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Beste Kokdemir for Ruby by Zen

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Who: Ardrien @qvietinfvrno​ Where: University? Wherever the good lad teaches When: Plot drop 3, dragonville, 21:00

Fingers traced the name on the directory, each letter bringing forth a sense of comfort that had be long missing for Sylvi. When the summer felt warmer and kaleidoscope petals seemed brighter, the young witch had meet Ardrien. She’d been knee deep in dirt as she practiced spells from the family grimoire. To her surprise, she wasn’t alone. A friendship sparked, with Ardrien teaching about the earth element, and Sylvi eagerly absorbing each lesson. It was hard not to admire the man’s knowledge... centuries, though, had passed since she walked under the sun’s light. She peered through the glass, a desk lamp illuminating silver hair. Would he remember? What had happened between all these years? What would he think of her current state- innate hunger for blood cursing each step she took. Her nerves couldn’t help but jolt as she finally reached for the door knob- twist and pull. “Professor Savas... do you have a minute to speak with an old student?” 

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scllyoursoul​:

Eduardo had never been one for drinking with the goal of forgetting in mind, but after the days he’d had, he felt as though he’d earned it. 

“ Another. “ The request one that was laced with exhaustion, something he hadn’t felt in centuries. Even with the small stint without his vampirism the previous month, it had been nothing like the fatigue that was clinging to him like a second skin. No, this weariness was something different, a result of blackouts and terror, and death. So. Much. Death. Amber liquid replaced the red of the wine that he usually drank, and he let it slide down his throat without so much as flinching at the taste. This burn was welcomed compared to what had been thrust upon him earlier, something he still didn’t understand. 

The vampire set the now empty glass down with a little more force than necessary, his hands pulling at worn features as his palms dragged across his skin. A day or two of reprieve, that was all he wanted. Was a shroud of normalcy really too much to ask for? Something he didn’t have the answer to, and if there was one thing Eduardo disliked, it was not having answers, it’s why he spent so many of his years with his nose in a book. He was so consumed with his thoughts he almost missed the blonde’s entrance entirely, only catching the tail end of her arrival. She looked like she was having as much luck as he was and misery loved company, even when it wasn’t looking. His attention flicked from crumpled bills to the barback, chin tilting up slightly as he spoke. “ Grab a bottle of the 1947 Pétrus and put it on my tab, will you? “

+

The state of disarray in Grand Manan made little sense to the vampire, flying almost blind to Zelimir’s chaos. There had been inklings that she’d heard in passing- of betrayal, of humanity, of a coming darkness. Sylvi had always found destruction to be a weak display of power. Anyone could destroy things. It was a mindless act. Healing, on the other hand. The bringing of peace... it took a special kind of creature to put the world back in tune and time. Fingers tucked a strand of falling hair behind her ear, only turning when a voice broke her concentration. Her eyes flickered back to the bartendar who seemingly nodded at the request. For a split second, a small smile crossed her features. “Thank you- you did not have to do that...” While the rest of the island was tucked away from the storm, she was glad to see she wasn’t the only one trying to find solace in a glass. Centuries had left Sylvi rather alone, the past rotting below her feet as she tried to make sense of the current day. The blond shifted in her seat. “All the fires and the damage- it’s been a while since I visited, this is all a bit of a shock.” If the stranger was kind enough to get her a drink, maybe she would be able to get some kind of answers. “Nothing is how I remember it... they say it was Zelimir Marzan who did it?” The name felt sour in her mouth.

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daemxnium​:

Her words did nothing more than bring the corner of his mouth up— hitched slightly at Kayra’s words to his side. Saint liked to imagine them as something akin to a squawk, a vehement indication that he was in fact, correct in his choice of words. Their trust hung as precariously as sun-warmed fruit, and his friendship was lofty and out of her reach: it would take more than a few hours to convince him that she was welcome to share in the rituals that aimed to feed his power. Blue eyes scanned the room, counting those that were left with his teeth grit. The witches’ attention broke and he frowned when Kayra’s fingers clamped around the throat of the whiskey bottle that he liked so much, knowing that she’d use it simply to prove a point. Saint tore long strips of the cloth, pointedly reaching for less valuable glassware holding whiskey. You’re got them emotionally connected, right? He let out a breath, and the action was forced. “It’s not that simple.” His workings were complicated, and the witch reached and wove the threads to form a fabric of his liking: his loom was the room and the shuttle his magic, with every soul that breathed and felt acting as his thread. Saint shoved more fabric into a bottle, tensing at the shatter of glass. “I’ll make it work.”

