#Gothictober 2022

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝐫𝐝; 𝙰 𝙼𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

I was tagged by @iloveslasher , thank you so much for that, to share some lovely tunes with you all. And seeing as though it is the month of October I have chosen some of my favourite ‘Spooky Songs’.

Rules;  🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨

My favourite songs during October;

Halsey - Bells in Santa Fe

Jamie Bower - I Am

Stevie Nicks - Crystal

The Rolling Stones - Sympathy For The Devil

Ghost - Darkness At The Heart Of My Love

I no-pressure tag @loyalmuse , @heartrise , @beigesatin , @zzinvolterra , @xjimneycricketx , @venusdelaroix , @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx , @sparklybuildingsdesign88 , @carovolturi and @jar-of-moondust .

[volterran-wine]

𝟒/ ∞ 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ― The Demise of Didyme  The year 5BC would turn out to be one of the most decisive ones for The Volturi. The growth of their coven had never been more prosperous and their guard had proved themselves both loyal and true. Volterra and it’s inhabitants were thriving, all except the siblings of the palazzo. Didyme wished to leave the coven, it’s ambitions rotten in her eyes ― no longer did she wish to contribute to the expansion. Aro had grown careless, his gift being utilised every day until he never quite knew who he was. No guards saw the two of them leave the premises, it was Caius who in the end went out to look for them. In the end only the soon to be kings returned to their home, both shaken to the core and with grief in their eyes. Marcus was never again the same after they led him to Didyme’s half burnt corpse. Many whispers remain of what happened, though rogue vampires from an opposing coven were officially blamed. Some accuse Aro of the unthinkable and are silenced soon after. Didyme now rests in her garden, eternally tending to the blooms she loved so much.

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝐫𝐝; 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 || Felix

«The previous one only lasted three stories, hopefully you fare better.» The woman was ever as pleasant, looking to her visitors as if she would prefer them to be just about anyone else. With a sigh did she put down her coffee cup, the fifth one of the day and jet black as the darkness around them. On her desk sat three corked vials, one the colour of midnight, one as clear as water and the last one bubbling and threatening to break, cracks appearing along the glass. The woman paid the vials no mind as her attention was fixed in a specific direction, as if seeing through the stone itself and regarding something in the distance. A mournful cry could be heard from above, a sad song preformed in an ancient tongue long forgotten.

«They want us to know them as perfection incarnate you know?» Her smile could only be described as cruel, seemingly knowing a secret she had no intent of sharing. Absentmindedly she began toying with a letter opener, fashioned after an old gladiatorial sword ― specifically created to ensure an excruciating death. Expertly twisting it in her hand until it was directly pointed at herself, inches from her heart. «But you shall see they are just as capable of folly as us mortals.»  

!Warnings! Blood & Death

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

Her neck had been perfect to bite into, supple flesh for him to cradle and taste the sweet forbidden nectar of his mate’s lifeblood. Their union had been heartwarming, overseen by his kings as he made his promises of eternity below the grand willow tree in the gardens. Now he felt her beneath him for the first time, whimpering as he feasted on the small amount he would allow himself to sample. And it was oh so sweet, she tasted of the finest spices and delicacies he could have been offered. Her hands grasped on to his shoulders, pushing and pulling as they made this final journey into the unknown together. As his beloveds breath hitched a spike of adrenaline made the taste of her even more irresistible, a sweet ambrosia he would feast upon. There had to be more! In a careless motion did he push her head upwards in order to expose the neck  further ― a loud crack sounded, and Felix stilled.

Hesitantly he leaned back, shaking as he no longer could hear the steady beating of her heart nor her lungs drawing breath.   

Blood, so much blood.

Once upon a time Felix had thought himself beyond feeling the temptations of blood, certainly not by simply looking at it. For millennia it had been nothing but a colour to him; his eyes, the lining of Caius’ favourite coat, the wine that Corin extracted and made drinkable ― and now his mate. Her hair had always reminded him of the darkest night sky, and now it lay sprawled out on his white sheets with a burgundy tint, stained. In his bloodlust he had crushed parts of her ribcage when he pressed down upon her, caved in and hollow when it should have contained a beating heart. Her neck ― destroyed.

Felix drew in a shaking breath, tasting her blood on his lips and unable to resist swallowing down another mouthful. What had he done? 

He lay with her for seven nights and seven days, her head resting on his chest as if she was only slumbering. One evening he had braided her hair, beautifully and intricate as he knew she loved it done. The next day he had dressed her as best as he could in the cloak the two of them had chosen, a pale grey that shimmered in the moonlight that crept into his chambers. When Caius entered his quarters on the eight day he found his most trusted guard in a heap on the floor besides the bed, his bride laid out on the sheets surrounded by wilting flowers. 

«We need to burn her, she is dead and rotting,―»  

«No,―»  

«Yes, she is. Let go of her and I will have Santiago handle the body.»  

«No!»  Caius had brought more than enough guards with him, Demetri were on him together with his general within a matter of seconds to keep him still. Felix screamed as he watched Santiago pick his mate up, the guard giving her a final kiss on the forehead before carrying her into the hallway, away from Felix and descending into what would be her final resting place.

From his own quarters he could still smell her, the intoxicating scent of oleander intermingling with the harsh acids they used to get rid of their prey. She was burning, a different kind than the one she had anticipated ― there would be nothing left of her, no beauty, no life, nothing. A mournful cry escaped him, prompting Caius and Demetri to hold on even tighter in order to keep him down. He must have cursed them in his delirious state, never had he seen the two of them so forlorn; nearing the breaking point themselves. There was no fight left in him the moment her scent disappeared completely, evaporating into the air. Whatever remained so seared it would never be her again; it was as if his mate had never lived in the first place.

Mourning turned to tears, venomous and a mockery of the real kind; but it was the only thing he had to offer her. Caius let go, letting him sink into Demetri’s embrace as he hid away from the world in the crook of his dearest friend's neck ― body shaking with sobs.

He was alone, and always would be.

Three days later an explosion would shake the ancient foundation of the palazzo, sending every vampire into a frenzy as they searched the halls. When they made their way to the chute, a great fire roared within it as acid and vampiric venom had intermingled in a fierce fire. Remains of bone, flesh and crystallized venom pouring out of the tall cylindrical structure from a deep gash due to the explosion. Two golden rings were found in the rubble glinting in the dark, with an inscription that had Heidi sobbing when she retrieved them. Later on she would bury them beneath the willow tree without much ceremony.

