V / In The Shadows. - Tumblr Posts

SHE DOESN'T STAY AWAY for longer than she must, curling instinctively back against laszlo’s side the moment the furry little thing has disentangled itself from her skirts. after months with a vast ocean forcing their seperation, nadja cannot bear to leave even a meager gap between them, one of her hands taking hold of the one that laszlo offers & lacing their fingers tightly together. ❝  if you were getting lonely here on your own, surely you could have found some more entertaining company to keep than these little beasts.  didn't the neighbor man come  &  check on you ?  i sent a raven to ask him to see that you were still bathing  &  eating. ❞  nadja had worried about her husband being left entirely on his own. without her, laszlo had a tendency to forego his own needs in favor of whatever whim had captured his attentions in that moment — usually some kind of pornography. but she had hoped that the strange thing that had escaped from the corpse of colin robinson for would be enough of a reason for him to keep himself functioning, especially considering it had been enough to abandon her to face london alone.  &  to her relief, it seemed that while the house has fallen into disrepair, laszlo has been able to keep himself  (  &  indeed, an entire herd of odd little beings )  alive  &  thriving amongst the manor wreckage.

still, nadja fusses over her husband. she simply cannot help it, free hand smoothing the wrinkles out of the undershirt he wears  &  running through the thick waves of his hair.  ❝ when is the last time you fed ? ❞  concern bleeds into her tone, pulling it higher in both putch & volume.  ❝ how many times have i told you — you need to drink at least one fully grown human every week. you want to keep your strength up, don’t you, my great beloved ox of a man ? ❞

     HOW HE HAD LONGED FOR HER TOUCH THIS PAST YEAR- THE LONGEST YEAR OF HIS ETERNAL LIFE. They had never been apart for this long. Of course, taking care of the boy had occupied much of his time, distracting him from the impulse to play the piano and wank until her return, or better yet join his darling Nadja in London. However, in the early hours of the evening when there was nothing to do but slumber beside the empty space where her coffin once stood, those were the moments when his aching heart became impossible to ignore. With her return those torturous mornings were all but a distant memory. Laszlo haphazardly kicked rotted debris to the side as they bounded up the stairs hand-in-hand. He only paused once at the sound of her voice, turning to her, and pressing a kiss against the back of her hand. “Every second away from you was a second too long.”

     The feeling of Nadja's tongue against his hand sends goosebumps up his skin. He shuddered, wanting nothing more than to be with her, inside of her. For one's pleasure to become the others--- and then she squealed, pulling away from whatever diabolical creature had temporarily broken the moment. His free hand reached out to steady her as a black and grey miscreant scurried out from under her legs and into one of its many newly made holes. Laszlo squinted at the raccoon. At first, he had tried to get rid of them, but it had been a lost cause. They were roguish creatures that seemed to procreate at an astonishing rate. He simply couldn’t deny the sense of comradery he held for creatures that liked to fuck as much as he did. “ They’re raccoons, my darling. They took up residence in the walls some time ago. That’s Rocket, Toby, and Mozart, ” he said, pointing them out one by one.  

@musecraft

      LONG AGO,  she might have told him he looked dashing — even regal.  &  nadja could certainly admit that he was still handsome, especially now that he was returned to his former self by the djinn's magic.  but the fact remained that staten island was an entirely different world than the one they had met in all those centuries ago, back when the baron had wielded broad power  &  influence  —  &  he had very little of either now.  & nadja almost feels sorry for him.   ❝ that's just it, baron :  no one really wants to look like a noble anymore.  in twenty twenty-three, the hot look is more sporty peasant.  it’s much better to be relatable, you know. ❞  &   she pulls up her layers of skirts to reveal a pair of air jordans underneath.  ❝ like these.  i killed a man in the park for these.  i think they really boost my street cred. ❞

❝ why are you dressed like a sad silk trader? ❞  — for baron from nadja sent by @musecraft​

     IT HAD ONLY BEEN THREE HUNDRED YEARS AGO when Baron had been setting the latest fashion trends. But now, it seemed, time had gotten away from him. The world was becoming an ever stranger place— the New World specifically was a very strange place. One where kings mingled with paupers and vampires assimilated rather than thrived. Baron shook his head incredulously, his fingers tracing tenderly over the finely embroidered silk. He already suspected the answer but felt compelled to ask anyway, “ Is this not what all the nobles are wearing? ”

      ❝ I NEVER SAID i don't love you. ❞ the baron should know by now exactly how carlisle feels for him, & so his anger does not dissipate with the obvious ploy for pity. if anything, it only runs hotter. ❝ it's like you don't even listen to me when i speak. i may as well discuss moral philosophy with a brick wall. you think you know everything one could possibly ever know already & that no one could possibly have a valid argument if it's from a viewpoint you don't want to consider. it's infuriating. you infuriate me. ❞ & yet, when he considers taking the suggestion & leaving, the idea is repellant to him. something nameless keeps carlisle here, an unseen tether compelling him to continue arguing with this man who he knows will never agree with him. for yet another long night just seems more bearable if they are together — even if they find themselves once again at each other's throats.

