palequeens

[palequeens]

❝   je  n’aime  pas  les  hommes;  j’aime  ce  qui  les  dévore.  ❞

i  do  not  like  men;  i  like  what  consumes  them.  isabelle  recites  this  succinct  piece  of  poetry  carefully,  keeping  the  eyes  of  her  once  staunch  neophyte  trained  upon  her  own.  did  her  sebastien  see  it?  did  they  feel  the  weight  of  that  umbilical  cord  'round  their  throat?

it  was  a  pleasure  to  tighten  it  ———  and  await  the  dripping  of  devotion  with  patience.

❝   these  are  the  words  i  considered  for  your  epitaph...  ❞

there  :  the  blade  of  guilt,  accusatory  tones  the  fires  in  which  she  forged  its  shapes  and  cut  it  against  his  skin.  'twas  not  the  screaming  and  finger  pointing  and  dull  kicking  of  the  jailhouse,  but  the  quiet  tears  of  a  mother.  you  caused  me  pain.  so  says  that  haggard  woman,  sat  beside  an  unlocked  door  with  a  clock  upon  her  lap.  you  knew  i  love  you,  and  you  wasted  it.

isabelle  makes  a  mockery  of  this  scene,  played  out  even  now  in  so  many  homes;  her  fingers  lace  between  each  other,  clasped  in  near  prayer.

❝   if  death  had  not  stolen  you,  then  only  a  child's  wilful  hate  could  drive  you  so  far  from  our  country...  perhaps,  that  is  worse.  ❞

you are forgiven. her words provide the only balm that can soothe a lifetime of pain and isolation, filling the open wounds in his body with honey-sweet succor that only isabelle could provide. hands sweep through his mucky blonde locks and for a brief moment sebastien squeezes her tighter.

and yet - the hand that gives can be withdrawn just as easily. her heart is complete yet she steps away, leaving sebastien still kneeling at her feet, gazing up at his master like she is the center of their universe.

the next words cause their brow to twitch, the joy which flooded his veins thickening to a dread. what had he done to upset her so? was it the movement, had he not asked for permission to look upon her? the vampire began to subtly grind his molars together, searching in a scrambled head for anything, analyzing these few brief moments over and over for any scrap of wrong-doing.

they had forgotten that she possessed not just the beauty of an angel but, the cruelty of one to. the indifference only they could possesses.

"wounded? i - what have i done? how have i caused you pain?" sebastien needed to know, so it wouldn't happen again.

[palequeens]

❝  you  are  forgiven.  ❞

an  easy  lie;  it  was  easier  still  to  place  a  hand  atop  his  head,  pushing  wayward  strands  back,  back,  palm  sliding  over  his  nape  to  keep  those  adoring  eyes  closed  against  the  flesh  of  her  womb.

poor  thing.  sweet  thing.  repulsive  thing.  did  they  wish  to  belong  to  it?  to  have  a�� home  to  return  to  in  her?  the  hungers  of  childhood  never  quite  left  a  person,  no  matter  the  distance  of  time;  already,  she  moved  to  whet  his  appetite.

❝  my  heart  is  complete.  my  blood  has  returned  to  me...  ❞

releasing  sebastien,  she  steps  away  with  the  silent  grace  befitting  her  station.  only  a  poor  master  indulged  their  pets;  it  would  be  cruel  to  him,  truly,  to  let  him  believe  he  could  find  love  when  he  wished  to,  to  let  him  lose  sight  of  the  mud  upon  his  feet  and  the  blood  beneath  hers.

isabelle  was  closer  to  a  thousand  than  a  hundred,  yet  time  had  never  been  able  to  lay  a  finger  upon  her.  in  her  eyes  laid  the  flower-tones  of  girlhood,  of  the  silks  and  linens  of  extinct  castle  drapery,  of  the  morning  sky  after  the  sacking  of  forgotten  cities  ———  and,  now,  scrutiny  of  sebastien's  every  muscle,  unseaming  his  very  damned  soul.