None of the guards would admit to assisting in the incident, and Aro refused to touch anyone's hand ― it was time to let Felix rest.

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝐭𝐡; 𝙰 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚌. || Carlisle & Aro

For once the woman’s sanctuary was quiet, a mournful silence had settled as she sat clad in head to toe black. Her wardrobe was extravagant as ever, puffed sleeves and a silken sheen to her dress ensured that. She met the eyes of her esteemed guests with not much enthusiasm before looking away to a window that had appeared, rain gently pattering away against it. «They will have my head for this one.» she announced with little to no emotion.

Her desk had once again heaps of clutter, letters upon letters threatened to spill over; all addressed to one ‘Carlisle Cullen’. Their wax seals were a deep evergreen, still as pristine as the day they had been sent. «Hopefully I will be acquainted with the sword and not their raw strength.» the woman mused before resting her head upon a closed fist, elbow propped on the desk. Absentmindedly she picked up one of the letters and held it above a candle perched on the edge of her desk, watching as the paper blackened.

«Rumours are poisonous you know?»

!Warnings! Carlisle x Aro angst, deprivation of liberty, gaslighting and death.

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

«You must never seek out the tower.»

That had been the only request Aro made of him after they had laid down together for the first time. And in the blissful euphoria he would come to learn followed such acts he had not found it in his heart to refuse. The smile he received in return had been satisfied, content, but marred by relief. Aro was not one to show his nerves, and that alone made Carlisle wonder, what exactly was in the tower? In response to the unspoken words Aro flipped them over, satin sheets twisting and pooling at their waists as the king settled on top of him. The following kiss was enough for Carlisle to forget the matter entirely, sinking into that warmth he only received from the love of his life.

While they rested into the early morning hours, Carlisle swore he could hear a woman weep several floors above him; a sorrowful sound that was shushed within seconds.

—

Volterra in its entirety had been created by immortal hands, naturally imbuing some of their mysterious nature into every stone, tree and shrub. It all utterly fasincated Carlisle. How the homes and palazzo had been built into the very hill, a lovingly crafted labyrinth that held some of the darkest secrets known to the world. He had adored the ancient passageways, but after he had sworn an oath to Aro; Carlisle found his new home growing stranger in its nature. The guard had become more withdrawn, whispering amongst themselves in ancient languages he had yet to learn and watching his every move. Caius had rejected every invitation Carlisle had extended with indifference, and instead begun taking up Aro’s free hours. Marcus on the other hand had grown more social, spending his days with the guard due to the absence of the other leaders.

One evening on his way back from the library he had glimpsed a woman down one of the corridors, headed towards the royal apartments in a blood red dress, gliding across the floor for her grace was that prominent. Had Felix not been there to promptly demand his attention, Carlisle would have followed her.

A week later he sought out the gardens, his only company being the oldest king tending to his flowers; cutting off imperfections with an ornate blade. He had been told it was imbued with a thousand years worth of venom, a metal-blend strong enough to carry the acidic substance. The sharpest blade in the world Marcus had said, capable of harming even an immortal. When he had inquired about who had created such a thing the king grew quiet, his only answer; lifting his gaze to look at something beyond Carlisle. In one of the windows he glimpsed another ghostly figure, dark haired but draped in pure white.

When he confronted Aro on the matter he recieved nothing but coy smiles and dismissive words. Bringing him closer by the face and kissing him so sweetly on the mouth.

«It was only Heidi caro, you are imagining things.»

Heidi had in fact not been home for three days, Aro knew that, Carlisle knew that; and even then he would not let him leave before he agreed to the sentiment. That night he swore he could hear the sounds of naked feet running up and down the corridors. Two women’s laughter echoing before disappearing entirely. Curiosity would lead him to seek the mysteries hidden in the tower the following night. In the distance a storm began brewing, and the palazzo sighed with relief. 

—

Carlisle had excused himself after they finished a goblet of blood each, claiming a restless disposition as storms always brought back memories of that night. The torrential rain that hammered against the windows mimicked what would have been his heartbeat. Aro had cradled and kissed his hand reverently, lips tracing over his knuckles and lavishing the ring on his finger with a teasing lick. It had been a gift, a token of Aro’s affections and a promise he never intended to break. Silver thorns glinted in the darkness as it embraced a clear cut emerald, the meaning was not lost on him. What had once brought him sheer joy now made him sick to the stomach. By some miracle the king had worn his gloves that night, and Carlisle silently sent his gratitude to the lord above for granting him such a boon. As the doors closed behind him he felt a chill go down his spine.

In the silence of the night the palazzo always adjusted and breathed as if it was a living being, just as immortal as the people who called it home. The paintings came alive, following his journey— curious. The multitude of carved beasts would act as guardians, though only made of stone they spoke of where one should not set foot. Yes, this home was a primordial entity all in itself. A host for those who were lost to the world, The Volturi a mere extension of a deeper power at work. In truth, they were all mere guests in transit, playing in a world they knew so very little about. Carlisle had never felt more out of place. 

Though his eyesight would be more than enough for him to navigate the halls, he clutched a candelabra in front of him alight with five candles. It was a simple comfort as he ventured into the unknown. The path was clear in his mind, Marcus had so graciously divulged the information when he had shown interest in the palazzo’s structure. The storm had hit Volterra mercilessly, as if it was under siege by nature itself; and the pattering kept Carlisle on edge as he walked through the eerily silent hallways. However, as he turned the final corner he froze.

The woman in red, she was here.

Still as any immortal, she stared down Carlisle. A window had been opened, the wind hollering down the hallway and sending the floor to ceiling curtains sprawling. For a brief second the woman was lost in a sea of dark velvet, before appearing as a bright red stain. Sheer terror began creeping up on him, for her eyes spoke of great sorrow, pain and unabashed fury. His grasp on the candelabra tightened, and despite his vampiric nature did he feel so small and insignificant; this woman would murder him if she had the chance. Once the curtains settled she pounced, rushing towards him open mouthed and screaming. The sleeves of her dress rippled in the wind, a river of blood rushing towards him and he could not move.

Out of the corner of his eye a shadow passed him and met the woman head on, snarling and cursing in a language familiar to the wraith. She cried out in sheer agony as her blood red gaze was still firmly set on Carlisle.

