title ( it represented bloodstained battlefields and crimson ashes ). His face seemed so faded, so emotionless and yet his eyes seemed to bare a far different burden 

to say that he’s been wondering and worried about elijah’s fate would be an understatement. first, there was tristan ( the very reason klaus started to look into the weapons that could be used against them, the very reason he ended up igniting finn’s paranoia and putting him in a coffin  —  once again ). then, there was that foreign face, that person ripped from a different time, a different dimension. in other words, it’s been SO LONG since he’d last seen elijah: his older brother, the father he never had, the one who was his anchor in a different way that hope was. and, after so long …  he can’t even rejoice in elijah’s sight. not when his voice sounds ghostly and choked and when he looks like every bad thing in the world fell and crashed upon him. it contorts his throat, fills his chest with a mix of FURY ( that someone did this to his family ) and PRESERVATION ( no matter what it is, elijah will be fine ; he’ll make SURE of that ). he moves toward the other, acknowledges right off the bat that something is fundamentally wrong ( there are only so few things that can bring an original to their knees ), and crouches next to the brother that he has to be a pillar of support for now. “ that is nothing requiring forgiveness, brother, ” he assures, a comforting squeeze given to elijah’s shoulder in tandem with the firm certainty in his tone ( proud, like a lion ). it only takes him a moment longer before his extended fangs pierce into his wrist, which extends then toward the brother that seems worryingly vulnerable. “ drink. first, we heal you. and then, you can tell me who did this to you. ”