Didyme - Blog Posts

She flashes the stranger a half-hearted smile; a tinge of sadness crossing her brow as she muses a moment on the man her brother had become - perhaps always was deep down. A tyrant, no amount of power would ever be enough for him. Much like their father to the drink, power was Aro's vice and here he was centuries on ensuring a constant supply. "I am not my brother, I would not make you do anything."

Placing the coat down next to her, Didyme sighs as she smooths the fabric of her skirt before rising to face her would-be executioner. "I believe in choosing the path that brings one delight. The one that makes your heart sing." Marcus. He had been her chosen path, and Aro couldn't even let her have that. She almost forgets herself, as if she is talking to a friend and not a foe. A grin of pearly whites quickly drops, her guard locking back into place. Throat clears, arms delicately folding at her chest. "Simply indulge me one last question, bloodhound, what would your chosen path be were you not sent to sniff out Aro's political enemies? Do you have a name?" Beneath the artificial contentedness she could sense in him, she was sure there had to be questions, desire to feel something true. She wonders if her Marcus was being held under the same pretense, her fingers reaching for the note to him in her pocket were she to not make it out of this.

“it is not my job to believe, or to listen. I think you know this.” Demetri spoke evenly, conscious effort to conceal his reaction to her. bloodhound, indeed. loyal tracker following a scent to its conclusion. capture or death. death or capture. again, again, again, again, again, & again. he didn’t let himself think about how long he had been doing this ( he still did not know that someone else would not let him think this, the thought only briefly entering his head before it would be ripped away again, leaving only an absence. "silly boy," Amun's voice would've echoed in his head, were his memories of his maker not blocked also ). 

she was legend more than she was real to him. whispers traded ever-so carefully within the limits of the white marble halls. mournful laments of Aro. his beloved sister, slain in war. innocent of everything, guilty of nothing. in truth, always a justification rather than an expression of unadulterated grief.

he should get this over with. he should fulfill his duty. & yet, this was not an ordinary hunt. despite himself, curiosity rose in his chest. 

“but if it was, what would you try & make me believe ?”

"It's funny, I'm more wounded than I imagined I would be that he has sent one of his bloodhounds to finish me off rather than carrying out the task himself." Didyme sighs almost as if to herself, but she has sensed the other vampire in the room behind her as she finishes off a stich in the coat at her lap. There seemed to be an overabundance of garments in the world today, though she found it calming to make her own as she often had in the old world. The one before her brother had committed the ultimate act of betrayal that had placed her in the ground for millennia only to come gasping dirt and blood into this strange, changed world.

Though she has been attempting to keep a low profile, she suspected it was only a matter of time before her awakening got back to Aro. She had been tracking his coven from a distance as carefully as she could, planning her next move. But her eldest brother had spent longer here, and expanded his empire to the point of being near untouchable. "I suspect he has also told you not to believe a word I say." A sad, yet determined look is shot the strangers way. She'd always had a way with others that her brother hadn't. Perhaps she could still spin this in her favour. "Tell me, what do you believe?"

@ruerot (for demetri from didyme hehe)

Her brow creases ever so slightly at his words, eyelids flickering in an attempt to cover the emotion in the brown pools behind them - lest they betray her to her captor. Violent. A thing she had been given no choice in becoming. From the violent act that had forced her into this immortal existence to the one that had tried to snuff it out, it seemed she could never escape the violence of this world. Didyme had decided to embrace it, though reluctantly. A part of the self that Aro had buried with a dagger in her heart screamed against it from beyond the grave, behind her eyes. "I am the farthest thing from breakable." Her response as icy as the man gazing down at her.