It was Caius who had come to his aid, hoisting the woman over his shoulder as she kicked and screamed; fighting for her very life. Though his kind knew no weakness, he felt a chill run down his spine as her eyes bore into him one last time — as if she was cursing his very existence. Two arms enveloped him in a loving embrace from behind, tucking his head beneath their chin and sweetly tutting. Aro’s scent that he had always know as a comfort now seemed sickeningly sweet, his stomach twisted and turned as his lover tightened his grip. Carlisle had yet to look away from the staircase Caius had disappeared at, until a harsh grip on his chin forced him to look away

«Caro, come back to bed?»

«But, that woman,—!»

«Come to bed.»

Despite the order Carlisle looked back and saw Caius once more, alone and a hulking shadow at the end of the dimly lit hallway by the stairs. The storm continued its assault, lightning pierced through the sky and left the king in a ghostly white light if only for a split second. In the distance a window shattered, was it one of the women? When he finally steeled himself to meet the king’s eyes he saw nothing but exhaustion combined with a deep-rooted shame Carlisle had thought Caius incapable of. For the first time since his arrival the king almost seemed human, and Carlisle pitied him.

A crash sounded from the top of the spiralling staircase, and tumbling down came a guard with hair of fire as another crack of lighting illuminated the hallway. Caius paid the guard no mind as she cradled her head in surrender, from upstairs a seemingly older woman followed with an ornate blade raised towards the king; shaking with rage. The woman in white. Caius and the woman crashed against one of the few candles that lined the hall, the source of light wobbling until it fell over; ensuring that the nearby curtain caught on fire. The injured guard cried out and fled down the other corridor as the struggle escalated.

The last thing Carlisle saw before being hauled around the corner by Aro was Caius releasing the woman's arm in defeat. In a second she wrestled him to the ground with a battle cry, the kind that was filled with grief. Caius lifted his hand to caress her cheek, mouthing words he could not decipher before closing his eyes. The sound of cold steel against fragile porcelain followed, and then — silence.

Carlisle’s surroundings began to spin, a dizziness overtaking his senses as Aro pulled him to the ground, the fire had now spread to another set of curtains and was creeping closer. What ended up grounding him was a pair of lips against his own, soft and pleading as they sought to devour every question that laid on his tongue. A hand desperately pulled at his hair as Aro coaxed him into kissing him back with the same fervour, giving him no leeway. It was a forceful and violent kiss, this was not his Aro.

Carlisle tore himself away, cutting the corner of his lovers mouth open in the process with his teeth; they're mixed venom pooling on the floor as the king cried out in agonising pain and confusion. With his superior strength he threw the man off of him and into the wall, eyes blown wide as he watched Aro simper on the floor for a couple of moments before he ran. There was a darkness within his beloved’s eyes he no longer could ignore, and he cursed how foolishly blind he had been.

—

As he broke through to the entrance hall Carlisle was met by a blazing inferno slithering up the walls and blackening everything it touched. The palazzo cried out as every precious thing stored within it was destroyed. And there, in the midst of flames stood Marcus; gazing upon one of the statues that greeted every criminal that entered their home — Justitia. A deep sigh shook the oldest king before he turned towards their guest with sorrowful eyes. «I do apologise Carlisle, you are one of the few decent people in this wretched place.” 

From somewhere within the palazzo he could hear the cries of several guards, all attempting to get as many of their family out as possible. One passed the two of them on the way out, seemingly charred by the flames and sobbing. With a tilt of the head did Marcus regard his home one final time. “With time you will see this was for the best.” Another guard came stumbling down the stairs, this one he recognised as Demetri by the shade of his cloak before the guard collapsed by the other statue — Prudentia. “This charade had to end, entertaining Aro further would only lead to disaster.” Carlisle felt himself beginning to shake, the smell of seared venom and chemicals too much for his senses to handle. Looking to Marcus he tried as best as he could to understand. 

Aro, he would not,—

«After my sweet Didyme was murdered by her own brother they decide that no caution could be spared.» Marcus unraveled all of Aro’s intricately spun lies with a serene calmness, behind him the flames inched closer.

No, please,—

«But keeping their wives under lock and key for a millennia, drugged and complacent, lifeless husks of what they once were. Now that, that is cruel. Would you not agree Carlisle?»

When Carlisle ran he never looked back once. Even when Aro’s screams reached his ears did he not turn back. No honeyed words could ever repair the damage that had been done, no wool could be pulled over his eyes; nor could the rapidly disintegrating bond be rebuilt. The sound of screams, vicious rain and unearthly fire filled the night like an unholy symphony — until there was nothing left of Volterra.

[volterran-wine]

It amuses me that you mention both Snowfall and Werewolves on this splendid day. Most curious, such a coincidence. 

- 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝑁𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒 🩸 

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟕𝐭𝐡; 𝙷𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  || Marcus

On the guests seventh visit they would find the woman laying down on the ornate sofa, staring up at the ceiling deep in thought. Her odd room had shifted once more and now a piano stood in the left corner, covered in spiderwebs. A sigh escaped her as she absentmindedly began picking at the fabric beneath her fingers, pulling out tufts of emerald thread and scattering them on the floor. After a couple of minutes a soft smile settled on her face as she instantly sat up, eyes settling on her guests. «Everyone believes him to be such a gentleman… The only kind ruler in Volterra.» She tutted before reaching into the pocket of her blazer, what she pulled out was an aged locket encased in silver. In the centre of it was old glass, stained but a lock of hair was visible within.

«If only they knew what I know.»  

What the woman failed to notice was a white figure that had sat itself down upon the ottoman from days before.

!Warnings! Vampire Typical Violence

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

“We only wished for a child, according to the laws they should have been able to control themselves!»

It was an embarrassment, truly, it was.

The tallest of the guards had her bent over, forehead resting against the marble as they spoke of each crime the two of them had committed. For an hour they had been kept in this massive hall of judgment. Countless eyes stared them down, crimson ones, white ones, even golden ones. It was a spectacle, a show. Her mate had spent the last hour pleading their case so gallantly, Sebastian always wished to be the knight in shining armour after all. Meanwhile she tried her best to ignore the faint smell of burnt venom in the air.

Sebastian’s plea seemed to fall on deaf ears, for the two kings exchanged exhausted glances. With a nod of the head a guard fetched a torch, they would burn if she did not speak up.

«I would do anything for him, whatever punishment you see fit.» She cried out seemingly in desperation, her tone as upset as she could muster. Surely they could grant the two of them some clemency, it had been an honest mistake.The next time she would have to be more careful when she collected the children. The crowd began quietly speaking among themselves, perhaps all was not lost.