❝  ...  even  if  you  have  wounded  me.  ❞

it had been 2 centuries since sebastien had gazed upon the pale figure that had floated effortlessly into the store he worked at, standing out so starkly against flickering lights and grimy tiles that she appeared completely ethereal in her presence. whatever task had been at hand was simply abandoned at her smooth tone, those memories where the master's lips moved yet memory could not recall the voice suddenly blooming into full colour.

they were already on their haunches and did not once stand, eyes wide and fixed completely on isabelle as if checking that she was truly real, and not an image from a fractured mind. time ticked on, the image didn't waver, the hand still outstretched, the ring glinting under false light.

"master," it tumbles from his slack mouth, the groan of a dog who had been stuck in the pound so long and had given up hope of being found. cracked lips press a kiss upon the jewel, lingering for a few moments before he looks up.

"pardonne-moi," her hair lights up a halo of white-gold from the fluorescence above, ever sebastien's savior. the vampire apologises again, quieter, for he cannot contain himself - long arms clamp around her waist, face crushed against her middle, acting out of turn, all too eager to embrace her.

[palequeens]

❝   has  my  rat  been  tamed  into  a  mouse?  to  see  you  working  somewhere  so  bright…   ❞

against  distant  memories  of  catacombs,  skulls  filled  with  parisian  blood,  writhing  bodies  cast  against  walls  of  the  dead  by  candlelight,  this  was…  anathema.  @cryiinglikecassandra?  working?  submitting  to  some  mortal  or  another,  stocking  shelves  with  detergent  and  stale  cereal  and  looking  no  better  than  a  corpse  himself  beneath  flourescent  lights?

there  was  much  work  to  do.  a  great  lord  of  the  night  could  not  be  served  by  a   mere  cashier.  isabelle  raises  a  hand,  an  unspoken  beckon  for  a  kiss  upon  the  ring  ———  gold  and  diamonds,  all  paling  in  comparison  to  the  shining  jewel  that  was  the  hair  framed  in  its  centre.  the  fingers  that  awaited  their  obedience  was  no  stranger  to  it;  they  once  brushed  his  scalp  and  carefully  cut  away  that  braid  themselves.

❝   sebastien...   ❞

[palequeens]

when  isabelle  was  thirteen  years  old,  her  stepmother  had  a  son  ———  despite  the  herbs  and  mixtures  she  snuck  into  the  wretched  whore's  meals  each  day,  all  at  a  cost  from  a  witch  she  almost  strangled  afterwards…  until  she  realised  that  the  boy  was  born  only  four  months  after  the  wedding,  and  six  months  after  her  mother's  burial. it  was  not  the  witch's  fault,  but  hers  for  underestimating  her  father's  gluttony.  it  would  be  her  own  responsibility  to  remedy  such  an  error. one  night,  she  cut  a  lock  of  her  brother's  hair  to  cherish,  kissed  his  forehead  in  apology  for  waking  him,  placed  a  starved  hunting  dog  into  his  cradle,  and  went  to  bed,  dreaming  of  unicorns. the  hair  remains  in  her  possession,  among  keepsakes  of  those  she  gave  the  kiss  of  life.

[palequeens]

❝   you  should  not  speak  to  trees.  they  have  long  memories.   ❞

isabelle  speaks  softly,  lilting  into  the  little-girl  tones  and  wrung  hands  she  found  best  soothed  women.  whether  blood  or  knowledge,  there  was  something  to  be  fed  here  ———  and  she  was  above  bounding  about  fae  forests  with  nothing  but  bared  teeth. 

strange  creatures  with  stranger  powers;  even  in  a  life  spanning  centuries,  theirs  was  a  taste  least  known  to  her  palette.  she  would  not  waste  the  chance  to  come  close  once  more,  no  matter  the  circumstance…  or  the  pretences  required.

❝   flowers  are  much  better  friends,  i  think.  they  are  sweet  and  simple,  and  don't  hold  grudges.  a  shame  they  can  not  give  directions…  are  you  better  than  a  flower?   ❞

[palequeens]

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[palequeens]

isabelle  of  the  house  of  capet.  the  tender.  the  cruel.  the  eternal.

dossier.   connections.  plots.  starters.  aesthetic.