mikaels0n-elijah-writing

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah smiled coolly. Didn't the other understand? Did he not understand the burden Elijah had freed himself from? Something stirred in him. Was it anger? Desperation? The vampire couldn't place it when his hand was slapped away. He didn't want to be touched? A growl escaped his throat. Oh, he didn't want to play. He didn't feel like it at all. So he grabbed the other by the collar again. This time he couldn't slap him away.

“I've lost my humanity,” anger leapt from his words. Whether it was about Emerson or himself or about what had been done to him was beyond comprehension. But he had spoken the words. “I don't care what happens to the dead.” His fingers detached themselves from the other's collar again, smoothing it back down. His manners were still there, but only in a way.

“And you shouldn't care either. The police wouldn't do any good here. And you know that.”

Emerson is quick to back up from Elijah; he only stops when he slams slightly into the wall. There’s a bit of fear in him that he wishes wasn’t there. He trusts Elijah, but something seemed off about him. Something in was different. Emery wants to look away from the older man, but can’t. For once since meeting Elijah, he feels trapped.

“Because it’s the right thing to do. I … I’m a good person. I can’t …” his voice his shaky. He stops talking, his head shaking slightly. He couldn’t not try to save them. It was in his nature. “You … would kill others, Elijah? I thought you were better than that. What’s wrong with you?” He flinches back from Elijah’s hand coming towards him. He slaps the others hand away, giving him a death glare as he did so. “Don’t touch me,” he sneers.

“No. I’m trying to do the right thing, Elijah. Something you should’ve done too.”

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah let himself be led. Normally he took the lead, but that wasn't necessarily possible here. The bass and music became quieter the further back they went. As soon as they reached one of the private areas and closed the door behind them, it was almost completely silent. However, they could apparently turn on the loudspeakers and would continue to be bombarded. It was still loud enough for Elijah. The room was furnished with a comfortable sofa, leather. It was easier to wipe on if things ended badly for the human.

Elijah settled down on it with Lacey. “My name is Elijah,” he smiled openly at the other as he scrutinized him. “Are you sure you're comfortable with this?” He didn't want anyone who wasn't here by choice. There would be plenty of other people Elijah could find outside if he wanted to. He wanted voluntary blood. He wanted it to taste different. Better. “Do you get anything for it?” Interested, he raised an eyebrow questioningly. A tip? Blood from himself? Or was it just for kicks?

Lacey damn well knew he shouldn’t be in this club, yet here he was. It’s been a more than a few months since the last time he was fed from. He was trying to get rid of his addiction but he was struggling. Many nights he drove by club looking for familiar faces. But mostly he was looking for courage to go into the club. He has been doing great lately. He fought against his urges to go in, to sneak through the back to find a regular. His will to stay free of his addiction always one and Lacey never caved into his desires.

Well that was until tonight. His addiction won and Lacey found himself wandering through the crowds; passing by vampires and humans who were just like him. No one caught his attention until he saw him. A new face yet something seemed familiar about him. Lacey wasn’t sure if he was human or vampire. But the way he looked or dressed, Lacey could tell he was a vampire. The feeder takes the vampire’s hand into his own; moving closer to him so that he can hear him talk if he needs to. “Umm … there’s a few rooms in the back that we can go into. They have actual doors that shut and are more private.” Lacey tugs on his hand gently and starts to lead them to the back. “I’m Lacey by the way … come with me.”

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

@torxnn closed starter

It was very rare that Elijah found his way to Salvatore Boarding School, and yet at the moment he had free time that he was eager to spend at the school. Everything had eased up a bit with the rivalries and when possible, all sorts of people were helping out to teach the young ones what they needed to know. Well, there weren't many vampires, but that was better for them. Hope was one of the few, as far as Elijah knew. And yet he had agreed to show up here. Driven by curiosity, the vampire wandered around, looking around a little, as he hardly knew anything here. From pictures, yes, but seeing it in reality was something else again.

Elijah came across a light-haired young woman and he was sure he had seen her in pictures before. “Excuse me, but I'm looking for Hope, do you know where I can find her?”

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

She's just going to flick her newly made origami frog towards him to catch his attention. Then a deep sigh, nearly a huff. Just for good measure. "I'm bored of sitting here. Are you done yet?"

The origami frog hit him on the shoulder, causing Elijah to lift his eyes from his papers and look at her with an amused expression. “You can help me find the right witch, too,” he handed her about halfway across the table. “Don't you dare turn it into origami,” he added, keeping his hand on the papers for a moment longer. He wanted to be more pragmatic. She would probably just storm off. “Or do you have a better idea?”

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah smiled thinly at JJ's words. “We have all the time in the world, so I don't need action every night. Kol is different, Rebekah to some extent.” He tilted his head a little sideways as he opened the book again and tucked the bookmark inside. “If I don't have to kill, I won't.” He put his lips over his lips for a moment. “But I'm thirsty. I can show you my way of hunting, but you'll find it boring.”