«Please, my beloved mate and I―»

«She has no loyalty for anyone but herself and the fantasies she indulges in.»

A fell silence settled in the room as every person stilled, criminals and guards just as stunned. The first to acknowledge the speaker was the shortest of the rulers, the one who spoke so animatedly. He had turned to look at his co-ruler with a curious expression, confused yet intrigued. The voice that had spoken up had not been heard from since court had commenced, seemingly a silent judge.

«He could burn and she would not care.»

As the pressure on her skull lessened she found the courage to look up, daring to seek out the one they referred to as their elder brother. The gaze that met her was empty, devoid of much emotion; yet there was a certain sense of inquiry. Over the years the reddish hue had dulled to a shade of brown, a sign of age and a lack of feeding; a murky pit one could get lost in if one was careless. Those eyes had seen so much she thought, and now it was as if he was looking right through her. Digging deep into every crevice of her soul she had tried to keep hidden, all the secrets. The king's attention shifted from her to her accomplice, eyes following an invisible thread as it circled and twisted between the two of them.

She could not bear to look at Sebastian.

«She does not love him.»

Nor would Sebastian ever look at her again.

«It is a lie that she would do anything to spare his life. They are certainly not mates.The bonds are pale and wilted, their union was doomed from the start.» That was when the shakes settled in her body, the grip the guard had on her shoulder tightened.

For the first time the king shifted in his seat, his full attention on Sebastian who had begun screaming, cursing her existence and hurling every insult he could think of.The king's eyes narrowed, taking on a harder look to them as he did the same with her mate, she prayed that at least one end of their relationship had been true. «Meanwhile he covets her as nothing but a trophy, his bonds wrap around her like chains and barbed wire. He believes himself above her.» A sob rocked her body before he was able to finish, closing her eyes as she felt years of companionship dissolving between the two of them. «There is no love here, the two of them only wished for a plaything.» No, they couldn’t have, could they?

She found herself wondering if their feelings had ever been true, they had fallen apart so instantly. The spectacle had grown to such an extent that snickers and airy laughter began echoing in the room, the guards and spectators found it all so amusing. The world had begun spinning. A loud thud rang out and the room silenced instantly, the king had brought his closed fist down upon the arm of his throne.

«Let us be done with this.»

The king rose from his seat, tall and regal as he stepped down from the dais. In the corner of her eye she could see how Sebatian struggled against the grip two guards had on him. Two hands cradled her face, a finger gently moving some hair behind her ear as she began trembling. A fire blazed in the corner now, the sounds of porcelain breaking and Sebastian’s screams ingermingeling. Soon purple smoke began billowing, traveling upwards and escaping through the high up windows at the very top of the dome. His grip on her head tightened, hands twisting into her hair as he bent it at an odd angle. The fair haired king stood up from his throne, intending to intervene but abruptly stopped as he saw his brother's facial expression. All of a sudden, those downtrodden eyes had a gleeful glint in them ― tears fell from her eyes.

«You know nothing of devotion.»

And silence prevaded.

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝐬𝐭; 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚛𝚞𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎. || Caius

The curtain opens, a swivel of burgundy fabric and a young woman is presented behind her ornate desk. Papers of varied wear and tear scattered about her, deep into research of some kind. Words like ‘Karnak’, ‘catacombs’ and ‘burial rites’ can be glimpsed before a coffee spill renders the papers soaked and unintelligible. Hastily are the papers discarded and another cup of coffee poured, ignoring the presence that has appeared in her hallowed hall of research. Somewhere in the dark a grandfather clock chimes, the sound jarring and broken due to disrepair

The cup embellished with golden leaves now rest against her lips, lacquered a deep red as she regards her curious visitors before setting the tableware down with a clang. «You know you should not be down here right?» A silence follows as there is no reply, odd, but the woman remains calm. As if she had seen far stranger things in her life then to question every spectre that haunted her down in the depths.

As the silence stretches out she tilts her head in confusion, taking in the strangers and their desires.«The lost stories?» The cup in her hands must have been a fragile porcelain, for the drumming of her nails against it created a crass sound that bounced off of the walls. As if drawn by an invisible force her attention is brought to a torn dress haphazardly thrown over an ottoman, forgotten and left behind to decay. With a sigh she begins rummaging through her desk drawers, an ear piercing screech sounds off from somewhere deep inside the palace, but it is quieted with a hush. A simple ticket is finally presented, the woman's blonde curls falling to hide parts of her face, lips drawn into a teasing smile. «Do try to survive, Caius is not one to cut a hunt short, he enjoys the play.»

(!Warnings! None.)

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

It had been a horrendous mistake.

The monster was so terribly beautiful, the face of a cruel angel that had descended from the heavens above to smite the wicked. Willingly she had followed him, entranced by what could have been, eager in unveiling what sweet seduction lay before the two of them. Perhaps if she had looked at him differently in the candle light she could have saved herself. Seen how his eyes shifted their hue, or how his white hair had to be more than pure artifice. Instead she had stumbled after him like an excited child as soon as he had propositioned her.

Poor judgement had led her here, heart beating at an exhilarated pace as she fought for her very life. The underground hallway were damp, moisture clinging to the stone as she breathed in the bitter taste of earth and blood. Just how many had met their end down here? In the labyrinthine complex of this godforsaken place? Catacombs and their lost stories had fascinated her, the very stone lined with the remains of thousands, perhaps even millions. While the sturdy candles lit along the walls gave her a sense of her surroundings, one could not see farther than a couple of steps ahead, she was blind and alone in the dark. Her heart quieted down until a menacing laugh reverberated off of the stones, the sound of water parting as the hunter had finally cornered his pray. 

There, at the very end of the hallway a terrible shadow was cast as her laboured breathing descended into uncontrollable sobs. Here she stood, dress torn and dirtied from stumbling in the darkness, crawling through mud and grime in order to escape. He seemed taller now, broad shouldered and far more intimidating than just an hour ago. And his eyes, a bewitching red not unlike the blood trickling from her scraped knees.

His voice echoed down the hallway aglow with candlelight, and she barely heard him above her own heartbeat. «You can’t run.» In a split second the red disappeared from his eyes, darkening to an abyss she felt drawn to sink herself in. As he began moving again — it was a slow and deliberate pace whilst she could only cry out in sheer terror. «I will kill you either way» was the last words she heard before her fight or flight instinct kicked in again.

