depalmado-blog

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Of The Hollow Men || Michael & Emery

I remember the first time I saw you…I had thought to myself that maybe being undead would be okay with you around…that maybe I had over-reacted, that maybe I could love you. But I was wrong. Once upon a time my name was Liliana, and we were to be wed.

His eyes had read over the letter a thousand times, maybe more. Ever since it had slid under Thirst’s door, during the waning hours of dusk, there had been little distractions that could pull him away from it. 

Your mother is fighting me as I write this, attempting to weave her way through my mind and commit a shameless crime against myself that will only bring my family name further into the ground. Why do you trust her so? Can you not see through her lies and deceit? Her control over you is incomprehensible. You must find a way to break the connection and quickly, or else you will forget again.

It held all the answers to the questions that had plagued him, yet raised more along the way. Though still, the foundation had been laid; the answers scribbled on this paper, written by a woman he once knew, someone he must have once cared for. 

I am sorry for the confusion that I have caused you in your life. But it seems that no matter where you go for answers you are only left with more questions, and that needs to end. Collette has been lying to you and your mother is the reason. Ask her more questions and she will not be able to detain herself. She loves you, Michael. Let her be a part of who you are.

Liliana was a name that circled in his brain, and he could just vaguely remember her like words on the tip of his tongue. He could see those green eyes, could smell her powerful scent as it filled the air, he could feel her flesh against his lips -- if only briefly. He could remember fire, and smoke. Brimstone burning against the trees as the sounds of screams punctured the air. He could remember the look of surrender on his Maker’s face, and hear his bitter words ringing in his ears... These fleeting memories corrupted and torn away from him, yet still the Elder grasped at them most hastily, more readily. She said he might forget again. She said that if he allowed his mother to continue spinning this tangled web, for whatever her reason, then the memories would slip between his fingers once more.

You may never remember the day we met as I have, and by the time you have finished reading this letter I will have passed into another life. But I have hope that you will discover such things in your own way. The amulet your received last year is a valuable piece of this puzzle. You will need to find a man named Brock and hunt with him to find out the truth of the pendant. It is from my people. Find them, find Rafael…find Babanel. Do not stop until you do. The crown can wait.

It had been long since the letter had landed in the Elder’s lap, but the words still clung to him. He would need to find the man called Brock, use him as the woman had said, and continue unraveling the secrets being kept from him. 

But they could all wait. They would all come with time.

As for your son, I believe him to be a strong King one day and I believe you should allow him on the throne. Your kingdoms are weak. To others you appear disposable and unreliable, and yet still you stay in the darkness afraid to find out the truth. Make alliances, make more progenies, grow the bloodline into something more vivid.

He placed a large sack down on the table of his child’s business; supplies he’d brought from Night Haven that the boy would need. He hadn’t told Emery about the letter, but there were things in there that struck a cord with Michael, forcing the ancient creature to reminisce on words he once told his own son: how he could never take the thrown, how his beast wouldn’t allow it.

Had he been mistaken?

I wish I had had the chance to speak to you one last time. But this is the ending of my story. Head my words or think nothing of it, that is your decision. I only wish you luck, Michael. Goodbye.

“I think this is everything.”

[depalmado-blog]

A Pride of Lions || Michael & Darius

England || 856 Years Ago

He felt heat in the pit of his stomach. A burning started somewhere inside of him, and slowly it grew, sprouting up through his limbs like a budding flower. The fire blossomed, letting its petals poke and prod at the lining of his organs, daring to puncture them if he moved in a way that disagreed with it. So the child, no older than three, remained still. He remained quiet through the searing, swearing to himself that it would be over soon -- just as his Maker had promised. The pain forced his muscles to tense, but he’d been scolded for allowing it to control him before, and so he pushed back. He relaxed each appendage, every tissue and fiber of his being. With closed eyes, the young prince accepted the agony; welcomed it until it started to numb his fingers and toes. Until it started to cause the stagnant blood in his useless veins to feel as though it flowed only downward. Only away from everything vital. 

And then suddenly, he inhaled. His limbs flailed and he gasped into the darkness, eyes darting open to be met with only the pitch black of the nighttime reflected in the large, stone tub. 

“That a boy. Come on out then.” The words were heard like garbled nothingness, but he felt the calloused hands of his Maker pulling his shirt and saving him from the water’s clutches, and it was then he knew that the pain was over. 

“Take a deep breath, boy. You’ll get used to not using those lungs eventually. Your nerves are still dying, it’s best we speed up the process.” 

Michael sat back on his knees, hair drenched and already causing a puddle around him on the roof’s floor. With a small groan, Babanel knelt beside him, putting a towel to his head to dry the poor child off. “There, there... You’re done for the night, I swear it.” The prince could tell that his new father wanted to apologize; that the word ‘sorry’ clung in the air between them just begging to be said. But alas, it never came. Perhaps it didn’t need to. Perhaps just feeling the emotion sweeping through the nearness of each other was enough -- spoke volumes rather than a simple sentence of wanted forgiveness. Nevertheless, Michael leaned into the towel and let his Maker dry his hair without a word. 

“Malcolm and Chandra are downstairs waiting for you. I won’t be coming tonight, but you knew that already. Sometimes there are just more important things to do than go out chasing dogs, m’boy. But it’ll be fun with the others. It’s time they met their future King anyway.”