"Now we're talking. Yeah. I'm stuck in a house full vampires that do nothing. One paints all day, you read. What kind of after life is this?" JJ leaned back on the couch. "My life was more exciting alive then it is dead. I was only twenty when i kicked the bucket. Ya'll spend eternity like a pair of grumpy old grandpas. Kol and Rebekah said you like to karate chop guys heads off with your hand. I got to see that."

@mikaels0n-elijah-writing

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

The fact that the other directly broached the subject was unusual and yet welcome for the vampire. Even if he was a friend of manners and rounds of introductions, this was another way to introduce himself. He smiled up briefly. The forest seemed to engulf them both, no matter how small it was.

“I hunt werewolf hunters. Or those who want to be. They poach, set traps, kill the human form,” he made a dismissive hand gesture to symbolize that there was more to it. “And I've been told that you guys are pretty good at it, sharing tips and tricks.” What one vampire was interested in werewolves was the question the other would ask. Elijah knew. “I know and like werewolves. I am no enemy of them if they are not mine.” His hands continued to be tucked inside his jacket, seeing no reason to take them out. He didn't feel threatened by the other. If he didn't want to help, then he didn't want to. If he didn't want to protect/help his pack, then that was his choice. “And they're becoming a nuisance at the moment, sprouting up as if from the ground.” By they, of course, he meant the hunters and not the werewolves per se. “So you have to put a stop to it.”

Jeremy must have been out of his mind to suggest such a meeting, Clay was furious he'd been ordered to play nice with this mysterious vampire, Elijah.

He had no patience for the intricate ways allies were made, his only focus was to protect his pack, even if that meant a social call in the forest with a creature he still didn't understand nor trust.

So here he was packing up the Jeep with a small over night bag, Ready to canvas the area the day before, Clay would always obey his alpha but he'd always do it his way. The forest was a great place to meet a werewolf, you'd think it was a home advantage but you'd be wrong. Clay was ordered to meet in human form and be as vague as possible if asked direct questions, That he could do but this meant limited advantages, he still had heightened senses but his human body was clumsy, the forest wasn't an friend to this form.

Clay opted to stay in a local motel not too far from the meeting spot, he could stay and weed out any potential threats or pick up on any traps. Once satisfied the forest area was just a small clearing with no hidden weapons, traps or out of place undergrowth and no 'out of the ordinary' scents Clay deemed it safe enough.

He arrived on time to his meeting with Elijah the next day, sometime around sunset, Vampires didn't mix well with the daylight hours, That much he knew.

Taking the longer entrance Clay chose his path with the intention of his human form making itself known, small twigs snapping or rustled undergrowth would have announced his presence before the formalities exchanged.

Not exactly what Clayton had expected, a tall, slim but physically fit middle-aged man in a sharp suit smiling. " Well, can't be too hard to find a man in a suit out here " his southern drawl clinging to the air.

" Now, I know I didn't drag my ass out here for nothin', Jeremy seems to think you're worth the effort. Mind tellin' me exactly what it is you're wantin'? " Straight to the point, no need to dance around and besides Clay hated formalities.

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah listened to her words, which were full of meaning for her. She spoke of freedom. Freedom that he also wanted. From the ground up, they wanted the same thing, albeit held by different chains. The night carried every word only to his ears, as if only Elijah would hear them. Yet Callisto spoke of the fury of the gods if he helped her. Could he bear it? He could. But he would not involve anyone who did not willingly learn of it. He could not place this burden on his sister and niece, no matter how much he could help her. He could offer himself. But was that enough? Was he ever enough to take on one god? Even several? Wasn't she his opportunity to break his own chains? To rise above himself and do whatever he wanted to do? His gaze was fixed on her. You couldn't read his thoughts on his face, he had perfected that, but Callisto spoke to something in him that moved him. She knew him. Partly.

“I can offer you myself, Callisto.” Even though his voice was quiet, it could be heard clearly. “My family would have to decide for themselves, but I... I stand here. Stand by you if I'm enough.” Actually, it wasn't that, he knew. He was just a vampire. One of the first vampires to ever exist, to be sure, but still. A nothing against a god. And he also had enemies who could be dangerous to Callisto. With deals with the gods. Enemies conspired when it mattered. He stepped towards her. Stretched out his hand, placed it on his heart. His gaze remained fixed on her. “I am here to stand by you. The gods may make me burn for it, but I'm here.” The wind tugged at his words, which came so easily from his lips. He had made up his mind. This was his chance to find a way to freedom. To his own freedom.