Every path looked the same to her now, rock and bone intermingled until she was in an endless dance with the dead, spun around until she collapsed into a wall. Raising her eyes she saw now that her last effort had been futile, a dead end loomed ahead as the walls had caved in on themselves. The world seemed so small, the universe, inconsequential. Her time had come, and only she could face this new path — no one would know of her final journey.

Her heart halted, and so the rush that had gone to her head made her disoriented. Out of the darkness a hand silently emerged before clamping down on her shoulder, sharp nails drawing blood as the man let out a low hiss. A cheek came to rest against her own, chilling her to the bone as two arms followed to encircle her waist. Once more she felt the same calm and affection from three hours ago as he had seduced her into her grave. And if this were to be the last comfort she would receive in this life, she would accept it with open arms. A loving kiss was placed on the monsters cheek. 

The hallway was silent as she bled out, and soon enough another soul would join with the restless ones who called this place their ossuary of peace, parallel with the land of the living.

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟖𝐭𝐡; 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍’𝚜 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 || Jane & Alec

«…The two of them are not as terrible as they seem, please believe me…» The woman stated out of the blue, fingers drumming against her cheek as she stared down at her desk. This time a violin case with the initial ‘J’ took up most of the space, expertly made and lacquered a glossy black. With a snap of her fingers the case disappeared, a child’s shirt replacing it as she folded it expertly and placed it at the edge of her desk. «That being said,―»

A flicker of white appeared at the piano behind her desk, a figure that existed for a brief second before evaporating into the chill air.

«They enjoy their games as any child would.»

Behind her a tangent was pushed down, the instrument producing an uncomfortable sound due to not being tuned correctly ― a visible shiver went down the woman’s back. 

!Warnings! None.

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

Mama had always said he was terribly nosey.

But, that was only because she did not understand how great of an explorer he was becoming. He and his cousin Luca had made a map of all of Volterra, surely it would help him on his adventures through the old town.They had even found an old church, clearly not in use and quite scary looking. All day long they had played among the pews, tipping them over and creating barricades to hide behind. Many battles were fought that afternoon as they cheered and roared in victory, evil had been defeated by the two of them and the princess had been saved. The sun was well on its way to dip below the horizon now, and that told the two of them they had to hurry home.

Just as Emilio was about to close the big old doors behind him he heard a creak coming from the back of the church. There in the shadows he saw a trap door, the kind that usually would lead down into a basement ― it was ajar, with two red eyes staring back at him. The moment he screamed, so did Luca, and they ran as fast as their legs could carry them back to Emilio’s house and into his mama’s waiting arms. While she scolded him, she seemed much more sad and frightened than he thought she would be; even bringing up nonna Rosa’s words she always yelled after him when he ran off to play.

«What has nonna always said Emilio? If you see something, ―»

«No you did not.» He finished sullenly, kicking his feet and looking to the floor. Mama gently shook his shoulders before kissing him on the forehead, ushering the two boys inside. They did not speak of red-eyed monsters for what remained of that Saturday, instead he helped his mother make bomboloni’s him and Luca could share after dinner. Soon enough memories of shadows vanished, replaced by clearer ones of his papa and zio playfully arguing over the dinner table.

As the two boys lay beneath the stars on top of Emilio’s roof that night they promised to play again tomorrow. No silly monster would keep them away, it was only an abandoned church. He waved goodbye to Luca as his cousin ran down the streets, disappearing behind the sienna walls, soon enough he went to bed; too excited for what tomorrow would bring.

They had agreed to meet at the church, so it came as a surprise to see no trace of Luca outside the building. When he managed to push the doors open he was greeted by two unfamiliar figures staring at one of the pews intently. A girl and a boy, one dark haired and one not; their facial features oddly familiar. Their eyes were on Emilio in an instant, and though murky in colour they seemed familiar. Both of them were dressed head to toe in black, strange for the tuscan summer. Just when he was about to question who they were, the boy spoke up.

«Are you Emilio? Luca said we could play with you.»

All questions in his head vanished, instead he felt a giddiness overcome him. «You want to play with us?» Emilio asked excitedly with a big smile on his face, it was rare to have so many friends to play with after all. The girl looked to the other boy, and she stared at him for a long while; it made Emilio feel weird inside. Though the feeling settled in his belly the silence soon ended

«Of course we will.” Said the boy as he grabbed his hand gently, with a smile just as kind as Luca’s tended to be. The three of them made their way to the place Emilio had seen the shadows before, and although he was scared he puffed his chest out, determined to not be a child in front of his new friends. The trap door was opened, and a staircase leading into the darkness had been revealed. «Luca went down there, he wanted to explore,” the boy explained as the girl grabbed Emilio’s other hand and began to walk.

He held their hands tightly as they all but skipped down the stairs, the girl’s bell-like laughter made Emilio smile as the trap door swung shut behind them.

[volterran-wine]

The Volturi Administrative Offices would like to thank you all for your undying devotion to our cause and aiding in our mission to see the world into a safe and prosperous future for all species.

- 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑉𝑜𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖

Volturi

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝐭𝐡; 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 || The Children of The Moon

For once, the woman would not be found at her desk that was still quite cluttered — this time with stained knives and rusted medical instruments. No, she was on the floor attempting to straighten a fine rug that had been placed in front of the fireplace. It was hide of a great white wolf, far larger and slightly deformed in comparison to that of a regular one. Its head pointed towards towards her guests in a fierce snarls, small cuts and scars prominent on its snout. With a tired huff did she finally stand up, dusting off her skirt before analysing her handiwork while crossing her arms.

«He did not wish to see it in the guards recreational room any longer.»

!Warnings! Blood, Gore, Death, Torture and Animal Cruelty

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

Run.

It was one of the easiest commands to abide by, flee and get to safety as far from here as you could. And yet he was unable to fulfil the wish of his dying mother, it was not in his nature to abandon home and hearth when the beast came to their lands. The winds were on the wolves side this full moon, he always came from the west with his hunting party — that sickly sweet scent was in the air. Besides that, the forest was still; the trees rustling in anticipation for what was to come. Since the last slaying he had grown, the largest of his kin; and he would kill the beast.

Stories of him had been passed down for generations now, a tale meant to scare their young to never stray from the pack. In his wake their homes would be razed, destroyed beyond recognition — no respect for nature itself. 