At this, Michael pulled away and ripped the towel from his head. 

“Are you certain I’m ready for this? What happens if I make a fool of myself? What happens if I mess up and someone gets hurt?”

But the slight panic in his voice was met with a tiny, bearded smile. “You’ll do fine. You’ll be around Vampires much older than yourself, and it is their duty to keep everyone safe, not yours. Understand?” The child gave a small nod. 

“Good. Now get up, get dressed, and meet them down there. Don’t keep ‘em waiting.” 

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"They don’t dislike visitors,” the Elder began, wandering from the bar to eye the elfling more, “they just have a distinct taste for woodland folke. As I said, we don’t get many of you here, for good reason.” He smiled still, wondering what sort of fear might sink into the poor creature’s heart at the prospect of being eaten before the night’s end. But, before the smell of such an emotion could cloud the walls of his tavern, Michael spoke up to extinguish it. “You’re safe in here, though. No fighting happens within these walls, and if anyone gets hungry, I’m stocked well enough to feed them something that isn’t you. You’ll be fine.” 

He moved further, settling on a chair near the raised area of the tavern opposite the bar, nearest the giant window in the front.

“Being noticed in Brailston would be hard, even for a competent bard, my friend. The city’s too large, and the pubs are already filled with enough entertainment to last them a lifetime...” Michael’s voice trailed some, his dull green eyes looking on at the ‘stage’ of his business that had gone unused for what was probably years. He could not remember the last time music swelled from his tavern; always a ruckus with the sound of hearty, drunken, full chatter, instead. But, never music. Though, he knew why. Most of the people in Night Haven were not there because they were talented, inclined with a gift for the arts. No, most of them wound up in this forsaken part of Athoria for other reasons -- malicious reasons. Mortal bards would never dare tread this way, even if they knew the village existed. Humans were, for the most part, frightened of burrowing too deep into the woods. Going through trails they had not made themselves was likely out of the question.

A slow nod came, and a gesture for them to stand in front of him quickly followed.

“Of course, I would be honored to hear you play.”

lost rabbit | michael & aias

He began taking easy strides over to Michael, none the wiser to the hunger that laid behind Michael’s skin – hidden away to the public eye. He didn’t quite that much foresight – and his knowledge of vampires was minimal at best. Hell, he was still pretty sure the beasts were simply idle gossip made by humans to pass the time or explain awful murders that were left unsolved. He never met one in his life-time, that he knew of.

He easily relaxed in Michael’s presence, the man seeming kind and patient. It wasn’t often he met people like this, and for once, he was very glad. He felt drained of the ability to interact with people with a unfaltering smiling face. He needed a break, honestly – but he couldn’t afford that. 

“Do people here dislike visitors?” He asked, getting the wrong idea as he touched one of his own ears absently in emphasis, blinking at Michael in confusion. Elves weren’t that well known among Athoria,  even if their presence was definitely there. He had met a few humans who hated his kind, but it was usually out of instinct rather then any real deep seated reason.. That he knew of, anyway. Perhaps there was a conflict there? 

It’d didn’t seem like this person was bothered, however, which made his shoulders relax once more. So this place was called Night Haven? The name was actually quite accurate, considering how dark everything seemed to be around here. It was starting to look prettier when night fell, however, as the stars starting appearing in the sky. He perhaps judged the place too quickly, as the elf was prone to do by being so immature at times.

He really didn’t want to walk anymore for the night, so it sounded like he’d be setting up outside of town for the night. “Ah.. Yes, I was.” He smiled some, shaking his head. “No, no. I was just going to try and play in hopes of being noticed. Someone might have use for an incompetent bard somewhere, right?” He grinned, pulling his lute. It jostled against the flute that shared the the same space as the stringed instrument, hands resting gentle on the wood.

“.. Would you like me to play for you? I don’t have anything better to do.” His cheeks turned red in embarrassment at the proposal – perhaps he was being too forward.

[depalmado-blog]

He pulled the small box from his pocket after a few seconds of searching it, fingers digging into the interior of his pants diligently, and held it out for his Queen to see. The outside was rather plain, made of a strong light colored birch wood he had gotten off a kindred peddler coming through Night Haven, with only a tiny design on the top, reading something in Elvish perhaps -- he wasn’t sure. Regardless, it was not the exterior of the tiny box that mattered, but what was inside, which he was sure would make Cole’s smile blossom even more. 

Presents were a cushion. Whenever she was feeling low, he knew that a trinket of something new could lighten her mood. He knew that, as materialistic as she was, a gift could make everything suddenly feel easier; the load on her shoulders a bit lighter. At least, temporarily. They were decent distractions, and he was no stranger to indulging in distractions anymore.

“Oh! There you are, my Queen. Here is your gift.” He watched as he held the box out to her, noticing the glint in her eyes as the moonlight shown down on the two of them, gazing with a familiar boyish smile tugging at his lips. 

“The girl I bought it from said that it had belonged to another bloodline -- one of their Queens -- but that it had been stolen from her and so she cursed whoever wore it, swearing that it would return to its rightful place, no matter what.” Michael chuckled airily, opening the face of the box to reveal a sapphire ring with a band made of gold. Sapphires in those parts were rather rare; typically only found on the necks, arms, and fingers of mortal royalty, higher nobility, and upper-ranking clergy. They were rumored to have mystical powers, protecting the wearer against evils when harm threatened them...