They had to have a commonality, a single trait that united them— fear was the easiest, he ripped it from those that remained and held it in his palm as the other tossed a bottle to keep a wayward swipe from a vampire at the other side of the bar at bay. “Fuck off,” Saint snarled, requiring concentration for his next task. It was usually moments when it was the most dire that he performed feats that were nothing short of miraculous— but he had little desire to let the Hellhound Inn and its current occupants push him in such a direction. Flame licked up the walls, and he nodded at the instruction, working quickly to move for the stairs. The threads he held tugged when he walked and Saint yanked them like a chain, hauling vampires as if they were nasty dogs on a leash. It was wicked work, layering desire with curiosity and a keen sense of safety in the heart of the dancefloor: he’d never admit the strain of manipulating ten minds at once, not when each had the tendency to tug their own way, but they stood after a moment, gawking under neon. Long legs sped up the steps, and he released the spell, sending flame and two bottles he had tucked under his arm in their direction. Saint retreated into one of the rooms upstairs, halting only in the doorway as he glanced back down to where Kayra was, then the door that once again made way for more of Zelimir’s finest. “Come on, come on, come on.” 

+

“I’ll make it work.” That was all the mattered to Kayra in the current moment, the thought of how tossed aside in favor of flame lit bottles. “Whatever it takes-” Her previously encounter had sent her in the fray, narrowly missing barred teeth as she slid to the side. Instead, the victim was one of her reanimated vampires- better it than Kayra. It didn’t take long for her to witness Saint’s magic, their attacker’s faces contorting from anger to terror. Like starlings, the murmuration pulled together. She was just about to turn away when the molotov cocktails hit their mark... The crash of glass was only compounded by the sound of something else. A spark. Live and deadly from frayed equipment wires. Against the smoke, she could feel the energy crackling. Desperate feet sprinted across the floor to the staircase, unbearable heat licking her skin as she avoided the vampiric group. Fire, she could try to control. But an electric explosion? She was nearly to the second floor when a blast of light blinded her vision. Wood cracked, groaning as it decimated into nothingness below her feet. For a breathe, gravity started to tug her under... a hail mary found her fingernails digging into a splintered board. 

Searing pain ripped up her side with each push to pull herself up. Ten feet below, an inferno raged. The strain of her muscles- it wasn’t going to be enough. Hazel eyes frantically found blue, Saint safely tucked away in a door way... When judas iscariot’s kiss touched the prophet’s skin, had the betrayal burned?  Had it sunken into his veins like venom, poisoning his complexion with death’s finality? Kayra Yildiz had lived beyond cosmic karma her entire life. There were no good deeds to believe in, no balance to whatever evil she’d spread. Only choices that furthered her own survival. Her own ambitions. When a blood moon hung in a New Orlean’s sky, she’d happily paid the price of self-preservation: a partner lost to her perfidy. Saint’s crucifixion would rarely cross her mind since... her grip grew tired as Kayra stared at her counterpart. So a God had come to collect her sins, casting her to a fiery hell unless the very person she’d sentence to die intervened.