❝  You  ask  for  a  great  deal,❞  Callisto's  voice  was  steady,  but  there  was  an  underlying  tremor  to  it,  as  though  she  were  fighting  to  maintain  her  composure.  She  met  his  gaze  directly,  her  eyes  unwavering  in  their  intensity.  ❝  I  understand  the  weight  of  your  words,  Elijah.  I  understand  the  burden  of  loyalty—how  it  binds  you,  how  it  drags  you  down.  But  let  me  make  one  thing  clear:  this  is  not  a  matter  of  mere  survival.  This  is  about  freedom.  True  freedom.❞ She  took  a  slow  breath,  as  if  steeling  herself  for  what  she  had  to  say  next.  ❝  The  gods  never  cared  for  what  I  wanted,  for  what  I  needed.  They  never  considered  the  cost  of  their  decisions.  They  used  me,  abandoned  me,  and  left  me  to  carry  their  sins.  They  made  me  an  instrument  of  their  wrath,  and  for  what?  For  a  loyalty  that  meant  nothing  to  them.❞  Her  voice  hardened,  the  sharp  edges  of  her  words  cutting  through  the  still  air.  ❝  They  took  my  son.  They  took  everything.  And  for  what?  Because  I  was  loyal  to  them.  Because  I  believed  in  them  when  no  one  else  did.❞

Her  expression  darkened,  the  shadows  of  the  forest  seeming  to  stretch  and  twist  around  her  as  if  mirroring  the  turmoil  inside  her.  ❝  I  will  not  be  their  puppet  any  longer.  I  will  not  let  them  strip  me  of  everything  I  am,  everything  I  was.❞  She  stepped  closer,  her  gaze  unwavering  as  she  locked  eyes  with  Elijah.  ❝  You  speak  of  the  wrath  of  the  gods,  as  though  it’s  something  that  can  be  avoided.  But  there  is  no  avoiding  it,  Elijah.  I’ve  tried.  I’ve  begged  for  mercy,  for  a  chance  to  undo  the  damage  I’ve  done,  but  the  gods  are  not  merciful.  They  do  not  forgive.❞ She  paused,  her  chest  tightening  with  the  weight  of  the  years  that  had  passed,  the  decades  of  pain  and  loss.  ❝  But  I  don’t  need  your  protection.  I  never  have.  What  I  need  from  you  is  simple:  your  help  to  break  the  chains  that  bind  me.❞  Her  voice  softened  slightly,  though  the  fire  within  her  still  burned  brightly.  ❝  If  you  are  willing  to  help  me,  then  you  must  understand  that  I  will  do  what  is  necessary.  I  will  not  hold  back.  I  will  not  let  the  gods  control  me  any  longer.❞

Callisto’s  eyes  searched  his  face  for  a  moment,  her  expression  hardening  once  again.  ❝  I  am  not  asking  for  a  simple  favor,  Elijah.  I  am  asking  for  your  loyalty.  But  know  this:  if  you  aid  me,  if  you  stand  with  me,  there  is  no  turning  back.  There  will  be  consequences.❞  Her  voice  dropped  to  a  near  whisper,  filled  with  a  quiet  intensity.  ❝  But  I  swear  to  you,  if  you  help  me,  I  will  repay  you  in  ways  you  cannot  even  imagine.  The  gods  may  have  taken  everything  from  me,  but  I  will  not  forget  those  who  stood  beside  me  when  I  had  nothing  left.❞ She  stepped  back,  her  gaze  lingering  on  him  for  a  moment  longer  before  turning  toward  the  darkened  woods.  The  wind  stirred  the  leaves,  whispering  a  song  of  ancient  promises.  ❝  The  road  ahead  will  be  treacherous.  The  gods  will  not  forgive  us.  But  if  we  fight  together,  we  may  just  stand  a  chance.❞

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah shook his head slightly. “You should know that I don't care about anything else when you need me.” He patted his son's leg encouragingly, tilting his head a little to the side as he scrutinized him. Relief was written plainly on Elijah's face. “Sometimes you need the protection you know from before to feel safe enough to fight anything,” came from his lips. He pulled his hand back, crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands on top of it.

“Tell me about the other nightmares. Maybe we can find the source and you can find peace on your own again.” Because what adult child wanted to use their father to sleep? His own life was a hindrance.

“Not that I didn’t expect you to stay the question was in regard to your sleep, I didn’t want to be a burden I know you have a lot in your plate” Miles said pursing his lips together for a moment before letting the breath he was holding out as he heard the words of reassurance from his father. Miles knew he could always count on his father to be there for him and that he would usually not have a problem with helping him but that still didn’t stop Miles from worrying. He tried everything in his power to figure it out on his own before going to his father and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how to stop the nightmares.

These dreams were so extreme that he woke up having a panic attack and the only thing that seemed to work was his father’s presence which often as a child would be the only thing that worked as well.

“I actually didn’t have any last night, I felt like I tried everything to get rid of them who knew this is all it took..just like when I was a child” he responded fidgeting a bit as he let out a small sigh “I’m sorry if I threw a wrench in your schedule with this..”

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah waited. And began to smirk as he watched the Joker work his hand. How he looked at it as if he was really considering doing something to him. The number ended up literally shining over the vampire's skin, a stark contrast. Anyone would be able to see it when Elijah walked out the door with it. Then he laughed softly.

“What can you do with ties?” Elijah had a hunch about that, but let the other man have the upper hand. The game was exciting. And he didn't feel threatened in any way. In fact, he even leaned in a little closer. His voice barely a whisper when he spoke again. “Tie someone up with this? Strangle?”