When he had seen the jewel, never mind the lore behind it, he knew it had to be hers.

“Do you like it?”

Collette & Michael || I’ll Back You Up

She rolled her eyes and attempted, without success, to hide her smile; felt it seep through against her will as Collette tried to remain distraught. It was not her intention to bring about a sorrowfulness between them, but they had spoken about the matter so little since his return that it was difficult to hide that part of her. Especially there, by the tree where they had once shared so many memories together as well as by herself, reconnecting with their mother and searching for guidance during troubling times. It was a place where she vowed to be honest, and that did not dismiss tonight with Michael. Whatever she was feeling would be expressed, and though she appreciated his kindness in wanting to see her feel anything but the dreadfulness she exploited, Collette knew in her heart that tonight, for some reason, was more important than the others.

Gifts made everything better, in some small way. Collette was not ashamed of her need for materialistic things. She cluttered her walls with the most expensive art and littered her jewelry box with the most delicate of stones. Each item held a special place within her, a memory that she was able to reconnect with upon seeing. It aided her in remembering, for she had so many lifetimes that often they would become skewed and combined, blending together and making it difficult to recall which one went where. 

Collette turned to face him, her nose squinting with a stubbornness that reflected her truer personality quite well. Her lips twitched into a smile as she, too, crossed her arms across her front and mocking an impatient stature.

“Well don’t keep a girl waiting,” she grinned, eyes tracing the outlines of Michael’s face and her heart skipping at his closeness. There were miracles inside the hazel of his stare and Collette wanted to hold onto that purpose, claim it as her own and use it to become stronger. Letting go of Michael’s absence over the years was fanatically troubling, but she felt that so long as he was looking at her the way he was, saying the things that made her forget about the hardships, then she’d be okay. At least for tonight. 

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Nostrils flared as the giant Vampire breathed in deeply, stirring undead lungs from their sleep. He knew this scent well. He had dined on the richness of this one’s blood enough times to be able to tell what it was from its aura alone, and what it would undoubtedly taste like between his teeth. On the inside, he could feel the juvenile itching which made his Beast want to rush at the poor lost soul and suck the life from their still beating heart; leave nothing but an empty carcass to clean up when he finished indulging in carnage. But on the outside, Michael had far more control than all that. On the outside, he let only his Man show to the creature -- only a kind boyish smile on his lips, and a welcoming exterior to draw the thing closer.

“You’re only a little out of the way. Brailston’s just east of here, for a few miles. Not the longest walk ever, luckily. You’ve managed to find yourself in Night Haven. Not a place I often see people from your neck of the woods wander into. Probably for the best, though.” He smirked, though not with nearly as much malicious intent as his words alluded to. Teasing aside, so long as this woodland child stayed within the walls of Thirst, they’d be safe. As much as Michael liked the idea of plunging his fangs into their neck, others outside of the grey stoned structure would likely rip him apart and share his entrails as a meal with their family and friends. 

A much more gruesome, messier outcome he simply didn’t have the patience to deal with.

The Elder eyed at the lute on the elf’s back, nodding towards it. “Were you going to play that thing in Brailston? Is anyone going to miss you now that you’re lost?”

lost rabbit | michael & aias

His head snapped to the single person in the bar – who began to speak to him on instinct. That was comforting, at least – the man seemed kind with his patrons, treated them like family, even. He probably had owned the bar for ages to develop that attitude, even though the man didn’t appear to be very old. 

Perhaps it was a bar that had been within his family for a few decades now or something of the like. He shouldered his lute, looking at the inside of the building with curious eyes, before making a slight face. Gods, this place was just as dreary as the rest of the town. He had urge to go pluck some flowers and put them in here, somewhere. It just needed more life, more color. 

That was an immature urge, however, so he pushed it to the back of his head as something to do on a later date. He didn’t even know anyone from here – maybe it was for religious reasons or of the like. His thumb brushed the strap on his chest, watching the owner get distracted from his work when he looked at him. Aias blinked, staring down at himself in confusion. Did he really look so out of place? He wasn’t wearing anything particularly unusual.

Perhaps there was an unusual fashion trend going on within the village – Monir had habit to have the strangest trends at times. One time, women started wearing live birds in their hair! It was extremely strange, and the poor things were frequently frightened and.. Well, animals had a tendency to defecate when scared. People weren’t exactly above that law, either.

“No.. I think this is my first time being here. I got lost getting to Brailston. Do you know how to get there from here? “He asked quietly, looking put out by the idea of having to walk even further then he did today. He hated getting lost. “And what is this village called? I’d like to avoid offending someone in conversation when I talk about the ‘very grey, quiet village’ aways from Brailston.” 

He gave a soft, joking laugh – trying to lighten the, what seemed to be awkward from his perspective, mood. His ears twitched up, as he offered a tiny smile, brown eyes bright. He could play here, someday, maybe. It was a very nice looking pub, even if it was too dark. 

[depalmado-blog]

If we’re gonna die, bury us alive If they’re searching for us they’ll find us side by side

[depalmado-blog]

Home felt foreign at times, still, but he made the best of it. He didn’t look at the people who filled his tavern with the same heartfelt glances he used to, didn’t want to share in their good time as much as before, and altogether kept the people of Night Haven a comfortable distance. But he was certain that, slowly but surely, things would get back to normal for him That the weight that sat inside his stomach like a boulder threatening to crush his lungs would dissipate sooner or later, and he would be the same man they’d come to know -- the one who would greet them with a smile, something to drink, and a shoulder to lean on if they needed it. They were his people, after all. They were the ones who had lifted him when he was weak, cheered for him when he’d finally return to them, and passed no judgement onto him after having spent fifty years away. They were always there, filled with nothing but understanding to give back. 