The moment he saw the torches he pounced, knowing exactly where the beast would be. Though he had taken the group by surprise, his opponent met him with a ferocity he had never seen in his life. As the beast ran for him he knocked every tree and stone out of his way, their surroundings shattering and being set aflame as they locked in combat. He had gone for his neck, maw chomping down on air as the beast got a good grip on his shoulder. Their strength were equally matched he believed, until the beast smiled and forced the two of them to the ground with a roar. When he felt his shoulder twist in an unfamiliar angle he knew the battle was over and let out a desperate howl.

But he had been alone, no pack to support him as he defended what he held dear—he did not stand a chance.

The red eyed monster looked down upon him with sadistic glee, steadily shifting his weight to the boot keeping his arm in place until it snapped. A pained howl escaped him, and in the far distance the rest of his pack answered, a final farewell before he begun his journey into the unknown. Amber eyes turned to the pale beast in defiance, he would look him in the eye until the very end. The action forced a shrill cackle out of the beast, throwing his disheveled hair pale as snow backwards and looking to the skies for a brief moment. Besides him his lackeys shifted, uneasy and clutching their torches tighter — one of them even snapped and set fire to nearby grass.

With a practiced ease did the beast swing at him, having pulled an ornate blade from his hilt and piercing through his left eye until it popped. This would not be a painless death, instead he had two of his men hold him down as he withered in pain while trying to orientate himself. The blade was cleaned meticulously before it touched his fur again, and this time it cut deep, but not deep enough. His body would not be burned like his fallen brethren before him, it would be desecrated. 

While the beast worked he began humming, the song unfamiliar as he was stripped of his thick winter coat. His eyes were black as night, wide and focused on the task. With every twist and turn of the blade he felt how the beast rummaged inside his body, there was nothing he would not take by force. Humming turned to whistles, a cheery tune as he cut the pieces off expertly. The others in the glade began to wander, watching the trees as they towered and creaked in the wind. One had looked away, unable to stomach the sight before him.

As fur and hide was ripped from his body, he prayed to his mother above that this would end. The beast inspected his work while holding it up to the light of the moon, seemingly satisfied as he handed it to a taller man with long raven hair, rolling it up in a cloth before strapping it to his back.

«A gift for your mother, Dora needs new trimmings for her cloak.»

One of the last things he felt was a searing heat blossoming from his neck, a wetness staining his fur as he desperately attempted to breath. Specks of shadow now impaired his vision as a chill settled in his bones, one amber eye still focused on the man, no, thing, that had murdered him. Though its arms were stained with blood up to the elbows, it was just as gruesome and pale in the flickering torch light, it sneered down at him.

«Filthy dog.»

A resounding crack was heard throughout the forest, the beast had come again, and claimed its prey.

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝐭𝐡; 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜, 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 || Afton

«It is rude to not greet a guest, you know?» The woman seemingly spoke into thin air, eyes focused on a plush chair in the corner. An unflattering snort escaped her before a bell like laugh followed, a manicured hand politely covering her lips; her chosen nail polish was a deep forest green today. With a shake of her head did she turn to face her guests once more, though one more dirty look was cast in the direction of the corner followed by a shocked gasp. Raising her hand a paper weight seemingly appearing out of nowhere was hurled, hitting the chair before tumbling off to the floor; a resounding clang following.

Turning to her mysterious guests she gave them an exasperated look before crossing her legs. «He just enjoys the thrill of a good game.» Her desk was barren today, devoid of all its usual knickknacks as she still kept an eye on the chair. A rush of wind and a blink of an eye later a ticket had appeared on the desk, who had placed it there was unknown. 

«And you are his new plaything.»    

!Warnings! Stalker-Like behaviours.

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

They had played this game for three years now.

In every corner she would catch glimpses of him, a faded shadow that briefly appeared before vanishing like smoke. Most of the time he would be standing in the corner of her bedroom, the one that was farthest from her bed. Tall, that was the only way she could describe the spectre that had settled on haunting her. And the colour red. For she was quite sure that his eyes pierced through her soul while stained with that hue. These days she had very little company except the shadow, most of her family believed her to have lost her mind.

Outside her apartment window cherry-blossoms bloomed, beautiful yet fragile. The next week nothing were left of the vibrant trees but browned flowerpetals and naked branches. He was there once again, but this time on the other side of the street looking up to her bedroom window. She blinked once and he had moved closer, seating himself on the worn-down bench right outside her apartment-complex ― never taking his eyes off of her.

She did not leave her home again for another six days.

―

During the sweltering heat of summer a pair of crows began nesting outside her window, staring back at her through the glass with their unnerving eyes. It puzzled her that they had settled here of all places, many cats dwelled in the area and her windowsill was not an exceptionally difficult spot for them to get to. During the day she attempted to create a routine, it was important for her to start the day right in order to chase away the haunts of night. It always failed when she forgot the kettle, boiling until all the water evaporated and she was left with nothing. In the evening she could hear the crows hammering away at her window with their beaks, or perhaps it was a person doing the knocking? Sometimes she heard singing, a nice tune that almost lulled her to sleep until she saw a sliver of red through her blinds. 

She lived on the fifth floor.

―

Autumn came with all its fanfare, nature exploding into one last spectacle of colour before it would turn gray. It was one afternoon when she returned from work that she noticed an unfamiliar cat, pitch black and perched on the curb of her home. On her way inside she made sure to pet the creature, noticing how it eyed her out of curiosity. Then came another cat, and another, and another, and another, and another...

Soon enough a clowder of them had settled in and around the apartment-complex. Though the owner of the building attempted to have them removed they always returned, more than the last time. She would always watch from her kitchen window how they slithered back one by one, in her fascination and paranoia she forgot to eat dinner; and now her stomach was hollow. It all changed one night when she returned from seeing her friends for the last time, exhausted and sickly. They had all stilled the moment they saw her, eyes narrowed and ears drawn back. Unnerved she picked up the pace, head bowed as she passed them all.

All their heads had turned simultaneously, letting out ear piercing screams of agony as she closed the door behind her. The crass sound of claws against solid brick followed her all the way up to her apartment. The door had been unlocked when she rushed inside, and in her panic did she fail to notice the tall man who had seated himself in her living room.

The entire night she listened to footsteps trudging through her home. 

―

Winter came and the world was embraced by a thick blanket of snow, ensuring the death of every precious child mother earth called her own. The steps up to her apartment were slippery now, impossible to climb down and a guaranteed death sentence if she tried. She would have to call maintenance the following week, but her landline had been cut off... she was alone.

