I Won't Go Home Without You

It's simple really. I'm a petty human living amongst predators. I've lost everything I loved. And I'm willing to do anything to forget.

[wisteria-scoher]

Portraiture||Bradin&Wisteria

[wisteriascoher-blog]

Vampire. A simple word that brought back several memories, some pleasant while others she’d prefer forgetting. As soon as she heard it, she turned her head towards Bradin so quickly it seemed as if a shock of electricity ran through her body. It was the first time someone discussed these things so openly with her, at least, someone who appeared to be completely human. The way he spoke so calmly about it too, while most of Brailston’s population couldn’t utter a sentence about the supernatural without at least breaking into a cold sweat. A peculiar man he was, with a face brimming with honesty. One part of her wanted to be on guard, to see if this was perhaps a trap. A lifetime of hiding could do that do a person. The other more trusting part however, wanted to take a liking to this person, for his face had shown no sign of revulsion so far. 

"Wow." She said, hoping her wide eyes could be attributed to surprise. “I’ve never heard such a story before. You were very lucky." Another vampire had once spared her life too, she remembered. Winny gave a quick smile. “I would have been terrified." 

Wisteria avoided the short cuts she usually took, for those paths were narrow and the cobble stones old and some missing. She imagined dragging that cart along was hard enough already. While walking, she thought of something she could tell her companion in return, without alluding to her magic ancestry. He wanted a strange tale? Her life was full of those. 

"I’ve actually run into vampires before. Some of them weren’t very friendly, as you might expect. Others were, which would besurprising I guess. I actually know of one who even married a mortal." She sneaked a quick glance to Bradin, trying to find out his reaction. “Do you…believe beings other than humans are capable of love? I know the church preaches that the supernatural are devil worshippers but…This man really seems to love the mortal." Winny hoped he did. She really wanted to like this man. 

[bradin-carter]

Wisteria had a sweet voice, one that seemed to want to express innocence but Bradin could see right through it. Her curiosity about the vampires reminded him of his own once upon a time having sought such answers his whole life after being saved by Emery fifteen years prior. And even when he had moved to Night Haven Village the amount of creatures that rested there were too many for Bradin to not be fearful. Or at least show any of the fear. He had learned to adapt.

He smiled, adjusting the handles of the cart against his palms. "Many supernaturals were human once, you have to remember. Many of them still try to hold onto that mortality in some way, whether they are conscious about doing it or not. So I guess it really doesn't surprise me that one has found companionship in a mortal. Perhaps they are fighting that more...that more...dominant side to them that is what defines them now. A supernatural may be strong, powerful, able to rip your head off without you thinking about it first, but in the end they are stuck to their own demises. They are just stuck here, you know? Why not feel human about it, if only for a few years,"

Bradin had starred down the road ahead of them now, eyes sort of wandering about. Talk of the unnatural in the world was always an interesting subject for him, and it actually felt nice to speak of it to someone who wasn't plastered at a pub or sitting in his shop begging for more ink to be scared into their skins. And his mind racing with thoughts of the beautiful Collette, and Michael, of Rose...

"Wait, it was Emery and Rose you were talking about?" his thoughts passing away at the realization. "The Frost's? What a small world," Bradin chuckled, shook his head and sighed long and loud. "What a small world, indeed,"

[bradin-carter]

Bradin & Emery || Catch & Release

It was only a matter of days before the vampire would be making an appearance...Bradin could feel it, sense it almost. After all, one does not simply meet with Emery's wife, twice, without him knowing and get away with it. Emery's wife...the most gorgeous lady in Athoria, the most gorgeous creature of magic he had ever had the opportunity to exchange words with. Rose was incredibly kind, subtle in a simple way yet held such a sadness that Bradin wished it were him that could relieve her stress and pain. He could only imagine what she were going through, having given up that pretty little daughter and not having Emery around to hold her hand during her most dire time.

It was thoughts like that that Bradin had to shake away, angrily. He wasn't upset at the vampire and had no right to be; after all Rose was nothing more than a friendly acquaintance and would never be anything more than that. He had other women to worry about, like a dangerous Collette Markham on the prowl in search for something Bradin wasn't sure he could give her and the bar-wenches at the tavern. The man couldn't forget about those catches, could he?

He worked in his backyard, having closed the shop once again for the third or fourth day in a row, and not wanting any company. Being a night person himself Bradin chopped wood pile after wood pile, endlessly, throughout the evening and into the night with only a dimming torch to offer him light. He was conflicted, with Emery and Rose and the baby and the situation. After all, the boy was due for a visit, and it kept Bradin on edge. He mentally prepared himself for an all out verbal war, of hollers and demands of never seeing Rosemary again, and it would all end with Emery ripping out his old friends throat over a silly misunderstanding.

Bradin brought the ax down hard on the wood, shattering the log into uncountable pieces. But it wasn't a misunderstanding; Bradin knew exactly how he felt about Rose. And this, this was the most dangerous part of it all. 

[allergictobitchez]

[bradin-carter]

They asked what I was. What are you? I'm a human, I'm a man. I breathe this air into needy lungs. I infest myself in ragged emotions. I design elegant disasters within my life, through the people I know and the things that I have seen. So what are you? I'm a human. I'm a man. I'm natural to this earth and born with a purpose. I'm cocky and most times I don't care. I shred weakness yet my mind is anything but feeble. I am a man. I am a man. I will protect what is mine and seek revenge with my fists, with my sword, with my shield, with my King. Who are you? My name...is Bradin. And you don't scare me.

[rebecca--anske]

Bradin & Rebecca || These Lies About The Truth Are Innocent

[rebecca--anske]

Rebecca let it go. She let it go only because her way of life and her particular belief in spirituality with Gaia and all things natural wasn’t accepted by some, and she learned to be okay with that. Elki taught her that from the beginning, and even if Rebecca might have taken everything he said a little more literal than most others she cherished her values more than her life.

With Bradin it had been no different. His response was honest and it was what it was. But at the obvious gesture of spending the remainder of the evening together, Rebecca turned to face him with an eyebrow raised. 

"Excuse me?" 

If only he knew how completely capable of being alone in the wilderness she was. Stupid, silly boys… “Perhaps you’re the one who needs accompanied to the castle grounds in the dark, or have you forgotten how nice of a shot I am? I’m a huntress, Bradin, I do not need a bodyguard let alone a silly mortal to pretend to watch over me as he simply checks me out instead,"

Her tone might have came off a little pretentious but Rebecca had always believed in being a gentlemen first and implying such nonsense behaviors second. Of course, that hadn’t been the case with Casper…

Rebecca didn’t like the idea of being her own type of hypocrite. And why did Bradin have to carry such heavy, burdened eyes? They sunk into her whether she wanted them too or not, and she’d be lying to herself if the thought of the slightly older, inked man did not appeal to her physically.

Perhaps she needed to get herself together, and she played with the tip of an arrow as they continued to sit on the hill. She bit her lip, looked away and back down the blackened pathway towards the castle.

"Fine, but under one condition," Rebecca stood, and offered her hand to the man still seated with a precarious grin. “You cook me dinner. If I think it’s satisfactory, I’ll stay. Deal?" 

[bradin-carter]

"Is that all?" Bradin replied easily, with a cheeky grin that matched her own. He grasped her hand, half expecting to pull himself from the ground more so then needing her hand but was surprised to feel the grip against his palm that was strong. Rebecca hauled him with ease, as if he were light as a feather, and Bradin's shocked expression was definitely not hidden well enough.

"Damn woman, you become more of a mystery to me as the minutes pass," he laughed lightly and with an intricate sense of curiosity towards his advanced company. Bradin brushed at his pants. "A woman hunter with an intense memory, the most accurate shot I've ever seen with the most precise advice I've ever received, and the strongest grip I've ever grasped…what even are you?"

It was half a joke, and Bradin searched Rebecca's eyes for some sort of truth or answer. He wasn't unfamiliar with the beasts and creatures and magic of the world but Bradin enjoyed keeping them out of his life as much as possible. It were bad enough he lived in a town crawling with them…but he doubted that Rebecca could cross as anything more than just gifted.

At least he hoped so, because even as he thought of Rebecca changing into something rabid or growing a long set of fangs, or even disappearing completely into the night altogether he had found himself taking that strong hand once more. "Come on then, your supper awaits," And Bradin grinned, leading them down the steep hill and towards the castle-grounds.

Along the way, Bradin's flirtatious side was on cue, never mind it be the anniversary of his family's death or not. He longed for a tall, foaming tankard of ale to wash away any worries or distresses that came with the night. Drinking had always been a temporary release from his memories, and if Rebecca suggested that the permanent removal of them was not recommended, the least the man could do was wash them down in one big gulp.

[wisteria-scoher]

Portraiture||Bradin&Wisteria

[wisteriascoher-blog]

Giddy with satisfaction, she paid him the price he’d asked, though she was left with the want to give him more. Surely such a piece deserved much more than what he’d received. She eyed the portrait, silently wondering if she could carry the whole thing back to her home. Suddenly, her image on such a big surface seemed less of a good idea, especially if there would be other eyes watching it. She felt too shy, too insecure. Really, she’d been more curious as to how he’d capture her image, what technique he’d use and if she’d recognize the result as the girl she saw in the mirror everyday.

Her thoughts stopped to a halt and  she’d realised that he had said something. “It certainly would be lovely to see you again. It’s all the same to me really, though I do think we’ll cross paths again eventually. Call it a woman’s instinct." Walking up to the portrait, she took it with two hands carefully, watching out so she wouldn’t damage the paint. 

"Hm? Oh, dear. It’s gotten quite late already, hasn’t it?" Winny sent him a guilt stricken look, knowing far too well what lingered in the night. She’d experienced it far too much herself, and she wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. Especially not on someone friendly like the man who’d been so kind as to paint her. “You know what? It’s not that far from my shop, I could show you the way if you’d like."

[bradin-carter]

Any remaining part of Bradin that was the flirtatious skirt-chasing boy was awestruck at the request for him to stay in Wisteria’s shop, and he raised his eyebrows curiously at her as he packed the last bit of belongings onto his cart. It seemed careless to allow a stranger refuge, but given the circumstance Bradin would have probably done the same thing. It showed another side of her, actually, a side that ripped the innocence from large chestnut eyes and replaced it with the history of being…hurt? Perhaps. He decided then that she was braver than she appeared.

 "That would be wonderful actually," Bradin said with a smile, boyish grin returning to handsome features once more. There truly were a handful of genuinely nice people in Athoria, odd specie or not, and Bradin was lucky to come across only a handful of those that wished to hurt him. Those memories were never pleasant to remember but they were haunting at times. Still, it was not enough to drive to man away from his homeland and his country, from a King that was barely protecting them and of course a sweet soul like Wisteria’s.

Pulling the cart behind him, Wisteria lead him past the large fountain in the middle of the capital and towards her weaving shop. The creative side of Bradin was looking forward to seeing the different things the young girl was able to make.  

"So tell me something interesting about yourself. And no, I don’t mean which type of fabric is your favorite or how often you wash your hair," Bradin grinned as they walked. “Tell me something…different. Something you don’t tell too often to people," he glanced down at her, “Here, I’ll start. Are you ready? Once I was attacked by a vampire, do you believe in that sort of thing? The supernaturals, I mean. But here’s the interesting part…" he paused for a moment, "…another one saved me from it, and let me live afterwards. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen,"

[wisteria-scoher]

Portraiture||Bradin&Wisteria

Wisteria hated numbers and calculating things. Hated them with a passion. But when one ran a shop, one had to do these things. There was no magic spell for it, sadly. So here she was, sitting in the back of her shop, trying to note the right calculations. Her mother had been right, women were not fit for these things. 

Her fingers tapped against the desk. One, two, three taps. The taps almost formed a small melody as one eyebrow raised in frustration while she glared at the sheets of paper. She stopped glaring as soon as she realised she was burning holes in the document. Literally. With her gaze. Magick had a way of popping up when she experienced heavy emotions. ”No, no, no!” She jumped up and tried to blow out the small flames that were forming. That only made more flames appear. She turned around and grabbed her spell book, flipping through it until she found the right spell. After she’d finally managed to put the fire out (and had cleaned the smoldering ashes that had once been the calculations of her profit and loss), she sat down, put her head on the desk and made a vow.

“I am getting an accountant.”

Nuala looked at her, tilting her head. Great. Now even her familiar was judging her. But it made Wisteria fully realise she couldn’t keep lying with her head on the desk, even if she wanted to. She had a wolf dog to feed. Pets before business. 

With a new goal in sight, she dressed herself to go out. She untangled her curls, grabbed a cloak and was ready to face the outside world. 

On her way, she realised that there were people standing around something. She couldn’t see what just yet, but it had to be something good. Curiosity got the best of her as she stepped closer. A man was sitting with an easel close by, painting something. Her eyes landed on the work of art and she was surprised by how beautiful and life-like it looked. She continued staring without realising, even as others left. After a while, she noticed the tattoos and was torn between growing uncomfortable and admiring those too. 

She looked to the other paintings and smiled. “Those are beautiful.” Wisteria spoke up. “All of them.” 

[bradin-carter]

Evening was beginning to set in Brailston, a city in which Bradin greatly loved to travel when given the chance. It was one of his easier journeys as Night Haven was not too far and the road to and from was promising, and busy. Besides, the capital of Athoria was most populated and Bradin was able to sell an array of his work, as well get his name out there about his tattoo shop in Night Haven. Sometimes Bradin would bring his talent when it came to inking skin with him to the cities, yet he preferred the quiet setting of his village more than often in order to further concentrate, and for privacy. He could still, however, spread word of his other form of art when making a sale or two in the opposing cities.

And so by the fountain in the middle of the city Bradin had set up shop early in the day and sported his paintings and sculptures, as well as a few pieces of pottery that he had just started to mess around with. Although they weren’t of anything spectacular he could learn from the feedback of his potential clients what to improve, as well as their likes and dislikes about the pieces. Bradin was constantly looking for ways to satisfy his customers, and that was just what they were to him. Friends were not something that Bradin craved anymore in the world, although being still young and in his late twenties he wished for a little more excitement in his life, he didn’t believe he could find them in a social gathering. Unless of course it was at Thirst, and then he could simply drink away the worries with Michael or the other regulars that made their weekly appearance.

With the sun threatening to rid Bradin of the necessary light he would obviously need to complete more work, he thanked the people standing by for their compliments. He hated to have to clean up so early in order to make his way back to Night Haven before the sun completely ridded itself of her presence, but it was required. Bradin wasn’t terrified of the nights yet he was fully aware of the creatures and supernaturals that resided in Athoria, and if Bradin could avoid an interaction with either one, or both, then the day was considered successful. 

Yet at the sound of a sweet and soft voice complimenting his work, Bradin’s hazel eyes rested into those of dark brown. He offered her a nod and a smile, “Thank you. My shop is in Night Haven on the main strip if you are ever around. Bradin Perkins. But if you’ll excuse me, I must clean up,"

Bradin stood from his place at the easel and stretched, muscles in both arms and back flexing to release the stiffness they endured while painting. His spine cracked and he dropped his arms at his sides loosely. The girl was still standing there, curiosity resting in her eyes as they continued to wander over the pieces of art that Bradin was moments away from packing onto his cart. 

"See anything you like? I can take a bit off the price if you wish, unless you had something else in mind?"

[siyahbranul-deactivated20161023]

[bradin-carter]

You could never say no to this. Give it up.

[bradin-carter]

Smashed Into Pieces || Collette & Bradin

[cole-markham-blog]

A simple invite in; it was always pleasurable. It welcomed Collette for the rest of eternity basically, & even though she assumed Bradin knew that all too well the woman took easy steps into the darkened establishment. 

The instant smell of strong lead & abrasive paint struck her senses first, along with the stench of something stale in the small kitchen to the right of the door. To her immediate left was a spiral, wooden staircase leading to a second floor, & as her dress dragged against the floorboards she continued to take steps inside. The dark was no matter to her yet she heard Bradin fumble behind her with a candle & match from his pocket. 

No, the shop & home of Bradin was not exactly what she was “used" to but Collette had seen worse. After all, the shop she owned in Chile Village wasn’t exactly anything to own up to relating to higher social status & yet weekly she was seen inside, without care of what others thought. She was a Queen, in the end, & Collette would go & be seen with whomever she pleased. Bradin had no negative affect on her so far, & as long as he intended to keep it that way then she personally did not see the harm in befriending him for her own purposes.

Besides, the urge to tangle her fingers in the scruff of that beard was somewhat overbearing.

"So you’re a painter? Amongst other things?" she spoke more direct than questioning, noticing the larger room beyond the front door & kitchen. It was the entire length of his home, with more canvases & paintings than she had seen in even larger businesses. “It is a rare gift, to not only master the art of transferring sight to paper but to make your inks as well, is it not? I’ve always had an admiration for the talent. My home itself carries arts & frames dating back hundreds of years,"

She spoke quietly, brushing gentle fingertips against the surfaces of select paintings & enjoying the way their portraits bounced against the set of candles that Bradin had lit around the room. 

"This one," she paused at an unfinished sketch from lead against a piece of parchment that was torn & frayed, as if it had been burned. “has a story…I can feel its pain almost," her nail traced the outline of an old, sickly looking man & her face fell to that of concern. “He must have meant something to you, your Father, for shadowing him in such a distraught way…"

She might had snuck into his mind, snaked around his memories without Bradin so much as flinching or feeling anything at all. An elder had the power to do many great things, & trick her enemies (or anyone she wanted) was one of them. Of course, Collette really did not want to trick Bradin. He seemed to be interested in her all on her own, & the glamouring & manipulating of those that were already willing was not exactly what she called fun.

She also might have been able to get lost inside those hazel eyes of his, especially the way they were looking at her now. He was standing directly behind her, having moved to be in her presence & watch as she analyzed his work. & when their eyes met once again Collette could feel the depth of both sadness & impression resting deep within his very well being.

"You should probably kiss me now,"

[bradin-carter]

Bradin didn't exactly need any further inquisition to impose upon Collette's request.

Between watching her feed seductively in the ally to hearing her soundless steps as they walked through Night Haven…from how even against faded moonlight her physical presence screamed calamity against her skin, to the way she held back no impending knowledge and impressiveness for his skill as an artist…from the way Bradin knew that underneath that society ridden dress of wealthy nonesense and prestige held a body too glamourous for meer middle class words. Yet the fact that Collette had the capability to succumbing to middle class standards in the form of nothing more than wanting to be sexual pleased made Bradin crave her even more.

From all of that and more were reasons why Bradin could not give a fuck about Collette's specie and, more importantly, that she was a rich bitch hiding behind an entrancing face. And Bradin did not just kiss her, he attacked her, without the fear of loosing a limb to her strength or the worry of messing up that silk dress against the paints on the table. Because that dress didn't last more than a few seconds against his rough hands, and when he complied to her simple and entrancing invitation Bradin moved his lips equally as rough against hers. Instantaneously, Bradin's hand grabbed at the fabric against Collette's legs and revved them up to bundle her hips. And immediately after they cupped the backs of her bare thighs and perched the woman atop the counter of his drawing table. 

Nuzzled between her legs, Bradin's hands wandered against the smoothest skin he'd ever felt. He gripped at her hips from under the mess of fabric now lining her torso and dug his thumbs into the bones against her sides. She smelled delicious and it didn't phase Bradin to wonder about the meal she had consumed earlier that still coursed the insides of her mouth, one that he claimed and bit at demandingly. Instead he indulged, always being one to savor opportunities and deciding on a whim that ones like this wouldn't come around too often. 

Besides, being around more vampires than he had wished cause the man to fortunately have heard how feisty these species were when they were anticipating their more sensual desires. And if that didn't turn even the most stubborn of humans on then maybe his simple race really did deserve to be at the bottom of the food chain for the rest of their lives.

He was thinking dangerous things to do to this woman in order to get her to a place that Bradin himself desired. He was also hoping that the invitation for a kiss wasn't only as literal as Collette had said.

Bradin sucked at the skin against her collarbone, and with one hand relieved her of any undergarment Collette wouldn't be needing. And being too eager for his own good, Bradin dropped in front of the table to get a good taste of the insides of her thighs.

[bradin-carter]

i will fucking wait for you.

[bradin-carter]

Smashed Into Pieces || Collette & Bradin

[cole-bby-blog]

Although not her typical expectation from her kindred when it came to a mate or company in general, Collette could not find a bother about this man that would steer her away from accompanying him to where ever it was that he was leading her. Even Michael, to this day & whether a direct member of De la Nuit or not, still dressed to match his age & social status. If seen with him then it were deemed as appropriate & normal, for his stature was proud as he was tall & Michael always tended to have a way about him that made Collette feel safe, & protected. A companion in both friendship & intimacy was supposed to be like that…then again, a companion to Collette was something she’d never agree to again.

Not ever. Not after Michael.

Bradin’s steps were heavy & dignified, & they matched the pace of his words & how even though he was strolling besides a creature that could easily rip his throat out without hesitation he spoke honestly. It was an attractive quality to have & one that Collette noted. She had been told about the distastes of her specie before by one named Stephen Freeman more times than she were able to count, & others of a particular animalistic specie that Collette, upon remembering, had to push back into her elder mind as far as she could. Thinking of how the vampires were disliked as much by so many, bother human & supernatural, brought a rivalry instinct to dwell inside a stubborn mind. 

“I’m not upset,” Collette stated firmly yet kept her voice at a social level. “But I doubt you know as much as you claim, Mr. Carter,”

Her fingers laced against his forearm, long legs able to easily keep step to Bradin’s pace through the center of Night Haven. 

“We are naturally inclined to be rivals against most other species, yes, but there are exceptions. There are always exceptions. Some species wouldn’t stand a chance against someone like me, depending on age & perhaps a certain skill level. Angels, for one. Or witches,” she sighed. “There will always be war, Bradin. Humans against humans, vampires against vampires…it’s all the same, don’t you see? The stronger specie wins, the weaker specie submits. & to live in peace & harmony between supernaturals is just a silly dream that most leaders have. One day, Athoria will destroy itself. There are too many opinons, too many kings or queens, too many places to hide & far too much hatred. 

I’m not a saint. I won’t pretend to have a natural distaste for particular species & I won’t pretend that I haven’t killed just to kill due to my own entertainment. But we all must do what we need to survive. Only some of us are cut out to be immortal. Only some of us are strong enough to lead their kin into war,”

Collette’s last words lingered, slicing at the air around the couple & haunted even her own ears. She glanced up at Bradin, expecting to see a clenched jaw & darting eyes. She expected to sense fear overcome his body & radiate from him like so many other humans of Athoria would do when placed in a situation like the one he stood strongly in. But there was none of that, nothing to grab onto when it came to his feelings except that the grin on his face remained slightly hidden from his growing beard shifted as his own eyes did to hers. & when they were latched once again Collette cleared her throat, as if taken aback from his cool behavior.

She looked away & added a noticeable pep to her voice, “We should talk about something else; I’m not a fan of reminiscing. Where are we going, Mr. Carter? You plan on taking me home for the remainder of the evening?”

[bradin-carter]

All thoughts of mystical fights and shining knights bashing swords against dirty armor, of ferocious fangs and dripping pools of innocent blood, of burning homes in their countrysides and the falling of the birthmark fountain in the middle of Brailston diminished the moment Bradin thought of Collette unclothed in his bed and submitting to him, instead of the other way around.

The conversation about war would just have to wait.

"That was the plan,"

It was a fun, white lie and one that he knew this obvious elder would catch onto, and he paired it with a matching grin. Initially the intent on what to do with Collette once she had mentioned being bored earlier brought his mind to race of dirty things; from seeing that extravagantly expensive dress bundled in a messy heap against his floorboards to brushing his lips against the paleness of her inner thighs, exploring...teasing...

He cleared his throat, yet the boyish grin remained.

"I was going to take you to my shop, which just so happens to be my home as well. So you can take whatever information you want from that, m'lady,"

His shop was never somewhere he felt unsafe. Never had Bradin been attacked in his home and never had he a line of angry customers throwing tomatoes at his windows for something deemed as unfair. If anything, this place was his own escape into a collection of worlds that screamed out at him from different canvases and collaborations of color. He'd never be embarrassed by his work, only prideful.

"It's probably not nearly as fancy as your used to but there is no place like home,"

In front of the two-story brick building he motioned for Collette to follow him up the three stoned steps and onto the small landing. With a small brass key he unlocked the door and pushed it open. "After you," 

[freeandwillspirit]

[bradin-carter]

I Don't Want To Speak These Words || Bradin & Rosemary

[rosemary-mclain-frost]

The young woman wanted to protest as Bradin pushed the small drawing back to her chest but could not find the will to speak her mind, instead clutching the bit of paper in her hand and pressing it to her heart. Allowing the man to guide her back to her seat, she sunk into the cushions with a weak moan, pressing her hand to her side as another wave of pain cut through her. She almost did not hear the words, staring in confusion a moment before shaking her head and reaching out for him to desperately cling at his shirt.

“No, no please…” She plead in horror, green eyes filled with fear at the thought of being left alone. “Please don’t leave me.”

Bradin easy pulled away from the loose hold she had on him as he stood and making his way to the door. “Please… Bradin?” She whispered in a barely audible voice, her words getting lost as she watched the door close, leaving her alone once more. “Bradin?”

Rosemary took a slow deep breath in and out, looking around the room with wide eyes in a failed attempt to calm herself. Trying to focus on something, anything, to distract her from the reality she now had to face on her own. “Em…” The name came from trembling lips as she knew that she could not do as Bradin had asked and call out to her husband. “Emery…” She repeated, the task of simply speaking the word having a brief but soothing effect. As much as she wanted to call out to him, she knew that she could not. Emery had to finish this. If the man had any hope of regaining control over his own mind he had to purge himself of this monster and she would do nothing to jeopardize that. Rosemary understood what she meant to him and knew that if he had any idea of what was happening to her that he would fight tooth and nail to be by her side. Which was why she had to suffer this alone, even going as far as to block her mind from him. Temporarily breaking their connection so that he would not sense that she was in pain or, heaven forbid, her death.