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heartofasoldier​:

It was a feeling that was far from foreign to the male and yet was mostly unfamiliar all the same; physical pain in every sense of the word. To say the wolf more often than not relied on his advanced healing abilities to get through to the next fight, was something of an understatement and yet here he was, considering how exactly he was going to patch himself up to the point of not looking entirely run down ahead of his next joust in the ring. Exhaling a sigh of something akin to exhaustion he raised his hands to interlock atop his head, the bruising accross his ribcage all too apparent covered only by the loose cotton material that cloaked his form. The swelling around his nose felt almost superficial, which couldn’t be confirmed for the dark ugly bruise already forming around his eye nor the gash that jarred the pale skin of his forearm. “You’re tellin’ me.” He returned, as azure hues settled upon one his only friends as she slid into the booth opposite him. “You did your best, that’s all I can ask for.” The fighter drawled, mustering something of a halfhearted lazy smile as bloodied knuckles settled over the bills before plucking them from the table. “Kayra Yildiz playing nurse? Now that’s something I never thought I’d see. A shame really, would’ve organized a uniform and everything had I known.” He couldn’t help the gruff chuckle that parted his lips as he shifted uncomfortably in anticipation. “Alright then, lets get this shit over with.”

+

“My human best isn’t going to make ends meet, but I’ve got something in the works that can rectify that.” ”The underworld was full of ugly things. From the demonic sacrifices to the bloodied fight cages, those with weak stomachs rarely lasted long. It was a fact she was forced to reckon with as a teenager, her parent’s death leaving Kayra to peel back the curtain. What she found startled her... but it also provided an opportunity. All she need to do was bury her morality. “Zelimir is fucking with everyone’s money.”  As the young witch traversed from city to city, she learned that doing someone else’s dirty work paid well. Enough to rent a place, to feed herself (the flesh and interests included). Once the time came to disappear, her burnt bridges were lit with the cash she made along the way. The cycle would continue.  "Yeah? Little skirt, latex gloves... now for that kind of treatment-” A smirk coloured her features, fingers plucking the bottle and wetting the paper towel. “I’d charge extra.” The smell of alcohol permeated her senses, bright and burning as Kayra’s gaze fell on Colton. This was going to hurt like a bitch. “Do me a favor and grab the table, moment you feel like giving me a black eye, squeeze instead.” Her mental countdown reached the penultimate number, arm reaching up to the angry wound. “Easy there...”  She could almost hear it sizzle against the antiseptic. “And done.” The rag was pulled back, her eyes inspecting the cut now that she could see it more clearly. It was deep... but not enough that stitches were needed. Just time, like for most things. “Best part of my clinic is the free shot after.” In an easy motion, the glass slid over to her counterpart.

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Beste Kokdemir on Instagram

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Who: OPEN Where: The Baroness Hotel When: Plot drop 3, the fog

“I would need a credit card put down for any potential damages that may occur during the stay.”

The thick fog had driven Sylvi indoors, it’s supernatural quality only putting her on edge the moment it cascaded in. Something wasn’t right. Though that something remained a mystery. In the current second, all she could do was let out a frustrated breathe at the receptionist. “I don’t have that...” Credit card? “I’m not going to break anything.” It was times like these where she longed for the simplicity of the past. Of her home, the cottage sheltered by the tree line. The gold of the Baroness was too bright, almost cold as the receptionist shook her head. “Company policy.” Fingers dug into her pockets, pulling out a wad of five dollar bills. With a bit too much strength (vampirism remained a strange thing), the stack hit the marble counter. “I have this much. One-hundred dollars. Is it enough to just get-” To no avail, the other woman shook her head. Sylvi barely listened to her excuse- once against attributed to some kind of rule- turning on her heel with a huff. She drifted towards the lobby bar, repeating the same action as before while she sat down. “I have this much... is it enough for one wine?” Crumpled bills landed on the wood.

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Who: Sera @moravitris​ Where: Golden Fang When: Early Storm, Plot drop 2

Too many revelations had come with Zelimir’s revolt. Kerem was almost alive, his makeshift grave holding only a memory of the witch turned vampire. It felt as though Kayra’s childhood pleas were met with a cruel manifestation, one where her brother was forced to walk the earth immortalized at twenty-five. Still, the orphan inside her bones clung to the idea of a some kind of future for them. A family, reunited. It was the very reason Kayra agreed to a deal with the Stanislav patriarch- dirty deeds in exchange for freedom. She’d soak the island in blood if it meant getting what she wanted... the second issue, a man vs self, came in the form of her ancestor Kamile. Rooted in her brain like rot in an oak tree, the witch was slowly eating away at Kayra’s control. It happened at the party. The Yildiz witch was locked away in her own mind, her body left to the devices of a 18th century nightmare. All it took was seeing a lover from her past for Kayra to lose grip. Wind whipping against the glass of the Golden Fang was enough to draw the brunette out of her thoughts, eyes surveying the restaurant. They fell on a figure that gracefully glided through empty tables. Sera. So she had shown up. Kayra was half certain that her hail Mary invitation would’ve gone ignored. As the women neared the table, hazel eyes flickered upwards. “I ordered kahve, somehow this is the only place on the island that has the Turkish kind.” Steam emanated from the copper pot while Kayra poured the other a glass. “I heard you’re from the coast.” 