For three weeks she had been confined to her apartment. And In her absentmindedness she had forgotten to turn on the heating, every plant in her home had withered and died as she stared blankly into the corner. He appeared more frequently now, staying in her line of sight for several moments before disappearing ― a gush of wind hitting her brow and chilling her to the bone.

During her final night alive she had slept soundly, dreaming of happier times 

She awoke when an unfamiliar weight sat down besides her, mattress dipping under the pressure; no longer was she alone in her bed. When her sight adjusted to the darkness a soft gasp escaped her, gentle smoke rising from her lips. His eyes truly were red.

They had played this game for four years now, and it was finally at an end.

[volterran-wine]

• — 𝘼𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙣𝙜; 𝕲𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗

𝕲𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 all my darling followers, friends, lovers and enemies; I do hope this announcement finds you well. I have made the decision to celebrate the month of October with some most exquisite content for you all.

Between the 1st of October and All Hallow’s Eve I will post a short story everyday, with the prompts listed below. If anyone wishes to join along I would be delighted. The word limit is anything between 500 to 1000 words per day, nothing more, nothing less.

Bare in mind, this month is dedicated to all things horror so that must be considered while you guess at what awaits you this October.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝐬𝐭; You can run, but you cannot hide. 

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝐧𝐝; A spiders web.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝐫𝐝; What was never meant to be.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝐭𝐡; Eyes, Eyes everywhere.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝐭𝐡; A woman in the attic.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟔𝐭𝐡; The Beast. 

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟕𝐭𝐡; He knows everything.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟖𝐭𝐡; Through a child’s eyes.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟗𝐭𝐡; I am still here.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎𝐭𝐡; Insanity.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡; Blood soaked mortar. 

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡; You believe me, don’t you?

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑𝐭𝐡; There is no such thing as eternity.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟒𝐭𝐡; You and me, forever.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡; The Silence.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡; You shouldn’t have looked.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟕𝐭𝐡; A Creature most forbidden.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡; There is no mercy here.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟗𝐭𝐡; The Executioner

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡; No Escape. 

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭; No good deed goes unpunished.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝; The Secretary.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑𝐫𝐝; Black Widow.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟒𝐭𝐡; Immortal Beloved. 

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟓𝐭𝐡; Tag, You're It. 

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟔𝐭𝐡; Deadly Charm.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟕𝐭𝐡; In Vino Veritas

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡; The Massacre

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟗𝐭𝐡; Trophies. 

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟎𝐭𝐡; There is no greater honour.

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟏𝐭𝐡; Masquerade + A Suprise. 

Hopefully this will be as exciting for you as it will be for me, however…

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗; This is a month dedicated horror, gore, angst, death, the macabre and the gothic. If you find heavier subject matter to be difficult to stomach, I would recommend taking a break from my blog this October. I will of course be posting warnings as I always do; but beware.

- 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝑁𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒 🩸 

[volterran-wine]

YES!!! DIDYME WE HEAR YOU!!!

H̶̦̻̝̣͐̈̍̿͝0̴̛̱͖̀̈́͒̏̓͝0̸̡͖̤̖̰̥̙̣͓͚̯̳͕̎́̾̎́͊͐̃̆̌̂̕0̴̛̯̥̀̎̓̾̓̐̑͛̊̈́͛̄̚e̸̳̭̼͕͉̭̻͖̤͖͆̀̔̇̚͜L̸͇̺̯̯̹̱͉͖̙̹͖̟͙̓̀̾͜͜P̵̧̢̗̫̯͖̱͖̝̻̤̒̑͗̈̿̾͌͆̑̔͆̒͋͘͜ ̶̢̡̮̲̩̗̟̞̞̗̝̞̳̠̱́͂͋̾͐̐̋͝M̴̝̗̘̤̜͕��̜̦̪̙͓͓̀͐͜͝͝0̸̛͖̖̺͕̤̻̟̓̍͊̀́͘̚0̴̫̾̂̇̾͑͋͒̈̈́͘x̴̧̛̝͉̦͈͕��̖́̍̿̉͋ͅx̸͎͍̙̪̣̟͔̽̇̉ͅX̶͍̥̮̱͕̥̯͇̻̅̾͐͊̈́͊͐̽́e̷̛͇͕̖̺̦͉̪̗̟̹̱̟͇͂̒͂̎̍̄e̸̡͕̰̠͓̗̦̫͔̥̯̮̗̋̊͋͆̔̅̏̂́͝͝ͅ ̵̢̢͖͍̜͆H̸͈̄͛̎̀͗̓͊̅̓̓̽͆̋̉̒ė̶͓̪͍̻̙̋͒̉̉̈̎̅̑̕͜ẻ̷͚͎̘̎̍̑̑̀̃̊̔̕L̷̡̨̢̛̬͍̤̬̣̈̑̑̽͠L̶̛̠͙̰̟͕͕͎̰͚̘̬̠̣̫̭̆͆̎͊p̵̢̳̯̥̱̝̐̊̈̃͛̉̋̈́̆̈̓̈ ̷̨̧̖̻͇̩͖̬͋̃̐M̵̧̩͖̬͍͓̘̹͚̓͛͐ė̵̢̨̠̲͍̹̤͉̻͉̜̝e̶̡̞̺̲̜̩̩̲͎̫͖͆͗́̀̈́̇͛̅̈́̆͂̿̚̚e̵̼̤̹̥̠̳͓̺̜̔͜ͅE̷̢̫̟͕͓͎̲͉̬̬̳̽͌͊̀̃̔͝

[volterran-wine]

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝐧𝐝; 𝙰 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚋 || Heidi

«So you lived?» The scene began as it always did unbeknownst to the mysterious visitors, a desk, a beautiful woman, and a cluttered room that changed ever so slightly when welcoming visitors. Surprise, or perhaps a sense of intrigue seemed to have befallen the woman. «You wish to know more?» From the look on her face she was barely containing her amusement, instead shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the situation as she looked down at her scribbles and notes. «Sometimes curiosity does kill you, you know?»    

A spider with a sickly red hue had crawled its way to the woman’s desk, settling on a book titled ‘The Complete Prophecies of Nostradamus’ before being picked up. Without much fanfare the woman transferred the spider onto her other hand, bringing it closer to her face in order to study the eight legged creature. «You know what they say about spiders, right?» she hummed as the insect rested against the crook of her thumb. «Their prey rarely know they are in danger before it is too late.»  