It does surprise the Joker how easily the man agreed to give him his hand, especially when he is a psychopath, killer, clown. He could effortlessly chop off his hand with the butcher knife he has in the pink apron, but would it do him any good anyways? This is a vampire after all. He pushes the man's fingers down to get a better angle, tongue flicking at the corner of his mouth, as if he Is in deep thought, and then he writes his phone number on the man's hand. It's in purple. He elevates his head to look back up at the man. A smile graces his mouth. It's contagious and buoyant.

"Call me, sexy," He mouths coyly, fooling around with. the man's tie now. "Did i ever tell ya' that ties are just hot?" He sniggers. "You can do so much with 'em? He eases his head towards him. "Would ya' like to know?" He whispers against his ear.

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah listened intently, studying her expressions as she spoke, looking for something to hide, but she was speaking a hard-hitting truth. It would probably fail because of the compromises, it would be stuck because the werewolves and vampires had been at war since the beginning and no one wanted to give in. Even if he and others had tried a few things, this was still something else. He let out a soft sigh. The sound literally slipped out of his mouth. You could feel the weight on his shoulders. Elijah wanted to make peace, and yet the more he searched for it, the further away it seemed.

“Thank you for your honest words,” he began to speak as soon as she fell silent again and some time had passed, which he had spent letting his gaze wander thoughtfully before looking into her golden eyes again. “I was hoping for ideas and inspiration, but you show me that the willingness must be there. And I fear that this is lacking where I come from.” He was desperate, that much was certain. Who else would travel so far and have such conversations? Who else but someone who was grasping at the last straw, however tiny it seemed. And it was. “I'm glad to hear, at least, that there are some places that can still exist with reason and not endless hatred for one another, even if disagreements may exist.” Vampires and werewolves had been circling each other since the dawn of time, unstoppable, but in New Orleans any peace was fragile. Mainly because his brother Niklaus had a hand in it. He managed to reignite every conflict. Over and over again.

“The conflict that I want to eliminate is changing every day. Sometimes it goes well, peaceful coexistence, helping each other, and then the powder keg explodes again because a wrong, arrogant word is spoken.” Elijah's voice sounded tired now that he had spoken again. He shook his head briefly, not needing to bother the stranger with that. “I'm sure you had plans, I don't want to keep you any longer. If it's all right, I'll stay here for a while before I start my journey home?”

Her expression  remained  unreadable  as  she  absorbed  his  words,  her  golden  eyes  flickering  with  curiosity,  but  only  for  a  moment  before  her  guard  was  back  in  place.  She  couldn’t  deny  the  truth  in  what  he  was  saying—she’d  seen  the  tension  between  werewolves  and  vampires  firsthand,  and  it  was  nothing  short  of  chaotic.  But  the  way  he  phrased  his  question,  so  direct,  so  searching—it  wasn’t  the  usual  inquiry  from  someone  just  looking  for  a  fight  or  to  use  her  for  their  own  gain. ❝  You  must  be  desperate  if  you're  willing  to  ask  me  that,  ❞  she  said,  her  tone  cool  but  not  entirely  dismissive.  ❝  I  don’t  know  what  you’re  expecting  to  hear.  This...  unity  you  speak  of?  It’s  not  perfect.  But  it’s  the  result  of  years  of  delicate  negotiation.  Trust,  which,  as  you  can  imagine,  is  hard  to  come  by,  especially  with  our  kind.  ❞  She  tilted  her  head  slightly,  sizing  him  up,  before  her  gaze  hardened  once  more.  ❝  It’s  not  something  that  can  be  easily  replicated.  It’s  taken  blood,  sacrifice,  and  the  strength  of  people  who  are  willing  to  go  against  everything  they’ve  known.  ❞

Rosalie’s  gaze  softened  just  slightly  as  she  considered  his  question,  her  arms  uncrossing  as  she  allowed  herself  a  small  breath followed by a sigh.  She  could  see  the  sincerity  in  his  eyes,  the  genuine  curiosity  that  marked  his  words.  He  wasn’t  here  to  cause  chaos,  not  yet,  at  least.  There  was  a  certain  weariness  to  him  that  mirrored  her  own,  something  familiar  that  made  her  pause  before  brushing  him  off  completely. ❝  It’s...  complicated,  ❞  she  began,  her  voice  softer  than  before.  ❝  We’re  not  a  perfect  example  by  any  means.  There  are  still  disagreements,  old  grudges  that  get  in  the  way.  But  it’s  been  about  compromise,  about  choosing  to  put  aside  the  centuries  of  hatred  and  focusing  on  a  future  we  want  to  build.  That’s  not  easy  for  any  of  us,  especially  given  how  long  we’ve  been  at  war.  ❞ She  took  a  step  closer,  her  golden  eyes  never  leaving  his,  studying  him  with  a  more  thoughtful  expression.  ❝  You  say  you’ve  been  watching  us,  but  what  exactly  do  you  want  with  this  information?  If  you're  looking  to  replicate  what  we  have  here,  it’s  not  something  you  can  just  mimic  with  a  simple  conversation.  It  takes  effort,  trust...  and  sometimes,  a  willingness  to  change  everything  you've  known.  ❞

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

While the other considered what he wanted and how he was going to deal with it, Elijah looked around the rooms with mild interest. He had no love for witch rooms, they were full of dangerous stuff that could go off at any time and knock him unconscious. Besides, he constantly had the feeling that something was staring at him, just itching for him to take a wrong step, to get too close to one of the shelves. He knew these were just fantasies, but he wasn't a magician. He hadn't inherited his mother's skills or interest. His brother, on the other hand, loved magic much more. For Elijah, other things were of more interest. Zeev's sigh, for example.