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Beste Kökdemir via Instagram

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daemxnium​:

for: kayra yildiz / @fumusannuit​ location: the Streets

Adem would kill her if he knew that she had slipped out of the emergency shelter— but Meryem had always been one to stand outdoors in the worst storms. Rain didn’t bother her and her magic swirled around and warm air kept her dry. Dark hair picked up and whipped to each side of her face as she held a hand out, reaching delicately with an open palm. She trusted in her abilities, in her talents and her own determination, enough so that when the sky cracked open with another bolt of lightning, the witch caught it in her palm. Her smile curved and the light illuminated her features, all of that energy condensed so small that it would have severed her limb if she wasn’t as practiced as she was. Mery’s hair stood on end and she took a deep breath, losing focus for just a moment when steps sounded behind her. The young witch released the bolt and it tore through the heart of the closest building, leaving the smell of smoulder and destruction behind her when she turned. A woman stood there, bloodied but beautiful, earning a pause while she collected more electricity in her hands. The air was prickling with it, and her brow quirked in challenge. “Would you like to try?”

+

Clothes painted crimson- some her own, most donated by others- Kayra found herself in the late waves of the storm yet again. The threat of Zelimir’s group had slowly dissipated as the island fell into darker hours. Something different. Anyone connected to the earth could feel the black magic that lifted into the air. An attempted text to Kerem sat in the purgatory of no service before a blast caught her attention. “Fucking jesus-” She skidded to the side, the lightning’s source spoke out to her. Eyebrows hitched upward at the site of girl, a witch.  “Calm down, Thor, you just hit a bar I happened to like.” Like Kayra with her fire, electricity ran through the other’s fingertips. So there were other casters that felt like harnessing in on downpour’s chaos. “Doing a blast like that just lets others know where you are, better hope that Zelimir’s idiots aren’t around.” Instinct caused her to survey the area around them before she approached Meryem. “They’re annoying as shit to deal with.” 

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daemxnium​:

“Immortality’s not a difficult thing to achieve,” Lev volleyed with a twist of his wrist. “All it takes is a little bite.” He punctuated his thought with the closing of his teeth around the garnish he’d harvested from his glass before laughing lowly. However, a blessing was what it was, she was hardly wrong about that. Immortality had allowed the vampire the ability to seize the world by the throat and to throttle all that he desired from it— he had been noble as a human, but now he was a titan. “Not bad, but,” his finger lifted, “Occasionally annoying.” Lev’s smile twisted like twine on his mouth, he could see the tug of manipulation when it was presented to him: but he preferred to play cat when these games set out before him. Kayra’s gaze lifted to his own and he batted out, deeming her mouse. “I have been away,” Valentin supplied, “My father is a meticulous man, but I am his second son.” Pale eyes held thunder, but they also saw opportunity. He had never been frightened of Kamile, and this shadow of her would be the same. “I’m a Stanislav, your courtesy for him is owed to me as well.”

