#ddyme

The Volturi Palace was a fortress of fictitious civilisation & culture. The castle blended with Volterra's prototypical medieval architecture — weathered stone, arched windows & imposing doorways, innocuous yet elegant. Mortals that passed through the historic town centre formed part of the mystical narrative, an ancient town known for sightseeing & artefacts with little on record about the supernatural that lurked beneath. The interior was even more breathtaking, in truth. Massive stone columns, tall marble walls carved with Latin inscriptions, three thrones raised on a platform. It was the intention to imitate royalty, after all.

Kolviður wasn't charmed mindlessly by silk gowns & posh wine — he was raised along the tortuous rivers of Vestfjorden, in the harsh, cold camps of Svolværgeita, a brutality most in these parts of the mainland hadn't come across. The Volturi were... Needlessly extravagant. The self-proclaimed immortal council sat in their thrones behind the cover of chic functions & dominant protectors — they'd lived this way long to forget any amount of reasonable struggle. Kol had little in common with this lot, aside from their unshakeable desire for power... Perhaps enough to unite them.

Didyme was the reason the Nordic vampire hadn't yet gouged out his eyes & fled across Europe without a glance backwards. He'd joined his new coven through a mixture of desperation & self-preservation — Mikael & the others were hunting him as punishment for his departure & wouldn't stop until he was lifeless. The Volturi offered protection, even if it was temporary. ❛❛ My lady, ❜❜ he whispered with sarcastic undertones, keeping his voice quiet while almost bowing his torso. Kolviður had been trusted to guard her, though it was more through manipulation than grace. He could feel something tugging at his mind, warping his intentions, controlling his emotions... Something he couldn't stop. ❛❛ They told me you needed the most handsome escort in the palace to accompany you. Well, I just couldn't resist. ❜❜

even when he sat there like a pile of fur and frozen bone,   Caius was nothing less than regal.     even then,   surrounded by different kinds of death,   he found a home;     a throne.     do you think I am a fool?     the short answer would’ve been yes,   but winter slowed him down,   and parting lips didn’t deliver the insult like a snake striking.     she was young,   she was in love,   and saw her tomorrows as bright as they could be.     there were flower petals in her mouth,   and buried deep inside her lungs;     they made her all pastel-colored and gentle.     a fool. 

Caius doesn’t catch himself thinking about her in past tense as she stands before him.     instead,   he takes a minute to ponder,   to form an answer as far from his heart as he can————the way he lied to every wounded soldier he’s ever met,   bleeding out upon his lap. 

             ❛   𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑  𝐈𝐒  𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇  𝐓𝐎  𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄  𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐌𝐀𝐃 .   ❜     she   has   seen   first   hand   what   power  can  turn  a   person   into .    how   it   seeps   into   your   very   bones   and   the   𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖚𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓   eats   you   from   the   inside   out   ;     twisting    you   into   something   unrecognizable   to   those   around   you  .    by    then    it   is   far   too   late   to   do   anything   to   stop   the   chaos   that   they   will   unleash .     ❛   even   still    —-    there   is   no   guarantee   that   you   will   be   able   to   stop   them   from   𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆   everything   around   them .    ❜

‘ talk to me. ’   -  @ddyme

                 he    couldn’t    bring    himself    to    look    at    her,    eyes    glued    to    the    ground    like    a    child    expecting    a    reprimand.    his    own    frustration    was    eating    him    alive,    causing    him    to    be    deeply    buried    in    his    own    thoughts.       it    had    been    days    now.       he    barely    spoke    -    only    when    being    addressed    directly,    wandering    aimlessly    through    their    home,    pondering.    marcus    knew    that    didyme    noticed    the    shift    in    his    behaviour    but    he    was    so    used    to    dealing    with    his    thoughts    on    his    own    he    found    no    proper    way    to    share    them    with    anyone,    not    even    with    her.    

                   @ddyme  /  didyme        :      “ who do you think you are? ”

TWILIGHT     FILM     FRANCHISE     PROMPTS

                                                     👫 for 4 headcanons  // accepting *!

I.   while alec truly considers all of the masters and their wives his parents, he finds didyme to be the closest thing to a traditional mom he has with the volturi and a strong substitute for his real mother. after a few centuries, she basically is his real mom since they’ve been like that for so long. he loves her dearly and would protect her at all costs. she is one person he might actually die for.

II.   alec loves her love for the arts. he enjoys seeing her sketches and paintings but even more so loves to design and construct things for her to paint and sketch. one of his favorite things to do is design a room and an outfit for himself to pose in and allow her to go to work painting or sketching him. he’ll do this for the others too but he prefers it being himself because he likes to spend the time with his mom.

III.  when alec can feel himself approaching an anxiety/panic attack or an absolute meltdown, he begins to spend more and more time with didyme not just because he hopes her power can suppress it, but because she is one of the very very few people he will allow to see him vulnerable and trust to help him in such a helpless state