The vampire took the outstretched hand and gave it a quick, firm squeeze before pulling it back. The man did not agree with what he was doing here. It literally got to him and darkened his eyes a little. But he gave in. Because at the moment, owing Elijah was the best way out than dealing with witch hunters who could be dangerous. More dangerous than the vampire at the moment.

“You'd have to find out who the ringleader is. Who is the driving force behind wanting to chase you away or worse?” He tilted his head to the side for a brief moment, watching Zeev's facial expressions at his own words. “Is there anyone you'd trust to do that?” The sorcerer could probably think of a few names that could be dangerous to him, but who went that far? That was still another topic. Elijah knew this. Someone was goading. Someone was leading. “Smart hunters are the same. They observe and isolate. They found a way to get the victim alone.

“It would probably be best to catch one of them then and ask a few questions.” Elijah openly showed here that he was interested in conversation and not in killing immediately. That he was more civilized than a vampire would ever be given credit for.

The witcher had to give Elijah credit for one thing: his calm and chosen way of expressing himself triggered an equal feeling of serenity in Zeev. One that was not unfamiliar to him. Aside from the outward appearances, in which the witcher recognised much of himself, even if it was only the tailored suit, it was also the self-possession and level-headedness he exuded. It was as if there was nothing — or very little — that could upset the other. Zeev was not too naïve to surmise that this was clearly in keeping with his self-assured superiority. Something he would not judge him for under any circumstances, for it was undoubtedly arrogance based on fact. Anyone who was aware of their strengths and weaknesses could allow themselves this confidence, and as far as Zeev could tell, Elijah had gained more than enough experience in his long life to be more than certain of it. 

A fact that the witcher found admirable, but which did not dissuade him from the caution he wore like a protective cloak. Being in the debt of another harboured dangers that he would only be aware of when Elijah claimed them. Zeev fulfilled wishes, devoted himself to the suffering of desperate people. In contrast to Elijah, however, these were always quite superficial and their consequences were assessable. Zeev could only categorise what a man who harboured superhumanity himself might ask of him as morally questionable. He certainly wouldn't ask for a favour that he could solve with a simple wave of his hand. It would draw circles Zeev wasn't sure he could bear the consequences of. Or wanted to. 

Unfortunately, however, Zeev found himself in an increasingly hopeless situation. He had already confronted unruly villagers and successfully dissuaded them from their destructive ways — the price had already cost him everything. But now finding himself in the crosshairs of so-called witch hunters was a completely new experience and a frightening one at that. Their threat surpassed anything the witcher had ever experienced before. Rejecting the vampire's help would undoubtedly leave him vulnerable. Accepting it would only postpone this state to a later date. 

For Zeev, it was only a matter of deciding whether he wanted more time to brace himself for an inevitable danger, or whether he should face it now, with fading hope of victory. Zeev was neither a fighter nor willing to become one.

He sighed in defeat, extending his hand in an old fashioned manner of acceptance. “Fine, Elijah,” he sighed, obviously not on par with his own decision. “What are you going to do about the danger at hand? Do you have experience with witch hunters?”

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Triss had a remarkable sense of when someone was entering her premises and also who it ended up being. Elijah hadn't intended to sneak up on her, but it was still a change he wasn't used to. Normally, he was excellent at sneaking up and only announcing himself when he felt like it. “I wanted to leave the world for a few hours,” he sighed theatrically, he had already been allowed to try her magical potions and had been... entranced. But it was a temptation that was great and dangerous. It was easy to get lost in magic. And he had to prevent that at all costs.

His fine nose detected her last work, which was heavy in the air, while his gaze wandered over her figure, slightly dirty from the work, but still as he remembered her. “Actually, I've come for a different reason.” They both knew he rarely came for pleasure. “My sister Freya seems to have been kidnapped.” There was a serious undertone in his voice. A bit of anger mixed in. “I'm looking for someone to help me find her.”