Things would go back to normal. His head would quiet down, and his nerves would settle. Sooner or later.

The Elder hid his scar well. No one saw it, and so no one asked him what happened. No one pried into his affairs, and he preferred it that way to some extent. Yet, as the giant Vampire touched at the tissue that had formed and hardened where the arrow had plunged into him, he wondered how much longer he could carry that burden alone. He wondered how much more he could withstand on two legs, how much his tired bones would let him go on.

Michael took the rag from the bar’s counter and started cleaning at the surface again, pushing the worries away as he usually did. He could think about it all later. He could let himself be consumed with thoughts and questions, and pain, when the coma came. Not now. Not before the place even opened for the night.

He heard the front door open, and without looking up, began talking. “We’re not running yet, friend. You’ll need to wai--” Words cut themselves short when the smell swept up from the stale night air and streamed into the room. It poured like water down a river, bold and brash, consuming everything in its path until it burrowed into the grain of the wood that held the structure upright. It stuck in Michael’s throat, choking him with its vibrance; its thickness slicking the back of his mouth, coating it with how fresh and pure it was. As though the sun itself had wandered into his business. The old creature lifted his head slowly, savoring the taste in his mouth, swallowing it back with each gulp of saliva.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

lost rabbit | michael & aias

It had been a long walk travelling to Brailston, and his feet were aching and screaming at him to take a break, but the elven man was almost at his destination. He shifted, his things jostling around in his bag as he rolled his shoulder. He had a big smile until he got closer and closer to the location. It.. didn’t look like how it was said to look – however, it was his first time traveling to the Capital, so maybe people had exaggerated a good deal. it was so cloudy too..

He took a few steps into Night Haven, squinting down at the directions he was given. Oh.. Oooh.. He took a wrong turn.. or twelve… So.. Where was he? This was DEFINITELY not Brailston, and he didn’t exactly know how to get to the Capital from here. He gave a heavy sigh, walking further in. He’d have to ask for direction, which was not pathetic but also embarrassing. He’d swallow his pride, though, because he had no interest of wandering at all hours trying to find where he should be going.

 It looked like he’d be sleeping outside of the town for the night, but first he wanted to get his bearings. He feet hit the stone quietly, getting a few looks from the people who obviously lived here. This wasn’t unusual – some towns and villagers were unused to visitors, and predominantly  human villages would give a double take at his ears. He would cringe away as a child, but now he was old enough to understand and walk with maybe too much ease. he was a tad shameless.

He headed into the local pub — Thirst –, eyes wide and blinking. It was dark in here, too. Why was it so dark here!?

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"I’m here, Cole." Michael spoke quietly in an effort to reassure her, frowning a bit at the emotions that streamed through the space between them. This loneliness, this sadness, he waded through it with familiarity, knowing the two of them like old friends he never spoke of. He hated when he felt such dreariness off of her, the emotions radiating like the solar bursts that exhaled from the sun’s yawning. Be it her age, or the ferocity at which she felt at all, whenever his Queen let her emotions shine through he could always feel them as though they were his own. They bled through his skin and into his veins, consuming and fighting with his own various feelings until they tangled into a knotted web. 

She didn’t need to miss him. Not anymore. He had been in Athoria for months now, and it was where he planned to stay. But, if Michael were being honest, perhaps his wanting wasn’t enough. He knew his patterns. He could see himself for what he was, for what his past had turned him into: a rotten, stubborn giant who never seemed to be satisfied with his position in the world. But when it came to Cole, when it came to all that’d happened in these last fifty years, he felt to his very core that this could be different. That he could stay, settle down, and promise those who would listen that he could be fine with this and with them. He could accept just standing there on that hill, under the massive tree and night sky, with her.

“You don’t have to be sad anymore. I’m right here.” The Elder’s fingers traced her arm, touching her with the same tenderness as he could always muster in her company. He hoped that his own bits of contentment might be enough to cut her sorrow in half, attempting to will the emotion through hers that seemed to shadow his entirely.

Licking his lips, Michael straightened his back and folded his arms in front of himself again. “You know, I brought the Queen of Athoria’s Vampires a present, but you’re not her, are you? No, no -- my Queen is known for her beauty and her smile, and you’re nothing but frowns. So tell me, stranger, have you seen her anywhere?” He smirked at his own teasing and nudged her gently with his elbow. 

“Perhaps she’s tucked away in the manor still? I should go find her myself, huh?”

Collette & Michael || I’ll Back You Up

She could feel his eyes on her, and a familiar distraction of unbelievable yearning cascaded from the pits of her stomach and flush at her cheeks, igniting against the corners of her lips and protruding the most childish and loving smile she’d had the pleasure of experiencing in too long. With Michael she felt like another person, someone who was able to let go of her duties and simply live in this moment, appreciate the gifts of nature and love, and forget about the last fifty years that he spent overseas. Those feelings were important and made her feel more alive than she had in some time, made her want to run around the field and topple over in the becoming flowers, roll around until her dress was stained with dirt and grass. She wanted to be careless and carefree, set the world on fire for the beauty of it instead of its destruction. She wanted Michael, in every which way, in any form that the Gods above would allow her to have him, in her time of need and her time of friendship, in all aspects of her life she wanted him. 

