Elijah’s victim’s limp body splashed into blackness. Daphne, refused to peak over the edge to see the corpses eternal home, where his shell of flesh would erode with time. Resulting, in his spirit being forever connected to a sea filled with nothing and everything. It was sad, because, even if the man was a scummy excuse for a human, he was still that; human. He had a family, who loved him dearly. And, with the actions that proceeded, he was selfishly stolen from living any longer, that burden Daphne, wasn’t accepting. It was Elijah’s fault. He killed him. Her crimson stained skin was just a mere altercation of faulty self-control, but she grasped it — her ex-client’s death wasn’t on her hands — it couldn’t be. She was going to be a mother. A vampire mother — that in itself was bad enough — she refused to allow herself to be the killer, she was dubbed as. His death wasn’t her fault. At least, that’s what the silent, yet, ever so frantic brunette, decided. It was cheap denial, in it’s truest forms, in all honesty. But, in the spance of time, Daphne, spent deciphering and decoding a mystery that was already answered — there were other actions going on — ones that were finally acknowledge when the vampire’s presence was, without a doubt, too close for comfort. The tiny brunette’s immediate reaction was to clutch at her, still flat, stomach; that carried a new life inside that was entrusted in Daphne’s care. The look in Elijah’s eyes — one Daphne had witnessed too many times — sent shrills of goosebumps down her spine, for the first time since her death, Daphne, felt heat. Oh, but boy, was it not welcomed. It was the heat of a missed feeling, sure, but one that Daphne didn’t want from Elijah. He was the cause of her immaculate stress and turmoil lately. The mop top, was the one who made it painfully clear he wanted nothing from, Daphne, anymore. And, it broke her. It broke the pale figure into a million and one pieces. But, she got up, just like she always had — would — and moved on. Her baby needed her, and the strong vampire, refused to allow Elijah’s poison to take hold of her life. So, just like before, Daphne, stayed strong. No, she wasn’t going to allow his stare of desire to infect her brain. He wasn’t worth it — not right now, not like this. So, with a pinched stare of pure flames directed up at the other, and a harsh grip, at his chin full of slight stubble — that would have broken any mortal’s jaw; Daphne, spat venom at Elijah. This was her defense mechanism, merely, to save her from her own selfish need for someone she still, pathetically, desired above all else. ” M’sorry, i’m not what you’d call fun, but I can’t say that i’m all that broken up about not being up to your standards. Considering, you’re about as low on anyone’s..anything, really. Because, who wants to hang out with a complete and utter fuck up, who can’t even stand themselves for more than five minutes? So, wipe that fucking look off your damn smug face, before your floating next to dipshit, down there.”
Out of all the sides Elijah had come to know over the seven month period he had studied, analyzed, broken down every single molecular piece which made up Daphne as a whole, this side had to be his favorite above all else. Her fiery asset, her defense mechanism, her facade that had always been worn when in his presence ninety percent of the time. It was so transparent, and probably the most telling part of Daphne amid it all. Which was ironic, considering she always had this belief that acting in this certain way, was concealing any trace of feeling, any ounce of compassion, that he knew she still held towards him. So, in spite of her toxic animosity, he played up his own widely known front — the smirk that captivated the hearts of many naive, foolish people, or the smirk which set people into a frenzy of agitation. Daphne, somehow, always managed to never consistently fall into a single category. She always happened to create her own column, placing perfectly in the middle. Sniggering at her choice of words, he lifts his head up in order to have her features the only point of focus he’d ever need. His hand brushes underneath her own, now two occupying the space below of his chin, as he grips loosely around her wrist. “Funny thing to say, coming from a person who’s ‘completely and utterly' in love with me, no?” He addressed her feelings for him so bluntly, so confidently, as if it was the only thing in the entire world that he was sure of. And oh, he was sure. Elijah was firmly cemented in this belief that Daphne still possessed their love that had, once, been shared. A love that he himself had tarnished upon his resurrection.