!Warnings! Violence, Death, Blood & NonCon/Creepy Behaviour.

𝐄𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲

He would end up meeting the woman three times before she lured him to his death. Every single instance she would be there as if she was the saviour herself, always there to brighten up his worst days. Heidi’s beauty was comparable to the most beautiful of muses and sirens of the world of old. Helen would have seemed plain besides her. But her beauty was far away from being her only asset. She knew everything about him, showing interest in every mundane and lackluster hobby that he had. When others walked by and saw him with her, he felt a sense of pride. She had chosen to spend her time with him. Not them. By the end of the month she had integrated herself into his life seamlessly. He could not imagine drawing breath in a world where Heidi did not exist.

When the questions and requests came there was not a force in the world that could stop him from obeying.

—

«Would you introduce me to your friends?»

Heidi.

«Perhaps you need a vacation?»

Heidi.

«Have you tried this raffle?»

Heidi.

«Would you just look away for me?»

Heidi.

«What is your social security number?»

Heidi.

«Shall we book this in your name?»

Heidi.

«Could you drug your friends for me?»

Heidi.

—

It was him that was leading the others down the hallway lined with beasts and candlelight. The figures lurking in the dark crept by unnoticed as he listened to the inconsequential chatter that took place behind them. Some whispered of how this place felt wrong, others spoke of how they should turn around; while he could not turn away from the love of his life.

His eyes had settled on her. A hawkish gaze raking over her curves as the sway of hips entranced him further. Heidi was perfection, the ideal marriage between innocence and sensual prowess; a woman worthy of his attentions. The perfect body for him to make his home within, perhaps she would allow him the honour tonight. He was done with waiting.

As the grand double doors opened before him he could only marvel at the place she had brought him to. This must have been a special place, for the people who waited inside stood tall; as if waiting for orders. In the distance he could hear the voice of a man welcoming them to their home, so this grand palace was Heidi’s home? He continued dreaming of a future with the woman who always wore red, until his little sister was thrown across the room; her spine bending at an unnatural angle as two people ripped her in half.

The first piercing scream rang out, traveling and creating a hollow sound in the gilded dome high above their heads. As chaos descended he could only turn around on the spot, aimlessly looking for his reason to live. Accidentally he had stepped into a pool of blood, leaving a trail of red footprints as he walked among the range. Snarls and and prayers filled his ears until it became white noise.He watched as his brother was thrown to the ground and torn apart by two teenagers when a gentle hand turned him to face the person to his right side.

Heidi.

«Would you please die for me?»

A knife found its way into his hands, passed to him by a man with piercing red eyes and curly dark hair; if looks could kill he would be dead like the rest of his friends. There was only him left now, the rest of his traveling companions laid in heaps on the floor — cold with a blueish tint to their skin. In a split second all of their eyes turned to him, glazed over and daring him to join them; to hurry up already. It was quiet.

The cut was clumsy, severing several arteries in a jagged manner; ensuring that he was in a great deal of pain — but at least Heidi was smiling at him.

With his jugular wide open he reached out, blood pouring as the nerves in his body extinguished one by one. He tried to speak her name, but no sound left his throat but a half formed gurgle. A shove from behind cracked his back, severing the discs and dislocating them as he crumbled together on the marble floor.

At the very end his eyes landed on Heidi one last time, and he found beauty.

[volterran-wine]

I will have to apologize for any odd messages appearing on my page, I do not know what they are. It is completely out of my control.

- 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝑁𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒 🩸 

Ⱡł₳Ɽ.0000ӾӾӾ

[volterran-wine]

Nathalie, my dear, would you like me to contact an exorcist on your behalf?

I do not understand why everyone seems to fear for my well-being…

- 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝑁𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒 🩸 

Y̵͕͚̫̤̱͈̼̲͚͓͈̒͜Ò̷̡̝̩͚̮̟̼̯͚̫̲̭̹͍́̉̈́ũ̴̝͗ ̷̨̺̖̹̗̞̯͍̦͉͔̻̮̓͋D̵̛͚̟͒͑̓̆͋̍̓̍̔̈́̕ą̶̼̞̜̯̫̮͇̻̝̾͒͊̂̉̀͋͊͗͂͊̂͝͝R̵̢̠̗͎̿͆̊̓́̈́̽́̉̇̚ė̷͈͈͚̣̳̣̻̟͝ ̶̲̈́̅̿̾̒̽͝ͅs̶̨̞͕̙͙͒̾̄̒́͘͝ͅͅp̸͈̜̞̹̺̻̘̠͐̊͐̏͌͆͝Ȩ̷̛̥̀͐͂̒̽̌ą̸͖̪̣̯̻͇̣̻͔̻̘̘̝̍̍̃̓͜͝k̶̦͚͈̻̼͓̪̳̻͍͈͈̰͎͂̓̀̌̌́͝ ̸̨̛̬͇̟͔̯̜͍̭̟̳̠̦͚̌̈̽̊̐͒͛̋̓̇̅̍͜͝o̸̡̼͎̘̬̟͓̱̻͙̝̖͙͎͋̿̽̓̀̏̄͂̐͒̅͊̑͘͠F̶̢̜͓̰̻͇͓̫̮̭̱͕̉͋͛̓̄̃͌́̎̀͘͝ ̷̛̟͔̣͖͙̠̝̳̤̺͙̬͌̽͑͛̈́̚͝m̸̧̱͇̝͙̟̼̽́̈̂͆̾͆̃̇͑̃͛̕y̴̡̳̭͇̲̤̭͇̺̫͖̏́̄̊̓͒͂̄̊̆̄̐̐͘͘͜ͅ ̶̍̽̂̑̇ͅh̶̢̛͙̗͎̲̜̺̬̹̰̊͌̈́͗͌́̕ṷ̴̰̘̪̖͖̣̽̚̚͠͝Ş̵̛̭̼͙̬̂͂̐̈́̄͗̂́̌̈́̆͌̕B̸̨̨̧̧̘̹̫͉͇̬̫̈́͛̈́̔͋͂̀̅̆͌̕͠b̶̨͉͎͎̼̺̥̼̬̟̬̦͍̫̍ͅa̴̢̢̲̲̱̥̠͈̖͜͠ͅn̷̨͇̼̐̉͛͝ḑ̶̧̡̲̫̦̲̞̖͙̺͖̳̑̃̇̀?̷̡̺̯̜̺͉͇̯̰̒̓͌͝