Because she loved him, and that would never change.

She laughed at his remark, knowing fairly well that Chandra would have come anyway, with or without her sons blessing. The surprise was on purpose and Collette understood why she had wanted to keep it a secret. Not to frighten or dismiss Michael, no…to let him know that he was important enough to carry that piece of mortality, the element of surprise. Her visit was beyond sensational. Michael had much to be proud about in regards to his family.

Having Chandra within the manor made her society feel complete, and not only did the rest of her children adore the Queen from England, but Collette, also, felt that pull of sisterhood and family that had lacked inside her home. Collette had many loyal followers and among those devoted vampires she could chose many a friend. But there was something different about Chandra that brought Collette’s spirits alive, a piece of her that had been missing all these years. And it was stripped from her so quickly now, that Collette had to figure out how to keep the flame ablaze. She did not want to be lonely anymore; dreaded her halls when Emery and Rosemary had left as well. She wished for them all to stay forever, never to leave, eternally gracing her society with their presence and friendships.

“I missed her,” she admitted, her eyes shifting solemnly to the ground and finally meeting those of Michael. Collette was unable to let go of the past so easily, and still as she gazed upon him she could only feel tugs of loneliness and abandonment remind her that eventually he, too, would leave once again. “I missed you,”

[depalmado-blog]

Michael,

I remember the first time I saw you…I had thought to myself that maybe being undead would be okay with you around…that maybe I had over-reacted, that maybe I could love you. But I was wrong. Once upon a time my name was Liliana, and we were to be wed.

Your mother is fighting me as I write this, attempting to weave her way through my mind and commit a shameless crime against myself that will only bring my family name further into the ground. Why do you trust her so? Can you not see through her lies and deceit? Her control over you is incomprehensible. You must find a way to break the connection and quickly, or else you will forget again.

I am sorry for the confusion that I have caused you in your life. But it seems that no matter where you go for answers you are only left with more questions, and that needs to end. Collette has been lying to you and your mother is the reason. Ask her more questions and she will not be able to detain herself. She loves you, Michael. Let her be a part of who you are.

You may never remember the day we met as I have, and by the time you have finished reading this letter I will have passed into another life. But I have hope that you will discover such things in your own way. The amulet your received last year is a valuable piece of this puzzle. You will need to find a man named Brock and hunt with him to find out the truth of the pendant. It is from my people. Find them, find Rafael…find Babanel. Do not stop until you do. The crown can wait.

As for your son, I believe him to be a strong King one day and I believe you should allow him on the throne. Your kingdoms are weak. To others you appear disposable and unreliable, and yet still you stay in the darkness afraid to find out the truth. Make alliances, make more progenies, grow the bloodline into something more vivid. 

I wish I had had the chance to speak to you one last time. But this is the ending of my story. Head my words or think nothing of it, that is your decision. I only wish you luck, Michael. Goodbye.

- Emerald

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He stood there, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, watching her bathing in the moonlight with his arms folded across his chest. Her beauty could be so distracting at times, and he was sure by now that she knew it. Either that, or Michael was in a constant whirlwind of admiration when it came to Collette, by default, even after all these hundreds of years; a lovesick puppy who could do little more than gawk at her whenever she was nearby. He liked to think he had more willpower than that, more control over himself when it came to her. But of course, as he stood there in the nighttime, looking at her white gown catch in the breeze, it was certain the Elder had little to no control over the lust that clouded his mind when it came to his Queen. 

Her beauty was distracting. It made him ignore the faint smell of a dethroned princess which lingered around her skin. It made him indifferent towards the path he would be on in reclaiming his father’s blood in the upcoming months. Made him forget that soon after this meeting, he would eventually need to find Stephen and help bring justice to Alphonse’s murderer. The light from the stars and moon just ahead streamlined through the leaves of the great tree they were under, and the Elder was sure that her radiance almost made him forget that there was ever a world outside of that moment, somewhere beyond the two of them.

She was always so easy to escape into.

Michael shook his head. “No, I’m not upset with you. If I expected anyone to tell me, it would’ve been her, but alas...” He smiled a bit, shrugging his shoulders. He had excused not being told rather quickly, though only because his mind was already spread thin with everything else he had to worry about. Besides, his family’s visit was far from terrible. They spent most of their time at the manor, busy with their own affairs, and only coming by to see how Emery was with every spare chance they had. After Chandra had given Michael that silver key, he hadn’t truly seen her since. 

The Elder took a step forward, arms unlacing and falling to his sides, while his eyes traveled the curves of her figure in that dress. 

“I’d have probably told you to tell her not to come, and I think she knows that. Not that she would have listened, but...” Another shrug. He brought his hazel eyes back up towards her face, staring on while his Queen looked to the heavens. 

“No, Cole, I’m not upset.”

Collette & Michael || I’ll Back You Up

She stood by the willow tree, white gown catching the breeze upon the hill and flowing it around her luminous frame in waves of translucent beauty. All was quite on that hilltop; the groans from the dungeons were perfectly hidden by the depths of the earth, commotion from the manor was muffled and distant, and sobs from the graveyard were whispered and forgotten. There, underneath the grand tree that Collette had watched stem from nothing but a small sapling, she felt a peacefulness unattainable anywhere else in her large estate. It was here where Collette experienced guidance in its truest form from Mother Moon, soaked in the knowledge that was stored in the massive library of her mind, and balanced her wrong-doings with her right.