For a split moment, as if a glitch in time, there happened to be a tense swelling in the base of his throat as his eyes remained resting on her face while he blurted it out without any thought behind it. It wasn’t returned. She might have loved him — love him — but it’s not returned. It’s what he convinced himself, while remaining in silence and observation. Pupils so intense in their inspection, that it almost surfaced a crack in his arrogance. Spontaneously, and quite without any apprising, a pair of arms had latched around her all-too-familiar physique. It wasn’t malicious, his following act, as he had both vampires diving off the edge of the cliff and piercing through the air, until they had been met by the harshness of the ocean which awaited them at the bottom. Elijah, still, hadn’t freed Daphne, as they nearly played as human torpedoes, cutting through the water effortlessly. There was something inside of him, a misconceived hunch, that had he released her as they continued their adventure through the abyss, that they would lose contact permanently. So, he held on, for dear life, until it all stopped, and there had been a blissful moment of purely floating. Two bodies, completely surrounded by a vast amount of water, floating, peacefully. Two bodies which battled, constantly, most of the time with no purpose other than just the enjoyment they got from their ongoing war — calm. Then, he lets go. Daphne’s frame isn’t hugging his own, and Elijah swims up to the surface, only to not wait for her, but continue on his path towards the shore. It was becoming too comfortable for his liking, and he needed out.
A deer. That was all she wanted, the blood of the deer because she was craving blood after watching a bystander bleed from their arm. As Evianna hunted one near the woods that she lived by, all she could hear around her were bunnies. Trying her best to focus on the animals and not a human that she could hear a few blocks away from where she was located was harder than she thought. She figured that after two-hundred and sixteen years of her humanity being on, that she was more capable of succeeding with animal blood, but the human blood cravings were still there. While she made sure to be quiet as she walked around to see if any appeared, she heard footsteps near. Not just any footsteps, but human footsteps. There were trees all over the place, and she thought about climbing one to stay out of sight from whomever was walking around, but that’s exactly when she had seen the lovely deer she so wanted to sink her teeth into. Sprinting towards the deer at full speed, she wasted no time in grabbing it firmly with her strength and feeling her canine teeth appear before they broke skin, and she could feel the blood on her tongue and how much she craved it more the longer her teeth was in the poor animal’s body. The blonde’s eyes were black, veins popping out under, and some blood had run down her chin. The metallic taste was like pure bliss to her tongue, she enjoyed every second of the flesh in front of her, of the blood she was in need of that now has in her possession. But it all ended too soon when she heard a twig snap behind her. Despite not turning around as quick as she should have, Evianna made sure that when she was fully turned around that her speed helped her to grabbing the male by his neck, a firm grip on it just to make sure he won’t escape. Wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, the blonde looked at the male with a hard gaze. “who the hell are you and why have you been following me?”
Unlike most other times he’s spotted lurking around the heavy thicket of trees, the dimly cast vampire hadn’t foreseen an interruption in his wandering — a violent interruption, which would result in his trachea endangered by a hand that withheld strength which reached beyond his own. Naturally, there were distant ruffles coming and going through his ears, faint noises that were ignored; written off as nothing more than animals venturing through their habitat. Certainly, there were no expectations of an accompanying vampire sharing the same grounds as him so close to Elijah. However, a distraction had occurred, breaking his train of thought. There was a crying of sorts, an animal clearly in pain, that much had been determined by the way its shrieks pierced through the air like a blade; that same effect carrying straight through to the vampire’s ears. Immediately, he perked up. What was that about? It was, admittedly, none of his business. But, if one knew Elijah to any extent, they would know that he was a curious lad; always possessing a terrible habit of exploring areas that he shouldn’t, or approaching people that could potentially risk his life and bring his eternity to an end. So, with a swift change in his direction, he’s now running on full vamp-speed towards the source of such pain-filled cries. It’s a gory sight, when he arrives, of a creature such as himself, feeding on such a poor, innocent animal. Now, Eli was definitely not the most kindhearted person around. Just about everybody who inhabited Earth had known this, but he truly did feel for animals. A weak spot, you could call it, as was also shared for little kids. One fatal error of not being aware where his feet were placed, and proceeding the mishap of a twig snapping, there he is — throat threatened by a robust hand. He’d learned, when his own two hands had attempted to pry her single one off of him, that she must have been older. She was stronger. He’d already died — twice — and truthfully, the egotistical, 133 year old male wasn’t prepping himself for a third incident. In a rare occurrence where he swallows his pride, he chokes out his plea of innocence, with fingers still curling around her firm grasp. “Maybe if you —— released me y———ou could get your — answer.” It was instinctive, that quick change in appearance, where he had slipped into her matching state; their monster-like state. “I wasn’t —— following you.”
i literally dont talk to anyone unless they talk to me first
52 100 x 100 icons of Harry Styles from This Is us
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- for bae squanderedhope
- all circa 2013 harry.
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