"And I am telling you that I do not know where the dagger is. It was the least of my concerns when I awoke after THREE THOUSAND YEARS!" Delicate hands twist in their bindings, laced with something keeping her weakened though nothing her ancient blood couldn't eventually work through. "We can do this forever, though I doubt you can wait that long."

open to: m/f/anyone plot: Viktor has kidnapped y/m for information pertaining to an ancient & magical object he needs in order to resurrect his mother from the dead. y/m is less than compliant at the moment. hmu if you wanna plot! connection: strangers, old acquaintances, anything works~

"Fascinating." Viktor said, his tone reflecting little emotion outside of the very word he'd spoken; fascination. At least they weren't trying his patience, yet. Despite being on a schedule of sorts and constantly evading his younger brothers' pursuit and sabotage, Viktor was patient and didn't mind taking his time to get what he wanted.

Dark brown eyes moved slowly over the individual, taking in details and subtle cues in their body language, his lips quirking just a bit at one corner as he met their gaze again. He wasn't deterred by the fiery inferno of emotions he glimpsed there, his calm aura was more a threatening force than anything reassuring. It was always the silent brooding people that could be the most lethal and the Russian had certainly been taught to attain more than just fatality.

Viktor removed one of his hands from his pocket, sweeping his long fingers over his stubble before he chuckled, the sound low and holding only a fraction of the amusement he expressed verbally. "You look all frail and breakable but, you're really a violent little thing, aren't you?" His head shook, that hand caressing his chin thoughtfully moved to push through his hair and over his head as he shifted on his feet to lower himself onto a chair.

Ever the optimist, Didyme's innate positivity had fought back against the call for darkness. Perhaps just as sorrow was a condition of humanity, self-preservation was a condition of the eternity her brother had gifted her with. Trying to burn herself in the sun and join her siblings had resulted in only a temporarily charred wrist. Though on the other side of her temptation she saw a clearer truth; she had lost herself. She remembered how precious life had been in humanity. How one more hug, one more meal, one more sunrise was a blessing and none of them were promised. And there she was with an endless abundance. Who was she to shun such things?

Still, when death seemed as much a promise as the joys of life she knows it harder to resist the temptation to meet it earlier. A small, thoughtful smile crosses the vampires delicate features. "You're right, I do not know you." But she knew humans. She had seen a plethora of them, countless lifetimes, of the way they could be. Some prettier than others. The yellow jewel of her necklace catches the light of the moon, illuminating her face as she moves closer. "But I am willing to bet you did not start this way. No one does." Not even her cold and controlling brother, even he had once been a child full of light and hope. As she moves, so does her power, invisible tendrils attempting to take hold of the woman's heart and fill it with a warmth she surely had not felt in some time. Reaching for the human's arm, Didyme's own heart aches as the others pain hits her even harder. In her tear stained gaze she sees but a broken child. When was the last time someone held her?

Overwhelmed, the ancient pulls the woman into her embrace, trying to envelop her with a certain protection from the harsh fate that awaited on the other side of the cliff. "It's going to be okay. Not every day will feel like this." It was only the two of them under the evening sky, but her words are still whispered. A gentle offering of comfort from whoever she needed it to be from. From wherever she had never felt it.

Sorrow wasn't apt enough a word for the depth of Esme's grief— her pain. Every breath felt like needles in her lungs, pricking tears from eyes just for her to then choke on them. They had to pull her fingers from around her son's body, pry her arms from around him so they could take him to the morgue. All while she screamed and begged for another hour.

The silence afterwards was incomparable to anything she'd experienced before. They had threatened restraints on her, but one of the nurses managed to convince the doctor otherwise; she was just a grieving mother, not a danger to anyone's safety—

Well, perhaps her own.

Her lungs burned as they did bringing her boy into this world. Over the past few days she had become accustomed to heaving lungs; labour of different kinds, one now to reward her the end of this tortuous existence.

Through her tears, Esme thinks that perhaps the figure and the words to be her mother. The innate kindness of them make her yearn for the familiarity of a mother's embrace, but as she blinks the tears away, Esme focuses instead on a stranger.

The breeze is non-existent on this humid, August night. The stars glisten like silver above and Esme can't help the way she finds peace in this landscape being her end.

"How could a stranger know if I'm myself or not?" Her words are spat. She is so close now. If her son can't be with her, she'll be with him. "They couldn't, so don't pretend you're any different."