100  —  the chain  by  fleetwood mac - from @musecraft​ (carlisle) for baron

“ Go back to hiding in the shadows with your rats. Damn your lies. If you don’t love me now you have never loved me.”

@walkpathe ( aro ) — sent to carlisle : ❝ have I not proved to you my friendship? ❞

THE FIRST THING that crosses his mind is that friendship is for the humans, not their kind — that to bond with another being without some ulterior motive is an experience incompatible with immortality. but carlisle regrets the thought instantly, certain that aro will dislike the hesitation, no matter how brief. ❝ please do not misunderstand ; you have been very kind to me, & you know that i'm very grateful for being permitted to join you all here, ❞ he responds, head inclined to show he is earnest. there is no lie here, nothing to conceal. after being cast out for his so-called defects by his sire & his distaste for the baron's proclivities reaching a breaking point, carlisle had precious few places to turn. aro alone had welcomed him in, & the volturi had proven to be cultured & sophisticated by comparison to the baron's cult — if ultimately just as bloodthirsty. but at least here, the philosophical queries that tormented carlisle were not scoffed at. aro may have disagreed with his assessment of the mortals as beings of value, but at least he humored their dissent with debates in good faith rather than defaulting to mockery. but for what reason aro actually wanted him here, carlisle still couldn't say. aro's thoughts, at least, remained well guarded. ❝ i only fear that i may be overstaying my welcome here. i know that there are those in your guard who disagree with my ... alternative lifestyle. i wouldn't want to cause any undue stress within your court. ❞

     WHEN HE TAKES HER HAND, nadja expects to feel teeth sink into her wrist. for what could be more important to a newborn vampire than their thirst for fresh blood? she remembers that, too : the way that her throat had seemed dry to the point of pain only a few hours after her change had finished, & the way that water had only made her ill all over again. he must be hungry. but instead, he only kisses the back of her hand, the image of a perfect english gentleman even as he rises from his deathbed & steps into immortality.

                      the tender gesture is enough to surprise nadja into temporary silence. & he seems to take advantage of her shock to cling to her hand a little longer. yet though their fingers remain entwined, his bright eyes drift out of focus, as if he is distracted by something, or deep in thought. but when he poses his question, it makes nadja laugh, the outburst reminding her where her voice is.

     ❝ cure you? don't be ridiculous, laszlo. i didn't cure you, i killed you, ❞ she clarifies, her tone unapologetic. ❝ perhaps i should apologize. i didn't mean to kill you. really, i didn’t — it's just that i saw you through your window & you were so handsome. & then when you let me in, & i suppose it's possible that i got a little carried away in our lovemaking. your fragile throat simply couldn't handle my passion, my sweet. ❞ & now it is nadja's turn to shrug. as if it's her fault that mortal men were so lovely & yet so easily broken.

             ❝ but i wasn't ready to let you go, so i made you swallow some of my blood as you lie dying. & now you're a vampire. ❞ & then she grins widely, her red lips pulling back to reveal a pair of long, needle-sharp fangs. ❝ like me. ❞

     SHE WAS LIKE A LIONESS encroaching on her prey, moving faster than he would have imagined possible. Common sense would dictate that he should be afraid. But how could he be? The past few days were a blur of pain and fever of which he thought he might not survive. Yet through that muddled haze, he had felt her presence. She, a stranger who owed him nothing, had watched over him like a guardian angel. For the first time since childhood, he had felt safe. 

     Perhaps it was merely a side-effect of his prolonged sickness, but he found himself acutely aware of his surroundings. Lights seemed ablaze and the sounds of the occasional carriage rolling down the cobblestone path below his apartment were thunderous. But her touch, by mighty her touch, was more poignant than anything he had felt before. Despite having been indoors for quite some time her fingers were cold- though he did not find this unpleasant. He shifted his weight onto his knees so they met eye to eye and gently grasped the fingers pressed against his neck. “ Leslie. Leslie Cravensworth, ” with that he pressed a kiss onto the back of her hand.

     The faint smell of blood on her hand left him with the overwhelming urge to suck on her fingers if only to have a chance at a glancing taste. He pulled back, brows knitted together as he struggled to put the pieces of this strange puzzle together. This was all quite peculiar. Leslie was well-read on the latest medical literature however when considering all his symptoms from the past few days to present no ailment sprung to mind. What’s more, he had gone from being deathly ill to feeling as if he had been reborn. Did the maiden before him have anything to do with this? Leslie was not one to believe supernatural babble, but could this truly be a coincidence? It was impossible to say. His memories of their night together were patchy. “ I’m terribly sorry, my darling, but I don’t seem to recall much of anything. Last I remember you had me on the verge of climax and then- ” he gave a shrug. “ Not a damn thing after that. What was it that you did to cure me. ”