There was just something special about that tree.

Collette untied her hair and let the locks fly with the wind. Messily they tangled themselves around each other, and she pushed them out of her face with a content smile.

“Are you upset with me for not telling you?” she said to Michael, though the crystalline gaze from her irises stared up at the moon. Its mirage through the brilliant willow branches appeared majestic and unreal. Every star illuminated against the blackest sky tonight, adding a romantic setting between the two elder vampires. “You know how she is…I would have told you if she hadn’t asked me not to,”

Overall, Collette was satisfied with her presentation to Chandra. De la Nuit was worth showing off, and Collette believed Chandra to be impressed. It pained her to know it would be some time before they graced each other with their presence again. If it would not be for social reasons, then it would be for war. Becoming official allies with Chandra had been a large stepping stone for both kingdoms. 

Still, Collette could not shake away the feeling that Chandra had not told her all that she would need to know. There were so many things that Collette felt compelled to be informed of, and yet Chandra had kept to herself. Did she not trust Collette fully to the extend the gift of this alliance? Had Collette made a mistake in harboring Emerald inside the dungeons like an animal? Only to present her as such. 

Did she really expect Collette to keep her promise about Michael?

“I’m glad you came back,”

[depalmado-blog]

i just can’t live without you.

Emery & Michael.

[depalmado-blog]

Chandra tilted her head, feeling the slight warmth between their exchange come to light under the Moon. Collette's touch was an honest, favored one to the little Queen, that seeped through her skin and made her insides reach out with an ache for kinship. Once upon a time, she had always imagined a daughter among her family's halls; a young girl who would grow with love and beauty surrounding her. But alas, Babanel had been torn from her grasp, and the daughter she had loved through daydreams and fairytales never came to be. In some ways, though, Chandra looked at Lady Markham with motherly eyes. Saw her as both a friend and a daughter she could rely on, no matter the task needed to be met. Perhaps that was why her union with Michael was something she felt so strongly about, something she rallied behind so easily.

She remembered the night the tall Queen spoke of well. When they had frowned in each other's company, and listened to each other like age old friends. With Chandra cooing into the dim lights of the cathedral walls, fingers raking gently through the child's hair, trying to subdue the sadness between them while she spoke of Michael. The words were still true, still what she honestly believed, deep down. That no matter where her youngest son found himself, he would always have the will of his father inside of him, every step of the way.

“I understand,” the small Queen spoke, quietly at first as the thoughts traveled around her head, plucking words from them carefully. “You have done more than enough for me, Collette -- honored my family in ways I may never be able to repay you for. I know what I ask of you; I know the burdens it carries, and I know what more it will bring. Do not lie to him, but evade what you can. That is all I ask. He has not faced what we have faced, walked the politics of this world with his head held high for very long... he simply would not be able to understand. Not at first...”

She moved her hands from Collette’s, and cupped the blonde Queen’s cheek gently. "You will keep me informed about your guest when I return home, will you not? I trust you will continue to ensure she stays out of the way.”

Watch The Earth Come Up || Chandra & Collette

In a kingdom there was but one leader; a monarch to rule them all, may it be of human or supernatural descent, the politics were the same, the government still radiant against the true King or Queen. Lineages were potent and pure, vast and varied from bloodline to bloodline, where children were adopted to other families or simply raised to believe they were nothing special, nothing so distinct. Blood from the fallen reflected within those that still stood proud against their family name, who held their banners high and mighty, as if it were all they had left. And, for most, it was. Collette was not unfamiliar with the decisions of a monarch, and she was not unfamiliar with being the last of her piece of the bloodline still to this day, over a thousand years later. And as she looked into Chandra’s eyes she saw a reflection of what damage a bloodline could truly be to a Queen without a son to claim the throne, who would rather follow his own kin to Athoria and dig through the roots of his past in search of something tangible to hold onto, something that spoke of fate. She did not envy the burden nor wish to acclaim the troubles on her own shoulders, if even to do so as a friend or partner, as an ally to England. But being Queen rarely allowed for friendly decisions. She would have no choice but to comply.

Collette looped her arm within Chandra’s and lead them on through the small field and towards the back of the gardens. She was unable to answer her right away; the heaviness of such a continued lie and the boldness behind their secrecy was damning, and almost unbearable. Her thoughts raced like wildfire, spreading through her mind and only seeming to wrap themselves around the memories of Michael. 

"Do you remember when I came to you when Michael had left? I had arrived and I found you sitting inside that cathedral, the very place I swore I would never visit again, yet there I was walking in as if I had never left. And you took my hand and you told me how incredibly sad you were that Michael had left, but also how proud of him you were. That no matter where he went or who he found, that Babanel would guide him, keep him safe, and eventually he would find his place. He would find home,"

Collette sat down on the wooden swing under a canopy of dead roses, and although the flowers were withered and crinkled against the wind it appeared a ghostly beautiful scene for the Queens. She took Chandra’s hands within her own and rested them on her knee, a distant gaze caressing the backs of her blue eyes. 

