#countlessmuses

              it will certainly take some getting used to, she thinks: being royalty. she doesn’t feel like it. some mornings, she wakes expecting to find herself back in her attic bedroom, waiting to hear the incessant ringing of the bells, recent events naught but a childish dream. your highness does not sound like a title meant for her, & so there is a light blush on her cheeks, in spite of the small, pleased smile that graces her lips, when she replies: “just ella will do, i think.”

When Anya and Dmitri returned to the palace after the fight with Rasputin, the ball was still in full swing.  Her first instinct was to go speak with her grandmother, but then she realized what condition her dress was in.  She looked as if she had been attacked.  If someone found Dmitri near her before she had a chance to explain what happened, then they would immediately assume it was him... well, maybe not her grandmother, but everyone else.  And that would bring their fun to a full stop.

So, instead of returning to the ball, Anya went upstairs after saying goodnight to Dmitri.  She changed out of her dress, setting it aside as she got dressed into something a little bit more comfortable.  Her tiara was now in its box as she put the dress back onto its mannequin.  It would likely be taken tomorrow to be altered and repaired, now that she had battled a supernatural being in it.  And, after that, she sat down in a nearby chair, staring at it, thinking over the last day, the last days.  How much things had changed for her.

“Well too fucking bad,” Nathan snapped shortly. He slid his mug of coffee further away out of Nick’s grasp, his hand curling protectively around it. “If you want coffee, you’re gonna have to go get your own. I need this, and you’re not injecting it into your blood, you addict.” Then, just to rub salt into the wound, Nathan chugged a large gulp of coffee.

          NICK’S EYES FOLLOWED the coffee as it slid away from him, and when he looked up at Nathan, their brightness betrayed how incensed he was. They narrowed when he took the gulp of his coffee- what kind of monster enjoys something right in front of someone else in need? If Nick was dying of thirst, would Nathan take a drink of water right in front of him, too? What an asshole.

Lang’s mouth dropped open. He was about to say something else, when he crossed to the other side of the table. Two things made him hesitate. The first was, well, the man’s eyes. They appeared cloudy, not at all like normal eyes. And that made Lang think that maybe he couldn’t see.

The second was the scent--familiar, like that of other werewolves he’d briefly come across.

Both of those things made him close his mouth and feel absolutely sheepish for being a dick. “My stuff’s here,” he said, as if that justified it all. And maybe it did--he picked out the spot, put his bag there and his books--but it wasn’t the point any longer. 

Casey could relate to that lesson. After all, hadn’t her father taught her to fight, to stand up? But over the years, she’d also learned that some battles were too big to fight. Sometimes, it was best to run and live to fight another day.

And maybe that was what Dante should’ve done. But he hadn’t and she jumped in to fight off the vampires, killing a couple of them and sending the others packing. Her only question now was why were they picking on him? What had he done to warrant such an attack?

She’d find out later.

time for word vomit // @countlessmuses

“No- no, Nick, I can’t!”

“C’mon now, don’t sell yourself short. You’re fine- I’m not expectin’ you to be perfect your first time. Please, just humor me?”

Nimble fingers wound calmly around Linc’s hips, settling there in stark contrast to the seemingly frenzied hands clasping around his belt. 

“Nick, no- I can barely handle the waltz, I step on your feet all the time!”

“And do I complain ‘bout it? C’mon, swing’s fun, I promise. It’s just rhythm, that’s all. Don’t worry ‘bout it, your feet ain’t gonna crush mine, we’re both barefoot and you weigh like two pounds. I’ll lead, just follow me.”

There were more disgruntled noises from the other; Nick had figured he would be nervous about trying a new type of dance. He practically had to get on his knees and beg Linc to try to waltz with him, but he was stubborn, and he wasn’t going to let Linc get away from him without taking at least five seconds to swing.

“Just trust me. It’s not difficult, if it was difficult I’d leave you alone ‘bout it. Please?”

“… Fine, but only if you help me decorate the cookies tomorrow. And no, you can’t sneak frosting.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll smack you with a rat tail if you do.”

“I won’t.”

A huff before those hands finally relaxed, at least a little bit. “Where do we start?”

“At the beginnin’, of course. Put your hands here…”

   jfc Apollo   

nick: my turn

nick: