⠀ ⠀ 🫀̶̵̴⃪͞ *

*   fanning  myself  over  here   

Hrrruuu

*  uhm  hello  wtf  is  this  hot  theme?  and  yes  pls  i’ll  drop  something  after   class 

/   on   here   or   @-VAMPIRISMS-   pls ! 

 /   helloo :3

&.      it’s a perfect visual of facial expressions and persona.     anyways, i’m writing out replies now. we’re going to pretend i didn’t just pass out last night.

&.      anyways.      for those who are interacting. this is an exact replica of rurik’s scar under his left eye; framing the colour grey.       gotta love this dark madness. 

⠀⠀⠀    ⠀⠀ meow. 

wolfe?    [ her voice lowered. her breath felt uneven as her gaze drifted briefly over his bronze forearms, the movement of muscle beneath damp skin as he reached toward the mantle. the familiar strength there unsettled her more than it reassured. she forced herself to look away before the thought of touching him betrayed her restraint. when he did not answer, she exhaled slowly and crossed the remaining distance between them. she stopped just behind him, close enough to feel the residual heat from his body. folding her arms, she lifted her chin slightly. there was no chance she would tolerate silence as punishment. if something weighed on him, she wanted it spoken aloud. ]

[ one moment she was reaching for the book, murmuring softly beneath her breath. the next, she felt the sudden rush of warmth at her back. cool droplets from his coat fell against the nape of her neck, startling and sharp enough to raise goosebumps along her skin. taia froze, caught completely off guard by his nearness. she could smell the rain clinging to him, damp wool and cold air, threaded with something darker beneath it, smoke and earth and something distinctly wolfe. the urge to turn and wrap her arms around him struck her with disarming force, to measure his warmth, to see with her own eyes whether he had been sleeping, whether he had been eating. his voice, when it came, was low and weighted, edged with fatigue. she knew their conflict had been sitting heavily on him, but he had not carried it alone. the difference was that wolfe disappeared into work, while she remained within these walls, managing galadoria in his absence. the castle had demanded more than usual these past weeks. fixtures had needed replacing, stonework restructured, contractors summoned and dismissed until the price was right. it had taken weeks of negotiations and oversight, leaving her body tired in a way sleep did not easily mend. ]     what is it, wolfe?      
            
            [ she turned as he moved toward the fireplace. it too had been restored, the stone relaid, the flue repaired so the draw worked cleanly now. she wondered if he noticed the difference, the cleaner lines of the brick, the steadier burn. but her focus shifted when she saw the slow roughness in his steps. not careless, not weak, but heavier than usual. a faint crease formed between her brows. was he unwell? ]    

    ⠀⠀ the nearer he drew at once made him peel off his coat, setting it along the length of the couch, and he began by loosening the cuffs of his sleeves. the best fold was once perfection, yet now it crested with a crease; speaking of his clumsy hands.⠀ (  .. )⠀silently he bent and began stirring the logs with the poker. ᅠ⋆

/  send me the soundtrack on ig when you get a chance, please and thank you. i have an absurd amount of muse for her right now and it’s almost overwhelming in the best way. i’m genuinely excited to see where all of this goes. i’m going to restrain myself from spamming you any further, even though it’s tempting, because your replies consistently leave me reeling in the most best way ever ! 

ID: @godsIayer           * it was not intimidation in the crude sense. it was authority that required no reinforcement. it emanated from him without display, a contained force that tightened the hinge of her jaw before she consciously relaxed it. as he moved toward his chair, she followed suit, drawing one out for herself and taking her seat. words should have come easily. they did not. irritation flickered inwardly at her own lapse. she straightened once more, centering herself in the discipline that had built her career. aware that he was not inclined toward handshakes, she did not offer one. instead, she reached into her pocket and withdrew her recorder, placing it neatly on the desk between them. *        thank you, mr. sires, for agreeing to speak with me today. i appreciate the opportunity.     * anastasia’s tone sank into familiar cadence, professional and clear. *      for the record, my name is anastasia beaufort, senior investigative correspondent with the daily chronicle. today is the ninth of october, and this interview is being conducted at the sires manor.      * she clicked the recorder on, the soft mechanical sound grounding her. thus, with formalities established, she met his gaze again. *        i have heard interesting things about the way you introduce yourself. the daily magazine, for instance, has noted that you are not inclined toward handshakes. is there a particular reason for that preference, or do you simply choose not to participate in the custom? 

ID: @godsIayer           * her head turned sharply at the sound of movement, curiosity flaring through her with the quick precision of instinct. anastasia felt her breath still before she could prevent it. her gaze moved over him once, unguarded and assessing, before discipline returned it to his face. she reprimanded herself inwardly, forcing her posture upright of composure. but the difficulty lay not in professionalism, it lay in him. his voice reached her first. rich, controlled, edged with a thickened accent that suggested distance rather than affectation. it carried weight without effort. the dark blue suit he wore was cut immaculately, the fabric heavy enough to hold its structure, tailored close across his shoulders. nothing about him appeared accidental. thick lashes shadowed eyes that held her attention longer than she intended, and his features possessed an uncanny symmetry that did not feel theatrical, only precise. she schooled her expression quickly, though her mouth parted for a fraction of a second before she found her voice. *    
            
            how did you know?     * she asked, unable to restrain the question that rose to meet him. his eyes were the first thing that truly unsettled her. piercing jade, darkened at the edges like deep water beneath overcast skies. she did not register how quickly she had turned when he spoke her last name, only that his voice seemed to anchor her in place. for a moment she could not decipher whether she was standing before a man or the carefully preserved myth of one. the distinction between rumor and reality thinned dangerously. she broke eye contact first, glancing toward the shelves on her right, biting the inside of her lower lip in an effort to contain the flicker of embarrassment warming her expression. when she returned her gaze to his, it was searchingly measured. she realized then that she had quietly dismissed the testimonies of those who had described him as intimidating. *