unpromopted because you love me / @mikaels0n-elijah

The  scent  of  burnt  sage  and  melted  wax  lingered  in  the  air,  mixing  with  something  sharper—metallic,  almost  acrid.  Triss  stood  behind  the  counter  of  her  labratory,  sleeves  pushed  up,  fingers  stained  with  the  remnants  of  whatever  alchemical  experiment  she’d  just  completed.  A  thin  tendril  of  smoke  curled  from  the  surface  of  a  sigil-etched  dagger  cooling  in  a  basin  of  dark  liquid,  the  glow  of  its  enchantment  dimming.  It  had  been  a  tedious  task,  dismantling  the  curse  woven  into  the  blade,  but  nothing  she  hadn’t  done  before. Still,  she  wasn’t  expecting  company.  Least  of  all  him. ❝  If  you’re  here  for  a  remedy,  Elijah,  I  regret  to  inform  you  I’m  fresh  out  of  ‘elixirs  to  make  the  world  a  little  less  complicated, ❞  she  mused  without  looking  up,  reaching  for  a  cloth  to  wipe  her  hands.  ❝  But  if  you’ve  come  to  tell  me  I’ve  been  reckless,  shortsighted,  or  whatever  else  you’d  like  to  chastise  me  for—well,  get  in  line. ❞ Only  then  did  she  lift  her  gaze,  studying  him  with  an  expression  that  was  almost  amused,  though  it  carried  that  ever-present  sharpness,  the  same  edge  she  used  to  keep  people  from  thinking  they  knew  her  too  well.  Whatever  brought  him  here,  she  doubted  it  was  purely  social.

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Elijah smirked at her words, not taking them as anything hostile. He had noticed how she had scanned the room. Him too. She was good, ready to bolt at a moment's notice if anything went behind her back. He thought she had made the perfect choice to get involved with her. Even if it would reveal a lot about him and his race. But alone, his family and he were no longer a match for the Force at the moment. And damn it, if Niklaus had his way, everything would end up in flames. Humans could help. Elijah knew that. Even if you might have to adjust your memory afterwards. An unpleasant side effect. His expression didn't falter as he thought about it. It happened so quickly, in particular, that his voice rose only two seconds after hers. A normal time to wait.

“You're welcome to choose anything you find tasty here. If you're going to come here for me, I'm happy to pay.” Creating a connection, something worth staying for. Trivial, but effective. Above all, he didn't want to open the door directly.

“Natasha told me that you would be a good contact.” Mentioning the name that brought him here was another good start. Whether the name would upset her or calm her down remained to be seen.

Yelena had been hunting her creators for sometime now, gathering intel and chasing down tips anywhere she got them. Killing her former employers was no easy feat and with the occasional black widow to free she felt no where close to her goal. Shut down the Red Room.

In this game of spy vs better spy you trusted no one. Not family, not friends - if you had any and not lovers. Yelena trusted Natasha though, some bonds were harder to break. Unclear on any details but enough intel to make this meeting worth while, Yelena agreed.

Cafe's were places for students, yoga mums and women whose handbags came with puppies but they also had CCTV, great public viewing and usually great little cakes with little chocolate sprinkles.

Tall, Slender, muscular build, middle aged, dressed well, calm expression. Yelena mentally noted the man she was about to meet, she spotted two points of extraction, should she be walking into a trap and at least ten people seated outside. All this with no readable effort, she walked up to him as he waved like a old friend finally meeting up.

Interesting, he's leading to ally on the left. Possible attack, Yelena braced herself, she was always ready for a fight but this was still intel gathering as far as she knew, no need to pull out the big guns yet.

Leaning on the opposite wall she smiles " I knew the cafe was too good to be true, why sit in comfort when ally's are here, no? " her Russian accent deepened her voice a little, giving her a hard edge. She kept her tone playful though.

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

cont @fourteenshe

Elijah liked her quick wit, that she wasn't too easily flustered by lightly spoken compliments, preferring instead to crave actions that also proved she meant business. Elijah had stepped closer to her, his gaze fixed on her and he listened to every syllable that left her mouth, hearing her heartbeat when she was quiet and at the same time pronouncing with her gaze anything that hadn't left her mouth. He leaned slightly against one of the tables filled with glasses and jars (he didn't look closely at what was in them) and tilted his head a little to the side as he scrutinized her. He had meant what he said, but surely many had before. Or maybe not, who knew?

“That's why I'm here, my dear Triss,” he began to raise his voice again, a slight grin on his lips. “I wanted to offer you my services, should you need them. I've heard there's a problem with the local witches.”

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Her words struck deep into his heart, he had to control himself not to stare conspicuously or otherwise show a reaction that might make her uncomfortable. His mouth opened a tiny bit anyway before he could control himself again. It seemed as if the words were a burden to him, demanding everything he had not to cave in. There were so many unspoken words in the air between them. But even that wasn't what was causing this in him. It was her. Even though she had no memories of him, she managed to captivate him again. With a few simple words, as if she could read and evaluate every inch of him. Even if she didn't know why.

However, everything was destroyed with Elijah's words about the landlord. It was over. He could literally see the anger in Lilith, her face hardening slightly. The book was clutched a little tighter and she was quite obviously dismissing him. Everything she said was true. HE wanted to protect her. To make sure she had no more worries. And what did he do? He made everything worse. “Actually, I only like independent bookstores and I think they should be kept much more often instead of being closed all the time,” he formed words where Elijah thought he could soften them a little. “Who likes small talk?” he added before walking back to the small counter so she could scan the books. He would pay. At first he wondered whether he should give more than was asked, but in the end he didn't. He paid in cash, glancing briefly at the picture in his wallet. Eris. Unfortunately, he didn't have one with Lilith and her, but at least the girl was always with him. Yes, he opened the wallet wide enough for her to see it too. Then he placed a business card on the counter. He put his wallet away again. "If it ends up not working out because of the money, just get in touch. As I said, I love small bookshops and would do a lot to keep them going." His gaze settled on her beautiful, dark eyes. Elijah was on the verge of manipulating her. But he wouldn't do that even if he wanted to. After all, she now had a card with his name and a cell phone number. She could call him. And he would keep an eye on her, he wouldn't lose her again.

