#desiresuffering

suddenly bella is surprised that he is surprised. the thought catches her off guard, with a small flicker of something warm and unfamiliar unspooling in her chest. she watches him turn the small velvet box over in his hands, watches the play of light across his features, and realizes she hadn’t expected this reaction, but neither had she expected her reaction to his surprise. she has heard the whispers, of course. vampires gossip just as much as humans do, perhaps more so given the centuries they have to fill. she’s heard the stories about armand ⸺ the rumors, the fear that follows his name like a shadow. she is aware of what he’s capable of. knows what others say about him when they think she isn’t listening.

but he has never been anything but kind to her. never has talked down to her, doesn’t treat her like a fragile thing to be managed or dismissed. he looks at her with recognition, like he sees something familiar in her. bella has found she doesn’t have to over-explain herself to him, armand seems to simply understand as though having lived through the same.

“you mentioned it once. in passing, really.”　but regardless how mundane and inconsequential such comment was, when she saw the ring she thought about him. about the way he carries himself, the way his eyes catch the soft lamp light, the ethereal quality to his very soul that speaks of belonging to a different era. she lets the silence breathe for a moment, her gaze dropping to the box in his hands nervously waiting for his feedback on the gift ⸺ a trinket, really. she’d found it in a dusty antique shop three towns over, tucked away in a glass case that hadn’t been opened in what looked like decades. a solid gold band with intricate filigree winding around its surface in an infinity pattern, three rich cabochon rubies set into the metal like drops of blood frozen in time.

“i hope the sizing isn’t too off. i just thought it looked like you would enjoy.”

　　⋆ ˚ ࿔ ✧ ˖ ° .　　 @desiresuffering　　／ 　　prompt.

carlisle had encountered countless vampires over the centuries, but armand carried power with the sort of quiet certainty that made even immortals pay attention. “ to what, ” he asked evenly, “ do I owe the pleasure of your visit? ”

she tilts her head, considering him, and there’s something almost soft in the way she holds his gaze. armand has never made her feel like she needs to explain herself ⸺ not in the way that most people do, not in the way that makes her feel like she’s performing for their approval. not in the way most, undead or alive, could not say they have experienced themselves.

“i think people aren’t uncomfortable with silence,”　she responds, her voice carries that particular flatness that isn’t disinterest but thoughtfulness, most of her attention still caught in the back of her mind as she processes the thought rather than dedicated to the performance of how the thought is said out loud.　“i think they’re uncomfortable with people. silence just forces them to sit with that reality for a moment.”

she’s curled into the corner of a worn leather armchair, knees tucked beneath her in a way that suggests she’s been there for a while, settled into the space like she belongs there. it’s a rare thing, this ease. bella swan doesn’t take it for granted.　“or maybe that’s just me projecting,”　she adds quickly after, there’s a flicker of dry humor in the words.　“hard to tell sometimes.”

her gaze drifts to the window, to the way the street light begin to filter through the glass in as the sun begins to set in the horizon, soft and golden and temporary. she’s always been good at noticing the temporary things, perhaps that’s why she’s so drawn to the people who aren’t. she lets the silence breathe for a moment, lets it become comfortable rather than awkward, before she speaks again.

“silence can be nice too,”　her voice is quieter now, almost surprised by her own honesty.　“not having to fill the space. not feeling like you have to perform just to be tolerated. if you can sit in silence with someone, that is a good sign i think.”　she shifts slightly, crossing her legs trying to find a more comfortable position. a gesture that feels natural rather than guarded. she’s not used to feeling this at ease with anyone, immortal or otherwise, but it is difficult not to feel disarmed by empathy when looking at someone whose experiences mirror her own so very closely. with armand, bella feels she doesn’t have to be anyone other than what she is. broken edges and all.

“i think that’s why i like talking to you. or not talking, your silence is cool too.”

　　⋆ ˚ ࿔ ✧ ˖ ° .　　 @desiresuffering　　／ 　　prompt.

apathetic eyes watch from the wings. yet another performance. on and on it goes -- eternity had never felt so long as it has this last decade with the théâtre des vampires. the audience roars , laughter and disgust in equal parts , and eleni finds herself utterly bored. perhaps her disinterest accounts for the fact she is no longer cast in their productions , though she knows if she insisted @desiresuffering would have no choice. the deed to the building belongs to her , she is the keeper of this little coven. more maître than he who more and more often these days dons the title.

against her will , she thinks of nicolas , his crazed eyes catching the light of the flame as he burned. was it her age or love that allowed her to stare unblinking into the fire that night ? oh , how ten years have crawled forward on bloodied and splintered fingertips. and yet she can see him as clearly as she can see the actors on stage now. in some ways clearer. for his action was not simply a charade. no , what she sees before her now is mere mimicry , imbued with meaning as shallow as the words once spoken as gospel to the children of satan.

The corners of his lips twitch in a brief flash of a smile before falling back into a grim line as usual. He continues to shuffle through his papers as if he had never reacted at all, making sure everything is in order as he always does before he leaves.

"Expediting my death doesn't hasten the inheritance of those not in the will." He looks up at Armand pointedly before returning to locking up his desk. "Besides I don't need to kill myself, it's already being handled for me, why add another thing to my list of things to do?"

He leaves his desk to join Armand in the center of his townhouse's office. He preferred his office at the castle but there were complaints about the quaintness of the area and he was nothing if not enough of an acceptable host to not make gossip.

Jasper looks up. He had been reading, feet up on the table in front of him and enjoying the peace when Armand made his decree. He raises a scarred brow. No one had ever claimed before that Jasper lacked for challenges. His history was nothing but a string of challenges and hardships, his body was a testament to the conflict he had to survive. Now those same testaments made it nearly impossible for him to live in the world quietly in anonymity. Solitude was a nightmare, crowds made him sick. He was unable to trust his own kind and too well trained to kill to be around humans. But he lacked challenges.

This had to be good.

Jasper closed his book, folding his hands over it in his lap, and gave Armand his full attention, fascinated about where this might be going.

' that's cute. ' jacob scoffed softly as he looked at @desiresuffering. those tiny little fangs -- he'd seen bigger on vampires. he looked like a little kitten. it made the wolf laugh lightly , not even trying to contain it. but perhaps it wasn't wise ; not towards this one. he smelled ancient -- old. hm... ' thought you'd have longer ones. '