"Michael came here, next. He found this manor, he found a home, he found me," She pressed her lips together, eyes darting up through the flowers and to the moon resting right above them. "I have kept things from him that could change his life, even though I do not have all the answers. I need you to understand how incredibly hard this will be. I will not be able to lie to him, I cannot. I will not. But if this is something that is necessary for your sake, and for the sake of our kingdoms, then I will do this for you,”

[depalmado-blog]

There were times in her life when her mother would reveal things to her. Times when no other Vetala were around to overhear. Under the comfort of the Moon, exchanging quiet whispers, there were haunting stories of interpersonal plights threaded into her mind, woven there for safe keeping. Stories of other Vampyric bloodlines, whose havens lurked inside of caves that bore deep into the earth. Of Wolves, who hunched along the forest floor on two legs, standing as tall as oak trees. Or witches, who bathed in the night sky and sacrificed their souls to any dark lord that listened, simply for eternal life. There were times when her mother's voice would ring like a small bell, chiming through the depths of her consciousness to explain what she was -- who she was -- and where she would one day stand in this world. Yet none of the stories sufficed. None of them properly prepared her for what would come. None of them would explain away the gift of control that allowed her to bend the minds of others so fluidly. None of them would explain why, or how, she would ever be able to escape the downward spiral that would befall her people long after the demise of her blessed, war-driven mother.

There were times when her mother would tell these stories, attempt to make sense of a senseless universe, and a frown would tug at the edges of her lips; vague, yet a stark enough contrast to the permanent grimace that normally hung there, that a once-young Chandra could see it plain as the Moon.

That is what she thought of when Emerald spoke -- her mother's frown, her mother's words of wisdom that had once fallen on deaf ears still too young, too new, too naive to understand.

ईविल कई रूपों में आता है।...

When Collette touched her arm, she inhaled as though being rattled from a dream. Chandra stared with widened eyes at the woman as she relayed what information she could, and let them weave themselves in the same spots of her mind that held all of those stories, until they intermingled into one cohesive force. Perhaps, after all these years, this was what her mother meant to explain. The unseen powers that moved each player along, that provided motive and obligation, that threatened to undo everything. Perhaps, after all, it was always so obvious...

The Queen nodded, staring down into the cell once more with slight vacant eyes. And then, without speaking, she moved to turn away and headed down the corridor for the stairs.

_____

It was only until the two were free from the smell of such a crypt, and a safe distance from prying minds, that she finally spoke.

"Michael will come for her, you are right. Sooner or later, that stubborn boy will find out who she is, and everything I have worked towards will have been in vain." 

The short woman stopped walking entirely, eyes then lingering towards Collette. 

"So, we will stop him. If Michael thinks that chasing ghosts is a proper hobby, we will give him a different one to chase after. I cannot explain to you yet, but I will send you a package when I return to London -- open it only when you are alone. Once you have gone through it, reach for me and I will answer." She gazed earnestly up at the tall Queen, hands balled into fists that dug into her palm at the idea of sharing such things -- of burdening Lady Markham with such a weight. But she had no other choice, no more options left at her disposal. Emerald may have wanted to play this game, but she was daft to think that every pawn on the field was not at the mercy of England's Vampire Queen.

"Will you do this for me?"

Watch The Earth Come Up || Chandra & Collette & Emerald

She had spoken more words in that hectic moment than she had all winter and although her tone was fierce and the stale look inside those dead hazel eyes were fighting against her instinct, Collette could not help but smile. It was a matching definition of mystery to the one coating Emerald’s own, yet it held a more distinct power of malice that Emerald did not possess. The sight of her ragged and broken inside that cell made the insides of Collette giddy with sadistic satisfaction. To know that she would rather die than fail at her placement inside the vampyric world again gave Collette a temporary burst of prideful arrogance. The urge to rip off the door to that cage and implode her fist through her chest, only to squeeze her vital organ between her fingers until the true, permanent death seized her dying corpse was electric and tempting. To speak to Chandra that way, to speak at all…if there were a moment where Emerald deserved death than this was surely it.

"Are you finished?" Collette asked with a sarcastic twist of her lips. As much as the Queen wished to snap back, correct Emerald’s words to reshape into ones that were more plausible, she only rolled her eyes instead. What little words Emerald did pronounce while imprisoned had been all but similar; she was true to her cause, yet her cause was not true to her. And never would it be, so long as Collette and Chandra still reigned over these lands. They had worked too hard to create armies that could slay over a thousand demons, scare off covens of witches and warlocks, frighten the angels and send the ghosts back to Limbo where they belonged. Centuries had these Queens plummeted through their own versions of disgraces and fought against ancestral law in hopes of combining the perfect kingdoms with the perfect sacrifices, and it would not end over one, dishonorable elder who wished to see her own agenda become more important. Collette would not allow it. She would rot inside that cell until she pledged herself otherwise.

Collette placed her hand on Chandra’s arm and felt the radiation of emotions seething from the smaller Queen. She turned her attention to Chandra. “Apparently Emerald has a history with the wolf, Shiloh. She knew of his importance to the pack in England and shared what I’m sure was a very pleasant night with him. Michael and Shiloh as you can imagine are not as friendly, though they shared an empathy link together where her name was released. Emerald was going to confront Shiloh, but I got to her first. Her mind was strong at first but over the last few months I’ve been able to break it down more delicately. There is a demon named Adarna involved who was running errands for Emerald and giving her information of Emery’s whereabouts. Which I told her,” Collette glared at the prisoner, “to leave alone the last time she was in shackles,”

She stepped away from the cell and paced a bit, her mood changing sourly and dramatically at just the sight of Emerald in general. 