“No quid pro quo,” he added, and before she could say anything back, Elijah took the two newly won books and walked out of the store. Outside, out of sight, he took a deep breath.

Lilith watched Elijah closely, the way his hands hesitated as he weighed the book, the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze when it briefly avoided hers. It tugged at something deep inside her, something she couldn’t quite place. A feeling she refused to entertain. She would never admit the way her heart seemed to ache in response. There was something far too familiar about the way he stood there—his posture, the soft shift of his body toward her, even the tone of his voice. It was as though a part of him still clung to her in ways that were impossible to ignore, though she could never quite remember why it mattered. Her fingers twitched at the edges of the book she had handed him, the impulse to let go of it fighting against the pull to keep the exchange alive, even if she couldn’t quite explain why. He should just take it, pay, and leave her to her books. Yet she was stuck in place, pulled by a force she couldn’t name, caught in the strange gravity of his presence.

❝ A modern book, you say? ❞ Her voice was light, almost teasing, but her gaze held steady, piercing. She didn’t care what he was after, not really. It wasn’t about the book, not now. There was something in the air between them, something that felt like unfinished business, a story she’d buried too long ago. She wasn’t ready to revisit it. ❝ Something long gone... ❞ Her fingers skimmed the spines of other books, her mind drifting as she searched for something to fill the empty space that had opened between them, something to push away the feeling of him, the strange echo of memories slipping just out of reach.

Her hand found a worn, leather-bound volume, one that had clearly seen better days. She held it out to him, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest as her eyes flicked up to meet his. ❝ This one might suit you, I suppose, but it’s not for everyone, ❞ she said, her voice softer now, though still firm. ❝ It’s about a man who seeks redemption after losing everything—someone so far gone that the world he once knew is but a faded dream. He spends years wandering, searching for peace, but when he finally finds it... ❞ She didn’t finish, letting the unspoken words linger. She didn’t need to. Elijah always had been the sort to fill in the blanks, to understand the story that lay beyond the words.

When his question about the landlord came, Lilith’s posture shifted, tensed, as if a topic was brought up she had no intention to talk about. The warmth in her chest soured, a flicker of anger threatening to rise. She hated men like him—the ones who thought they could control everything, trample over people like her and not feel a damn thing. Yet, her mind seemed to churn with a strange, nagging uncertainty. Had they met before? Why did his words, his presence, feel so hauntingly familiar?

No. She pushed the thought away, pushed him away. Her memories were fragmented, broken pieces she didn’t want to chase down. Not today. ❝ Are you trying to sell me on the idea that you’re one of the ‘good’ ones? ❞ The words left her lips with a bite, sharper than she intended, as the dry humor crept into her voice. ❝ Because, that suit can’t hide the stink of... pretension. ❞ Her eyebrow arched, her fingers curling around the book she still held, her gaze unwavering. ❝ Don’t worry about him, ❞ she continued, her voice now a low, firm drawl. ❝ Take it or leave it, but I have no interest in small talk. ❞ There was something about this moment, about him, that felt like a slow unraveling. And that made her uncomfortable, made her vulnerable, and she went full on defense. She could feel his eyes on her, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to understand it. ❝ I don’t need a protector, but thank you for the offer. ❞

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

The fact that she was talking about a place at all surprised the vampire, even if it didn't show. He merely frowned for a second, after all, she immediately said that it wouldn't be her decision. Of course it was. She lived in a community and someone leading it would decide whether Elijah was trustworthy enough to accept him into their midst, even if only briefly. That would already be enough for Elijah to stock up on at least the smallest of supplies he was carrying. Well, especially blood, but he certainly wasn't going to stick it to her. Humanity no longer believed in vampires.

The calm they both radiated was different. The stranger was more nervous than Elijah as she glanced around. She was tense, ready to shoot him or hurt him if he took one step too fast. Elijah, meanwhile, wasn't worried. There was nothing to make him nervous. He would heal. He would endure. But Elijah hated killing innocents. It wasn't something he liked to do.

Her posture changed a little. Her shoulders tightened. Elijah observed this movement more closely. Her voice sounded sharp and strong. Was she playing it? Or was she really like this? Elijah would like to find out. Her questions were understandable, but Elijah couldn't even answer. How many people? Oh, she'd kill him on sight if she knew. Or run away.

