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Sherlock | Series on We Heart It - http://weheartit.com/entry/85309697

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Oh you poor soul. You should just end yourself right now. 

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Tristan's eyes widened and lit up. Gems, indeed. Little would he admit it, but Tristan's entire physical identity was built around the attractive qualities that vampires could give him -- or, more appropriately, what he could take from them. He considered the alpha's statement, knowing the wolf's imposed pack ethics to be nothing short of progressive in comparison to those held by others of his kind. And then there was the his twin sister, the omega... well, when Tristan found out about that situation, he had been just as surprised as anyone else.

He chimed in with the laugh, the sound a warm baritone cutting out against the chill of the air. "Hmm, quite a worthy prize," he agreed wholeheartedly. (The witch himself had never been a big fan of sharing, but that wasn't exactly a surprise.)

Then Tristan quirked a brow. "Wicked?" he inquired, rolling his eyes, but with that same characteristic, semi-permanent smirk set on his face. "Oh, stop it, you flatter me." He waved a hand dismissively, he held no ill intentions, and it was hard to find the right balance of intelligent conversation and amusing banter in the Ward to suit his taste other than the times Alistair was around, although that seemed to be occurring more and more as of late.

The Midnight Prowl || Tristan&Tharon

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Nothing short of lopping the heads off small animals. Oh, how I suffer.

I cannot set a bad example for my followers. And I also cannot travel back in time. any other thoughts Craven? 

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benedict cumberbatch - bafta los angeles britannia awards

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Death, destruction, perhaps an epidemic of plague?

Lets just say it worked. How exactly would I be entertaining you..? 

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It was worth a shot.

So…. you decide to ask me to entertain you? I know there is not much to do around here but think a little better. 

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I'm bored. There's nothing to be done around here.

And why would I do that…

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HEYYYYY. i love you

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Tristan’s fingertips tingled, the faintest twinge of glory shooting through his mind like a bullet. It was a wild target, the idea of creating black fire. He couldn’t even be sure that, for all his hard work and research, his method of creating the black fire would work. “No one has tried hard enough. Not for several centuries.” There were rumors, ages old legends of powerful ancient warlocks creating black fire — the validity of the tales was highly questionable. “Or so they say.”

He chanced a gander around, tracing a large circle around the clearing with his gaze. “I do have you, then,” Tristan said, tugging on the ends of his jacket sleeves. “Excellent.” The young man, of course, was right — it would be an enormous accomplishment to be the first to successfully produce black fire.

He let himself open physically, making wide gestures and pacing around demonstratively. “Normally one would believe that to combine two such elements, an enormous amount of force would be required — sort of like an atomic fusion bomb, with two particles accelerating toward each other, colliding, at extreme speeds.” He shook his head. “I do not believe this is the case. I believe it to be more… poetic, if you will. There is an ebb and a flow, a pulse, that I feel must be respected if this is to be successful.” He considered the possibility that it might seem esoteric, but magic was a force that differed and perhaps was superior against normal human science. Tristan had always thought there was a poetic quality to the practice.

"I do think a great amount of discipline is required. An enormous amount of self awareness and control. I think," he lowered his gaze slightly, maintaining composure against the excitement that rushed in his veins, "that by alternating the currents of two magics, ebbing and flowing, if you will, the forces can somehow ‘interlock’ and feed off one another."

"We will have to start small, of course," he said, lifting his hand to gather an orb of swirling, smoky black the size of a softball to hover above his palm. He could already feel a slight pull — gathering up pure darkness, void of the influence of light, was never a small task. It was, to a degree, physically strenuous, but not enough to be overpowering. Once upon a time, but not anymore. "I think if we direct them at each other until they clash, and then alternate between easing off and intensifying, we might be able to make a little progress."

Tristan had not been so unsure about anything in decades. Still, it was worth a shot. "No promises."

Do or Die || Jericho & Tristan

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Tristan touched the tip of his tongue to the point of his lip, eerily pensive. Yes, that is my name, please don't hesitate to overuse it. He experienced a sort of mental ecstasy, watching the werewolf shift against the will of his animal form, wondering what it must be like, how painful he imagined it must have felt. His eyes traced the cementing lines of clotted blood along Tharon's neck.

"But of course," he apologized (sort of) upon correction. Werewolves, in his experiences, were rather prideful creatures. He held a gentle appreciation for it.

Tristan's "true form" would be mangled if they were to go along with the present parameters -- centuries-old bones, perhaps a few traces of rotting hair, fingernails overgrown and skin sloughing off. It was a gruesome mental image and, truth be told, Tristan was horrified by it. He was far too vain to even consider the idea that he would one day die -- as far as he was concerned he never would: he could keep up this cat-and-mouse game for another few millennia, feeding off the life force of the desecrated and beautiful undead. As it were, he said nothing on the matter. It was an area of conversation in which he chose not to partake.

"Vibrant aesthetics? Never thought I'd hear a werewolf say that about a vampire," he crooned, playing into the cliché about vampires and werewolves being mortal enemies. Stereotypes, he recognized from ages of knowledge, often stemmed from a group's known qualities.

Tristan's brow furrowed with curiosity. "Out all alone on such a beautiful night? What a dirty shame."

The Midnight Prowl || Tristan&Tharon