"I will keep her here until she proves to me that she is no threat. Unfortunately she is right about Michael; you will need to tell me how to handle this should it arise. As of now, he knows nothing but her name, and not her true one. In the meantime, let us leave the presence of this whore," 

[depalmado-blog]

It was the green that caught her attention. Had the small Queen been mortal, it would have frightened her out of the forest altogether, had her running home scared and telling the stories to equally worried commoners. But she had followed the smell of magick in the air, had traced it from the village of Night Haven to this very spot, and waltzed with glee towards its powerful source. Such a strange little thing, she thought as she moved quietly through the brush and took steady footsteps towards the glowing light. Such a sway the gifted girl had to bend the tress around her, to alter what nature had created of her own will, and to let its energy soak through her like water dampening cloth. 

It had been years since witchcraft had been a part of her life, and longer still since she had used the curious gifts taught to her by Vetala handmaidens. To smell the ability, to wander towards a space that bloomed in the nighttime with remarkable talent and influence -- oh, how blessed she was.

Chandra held her hands behind her back, tilting her vision upwards towards the hole the young witch had made out of the once mangled canopy of branches, and she smiled warmly. Her body leaned against one of the trees just a yard or two behind her grandson's wife, and looked on with genuine awe pouring from her gaze.

"In my homeland, they call your kind, daayan. They are witches with a close tie to the mother goddess, though far more gruesome in nature, allegedly. But, stories about powerful women told through the vessels of men always tend to demonize them in one way or another. It cannot be that women are simply capable and powerful, they must first be condemned for it."

She spoke softly in attempt to not spook the poor girl. After all the witch had gone through, it seemed only fair if her response was to jump up and run far, far away, though the youthful looking Queen hoped otherwise. 

"I have been waiting a long time to meet you, young lady. Fifty years, I believe. I must say, I did not think I would ever get the chance, what with you locked away in the bowels of wandering, unclaimed souls, but here you are. My grandson is most resourceful -- when he needs to be."

The short woman wandered a bit closer, leaving the awkward little circle untouched by her presence so as not to spoil the richness of its energy. 

A Mother's Love || Chandra & Rosemary

Although the moon was not quite yet full, Rosemary was busy at work preparing for her monthly spell. Normally this periodic ritual was met with tiresome indignation, as she normally forgot about the full moon until it had either already passed or realized with only an hour or so to spare. This forgetfulness was only natural as she had never quite fallen into the routine of specific spell work, and on any other occasion she very well may have forgotten the up coming moon. But this time was different. She felt something in the pit of her stomach, something that both troubled and confused her. 

Something was on the horizon, but what, she did not know. Good or bad, only time could tell. Rosemary hated not knowing, what good was a sixth sense if it did nothing more than taunt its master with troublesome paranoia. Whatever it was, the witch was taking no chances. With the full moon she would cast her spell, banishing negativity and drawing in protective energy for the month. The act was certainly no cure all, but a little luck and prosperity never hurt anyone. 

For the ritual, an open circle would have been preferable, but so rarely was such perfection found in nature. The closest Rosemary had come was a wobbly oval like shape elegantly situated between five of the oldest trees in the area. Since the spot was so close to her home, the woman could not resist using this location for her most intimate of rituals. Tying back her hair with a red ribbon, the witch collected her homemade broom and began sweeping away the months debris of nature’s passed, stopping here and there to toss a few rocks and broken logs out of her makeshift circle. 

With her clearing finally free of clutter, the woman planted the end of her broom into the soil at the base of the first tree and cut a straight line through the earth from tree to tree to form a pentacle. Once complete, Rose pulled a satin wrapped parcel from her bag, running her fingers over the coveted fabric a moment before pulling a dagger from within. The blade was small but effective, one of the few things she still had from her previous life with Emery. It was nothing extravagant and had signs of age from lack of care over the years, but with the ties it held to its owner, it was perfect for both magic and self defense. 

Taking a soft breath, Rosemary pressed the tip into the trunk of the first tree, carving her symbol for the spirit and continued to the other trees with the marks for earth, water, air, and fire. Once completed, the witch sat herself down in the center of the star and looked up to the thick canopy above that blocked out the light of the moon. Closing her eyes, Rosemary lifted her hands in front of her, allowing her palms to fall limp and her fingers to curl, facing down to the ground below. Focusing not on her energy, but the natural auras of the world around her, Rosemary began to slowly raise and lower her hands, making a wave like motion with her fingers as if pulling at the invisible substance. 

A delicate green tinted light filled the crevices she had dug into the ground in the moments prior, the pentagram filling with a gentle soothing light that snaked up the trees in slow vein-like pathways. Exhaling slowly, the witch curled her hands into fists and pressed them together as if praying and, with a gentle whisper, asked the trees to accept her request. Then, Rosemary opened her fists, stretching her fingers wide and pulling her hands apart. The mangled branched above reacted as though they and the girl were one, turning and twisting themselves apart as did her fingers, curling back and spreading wide to let in the light from above.

The woman tilted back her head, holding her position as the energies flowed through her, every vein and twisted branch becoming one as the nearly full moon poured into the clearing.