+

“Sounds kinky.” A smirk coloured her features. Vampiric immortality was the last thing she would want, refusing to feel her powers stripped dry. No, if immortality was out there, she’d find a version that suited her needs. One that furthered her ambitions until the world melted into nothingness. “Only if you’re on the receiving end.” Kayra countered before she sat back. So Valentin was the second son, a tough position to be in when it came to inheritance. Royalty always favoured the eldest, didn’t it? It was his next sentence that cause Kayra’s smirk to dip.  “You are a Stanislav...” Her hand set down her liquor, the syllables of the mythic last name lingering sweetly on her tongue as hazel eyes met blue. “And maybe I do--” Kayra reached up to her forehead, the open wound still fresh from her fight. Fingers wiped against the cut, stopping only to flick drops of crimson in his drink. “To an extent, owe you something...” As the blood touched the whiskey, it set the surface aflame- a bright light against a sudden shadow that covered the bar. Overhead, bulbs flickered. Violent. Harsh. Just like the witch’s cold voice. “But I’m also the Akyildiz heir. If you want my loyalty, you earn it.” Just as quickly as the darkness consumed the space, it pulled back, confused patrons trying to find its source. “Not ride your daddy’s coat tails for free. Pay to play.” With a leveled gaze, Kayra took hold of her glass, a sip sealing her words. 

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neverfalling​:

Hayal wrinkled her nose but smiled despite the strangeness of the idea of Kamile’s vast estate in rotting into nothing. At the time both she and everything she touched gained a gilded, immortal quality–to see it now would be a reminder that time crumbled all good things in her life. Her features sank slightly at the thought, but she offered a weak smile anyway. “I can’t imagine what it looks like now. I don’t tend to stay here for long when I visit, and I figured the Zelimir family or the council–somebody–might have demolished it by now.” The mention of Kamile’s limited list of friends caused the smile on her lips to brighten and a soft chuckle left her lips. Kamile was manipulative and determined, an arrow in pursuit of her desires, and she desired the world. At times she felt a little like a toy in the Akyildiz witch’s hands, flashes of the sensation of being guided like a mouse through a maze, but she never particularly cared. Kamile never hurt her. “She uh… she seemed to have useful acquaintances rather than friends. I’m not sure what that made me,” she said with another soft, bubbling laugh. “I don’t mind talking about her, but you– you look–” Again, the vampire stumbled and a blush rose into her cheeks and ears. “–you must get sick of hearing it,” she finished flatly.

Zelimir’s name drew the vampire’s face into a quick frown followed by a shake of her head. “People do so many things for power. And I’m not sure what he expected–terrorizing the local population will garner followers who fear him, not those who are actually loyal,” she said, “And it will make his opposition more determined in the long run. If he could make me a witch again, though… that I might consider.”

+ 

“So did I-” Against all odds, against nature’s will, the estate remained a permanent fixture on the island. Dilapidated, but still standing. As if it wanted to be a reminder of bloody power and ambition’s consequences. “With all the murders that happened there, it’s got an interesting energy- I don’t think anyone besides myself is welcomed. Or would even want to step foot in that Halloween attraction.” Wind howled through its gates like screams of the past, tortured to walk the grounds for the rest of eternity. Then there was the voices, the feeling that someone was watching you. She’d seen the home’s bite when Brandon trespassed. No sane person would risk tearing it down. Useful acquaintances. Yet another similarity arose between the Akyildiz sultana and her last living kin. Truth be told, Kayra had formed very few bonds that were genuine. In a life that was drenched with paranoia and instability, loneliness crept in with each new city she devoured. Whoever had the displeasure of coming across the witch ended up burned and tossed aside. Only a handful of people had ever gotten close... yet even then, they found themselves stained by the woman.  Kayra would always choose herself. Her survival was worth any price. “Red ledgers have a tendency to run in my family- none of us a really good at having friends.” A small chuckle left her lips, truth brushed off with an insouciant tone. “I’ve been saying that I’m the better looking version in response... but yeah, a lot of old vampires aren’t really fans of seeing ghosts, it seems.” Namely, the Stanislavs. Diana, Zephyr, Sera... some wanted to bury Kamile more than others.

“Sometimes fear is a better tool than loyalty, a threat commands attention more than a promise.” Kayra always saw loyalty as a fickle thing, more fable than tangible. It couldn’t exist in her world. “A witch?” Ever since the discovery of Kerem, she couldn’t quell her curiosity towards the vampiric change. What was it like losing the connection to the elements? How did immortality suit their new form? “Most people I met would’ve chosen to die than live forever without magic.” 

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when i first heard this version i had to sit & let it ache for 2 months