"I only kill when I have to. If I'm attacked, for example," he began to speak his words as he eyed her appraisingly. "There weren't many, but I can't give you an exact number, I'm sorry. I can still see the faces when I close my eyes, but in those moments it's me and them. And that's when I choose me." His voice sounded completely calm. There was no sign that he was lying. The lie came so smoothly from his lips, he was used to lying about it. Even when he saw the faces of people he had killed. Though not in this apocalypse. “Walkers, on the other hand... well, I kill them when I see them and they notice me.” It was rather rare for walkers to notice him, but Elijah killed them anyway. He hated these creatures and would not stop killing them, even if they posed no danger to him. But to others. And he didn't like that at all. His hearing served him well. He could hear animals crawling in the forest, heard the breathing and the telltale heart of the woman across from him, and far away, he could hear the faint creeping sound of a walker. But it was so far away that Elijah wasn't worried about it at the moment. If he judged it correctly, the creature was heading in a different direction anyway. “Of course I'm not going to jump into a whole group without a plan, but individuals that cross my path?” He hunched his shoulders briefly, as if that explained everything there was to say.

“Answered sufficiently and well enough?” A small smile curved the corners of his mouth, which Elijah knew was considered charming.

#𝙱𝙶 ⸻ there's a weight in her chest she can't quite shake. a familiar one. the kind that creeps in when a stranger's standing too close, when there's too much unknown, when she's gotta decide— quick —if this is gonna end in blood or not. beth's seen too many people trust too easy, trust wrong. she's done it herself. more than once --- and here's another stranger now. another unknown. and so the greene girl watches him, fingers curled tight around the handle of her knife, her grip solid now, steadier. he doesn't move much, just enough to look like he could be trusted. like, perhaps, he's trying to make her believe it. and maybe she does. maybe she wants to. but that's the thing about wanting — it doesn't mean a damn thing when you got everything to lose. “ i know a place. ” beth exhales slow, shoulders shifting. it's not an offer. not yet. just a statement. a fact she's placing between them, curious to see how it settles. “ but it ain't my call. ” her voice stays even, no cracks this time, no softness. he doesn't need to know what kind of person she is just yet. he doesn't need to know that she still thinks about people before she thinks about herself, that she still cares enough to be standing here in the first place.

her eyes flicker to the side, just for a second, scanning the tree line, the open space between them. they're still alone. for now. “ there's others. ” it's vague on purpose. no need for details, even less need for names. he doesn't need anything but the truth, just enough of it to understand that if this is a trick, if he's lying … he won't be the first person to try. and she won't be the first person to put a stop to it --- beth shifts on her feet, tilting her head just slightly, studying him. “ they'll have questions. important ones. they always do. ” another pause. not long. just enough to mean something. “ but i got some too. ” beth doesn't blink as she says it. not a drop of hesitation found before the words leave her lips. even though it ain't her. even though she's never been the one asking the questions, never been the one deciding if someone stays or goes, if someone is worth the risk. that's always been rick, or daryl, or maggie, or someone else who knows how to make those calls. knows how to do it without flinching. but, but, but — beth ain't them. so she makes herself BE. she forces herself to stand like maggie would: strong, firm, already knowing the answer before she even asks. she tries to carry the kind of sharp, quiet bravery carol does, the kind that doesn't waver, doesn't make space for doubt. she takes on daryl's way of watching, of seeing people for what they really are, looking past what they say and into what they mean.

and she has to do it, because beth greene ain't the one in control here. not now \ not ever. because beth greene trusts too much. beth greene still believes in people. and that's gotten her hurt before. gotten other people killed, too. so she hardens, just enough. just for now. just to make this moment count before it passes them both by. “ how many walkers have you killed? ” she's almost proud when her voice doesn't shake. “ how many … people? ” so she doesn't let herself swallow, doesn't let herself second - guess, doesn't let herself soften. “ and why'd you do it? ” but still, somewhere in the space between those words, between the steel she's trying to wear like someone else's old shoes and the person she really is underneath — the youngest greene can't help but find she still hopes he answers right.

[mikaels0n-elijah-writing]

Kill his brother. Lilith wouldn't do that, Elijah knew, no matter how much she wanted to. Because she didn't want to cause him any more pain. And he was grateful for that, even if he couldn't believe it at the moment. He glared at her, still angry, his gaze therefore as sharp as a shard of glass. He pressed his lips together while his hands clawed at the fabric on her body. He was careful not to catch her skin. Even if she healed quickly, he didn't need to cause unnecessary damage. “I'd like to say yes right now, but you know I'd regret it in a quiet moment,” he growled softly. He was too noble to order the death of a family member, even for his sister's sake. For the sake of everyone else. But for him, Niklaus had gone a step too far in wanting to involve Elijah and Lilith's child. The vampire would prevent that at all costs.

@edenhusk

As she wrapped her arms around his neck slowly, her fingers already playing with the hair at his nape, she was taken aback for a second by his sudden outburst of emotion and swear words—but it did not shock her; rather, it amused her, almost filling her with pride. ❝ Oh, look at you, cursing and all that—makes you ten times more attractive, Mr. Mikaelson,❞ she purred in a teasing hum as she listened to his struggles, her brow raising as if testing the water. ❝So, am I finally allowed to kill your brother?❞ She was joking, right? ... right?