Laying her head back against the cushions, Rosemary struggled to keep her panicked breaths at a steady pace. Closing her eyes and feeling the tears streak down her cheeks as she continued to weakly cry out the name of her husband. It was suddenly very real. The baby, this life, it was no longer a distant fear. The dreaded moment had finally come. As her world began to grow dark, the young witch found herself praying. Begging the spirits of the earth to have mercy on their daughter and her child. That for once in her troubled life she would be safe from harm and her child would not be cursed to suffer as she had. She longed to watch as her baby opened its eyes and breathed life into its lungs, wanting nothing more than to know that she had done something right in protecting a child of her own flesh and blood. If only for a moment. A warm blanket of pins and needles enveloped her pale body as she fell limp, head falling to the side and her eyes closing in exhaustion.

The front door opened once more as Rosemary’s nurse followed Bradin back into the room; she immediately found the ghostly pale woman laying still on the couch, saying nothing to the man as she brushed the dark locks of hair from the woman’s face and felt her wrist for a pulse. “Are you the husband?” She asked quickly, propping Rose up a bit to try and wake her up. “Emery? Are you Emery?” The woman snapped when her patient suddenly opened her eyes once more, “Rose, it’s okay. You’re going to be alright, I sent for Susan. She’ll be here shortly. Can you walk?” Without waiting for a response, the nurse slipped her arm around Rosemary’s back and lead her to the back room, calling out to Bradin as she left. “Stay out here, I’ll call if you are need.”

Rosemary forced her eyes back open, heavy steps bringing her closer to the room she feared she would spend her last moments in. Glancing back up to Bradin a moment, her gaze locked with his just at the door was shut. Her once vibrant eyes were sickly and pale, trying to convey a message of gratitude before the outside world was shut away and she was laid back to finally face her fate.

Hours passed, the bright sun falling in the sky to splash the world into a golden shade of orange and crimson. The brilliant colours spilled through the window panes to dance through the halls of the Frost home, dimly illuminating the solemn atmosphere. Susan had only spoken a few words, feeling sick with stress as she paced the floor back and forth again and again, watching as her shadow stretched out from her feet to play along the wall with the setting sun. Endlessly worrying over the safety of what would soon be her baby and unable to accept the fact that she may once again have to suffer the pain of losing a child. Be it to illness or to Rosemary. Her steps quickened at the thought of the young mother changing her mind but came to a sudden halt at the sound of a baby’s cry. Clutching her dress she spun around, looking to Bradin for a sign of how to respond. Unsure of whether to be frightened or ecstatic. The woman had gotten herself so worked up that the mere sound of the door opening startled her back. She nervously looked up to the nurse, mocking the smile that appear on the woman’s lips.

“You two can come in now.” The once short tempered nurse sang sweetly, stepping aside to allow Susan entrance into the small room.

Rosemary sat with her back propped up against the wall, cradling a small bundle in her arms with a shy smile on her lips as she gazed down into a curious pair of striking blue eyes. Lightly brushing her fingers over a blush cheek, the woman shook her head in amazement. Still unable to grasp that any of this was real, finding it easier to believe that this was only a trick of the mind or even a dream she would soon wake from. Rosemary laughed as the small child wrapped tiny fingers around her mother’s single digit, quietly inspecting the world around her as the moon lifted up high into the sky.

Looking up with her green eyes now full of life, Rosemary found Bradin with an astonished grin. “I have a daughter.”

[bradin-carter]

He caught himself from saying, quite abruptly, "That baby is not your's remember?", even if it were the truth and even if Rosemary needed to give the child up. Susan was a strange woman in Bradin's eyes yet he was not placed in that situation to judge. Besides, just about everyone was strange to him, including the bundle craddled in Rose's arms.

The flashbacks were inevitable, there wasn't any use in trying to prepare for them while he and the soon to be mother were pacing around outside in the hall. He remembered his eldest daughter, for the first year, crying when her sister would cry and laughing when she would. She did it on purpose, she said, so that her little sister wouldn't feel alone in whatever it was that she was feeling or needed.

That child always was a brilliant pain in the ass.

"She's beautiful,"

It was dark save a handful of candles. The man imagined that Emery would be making an appearance soon, that whatever it was he was doing could wait a fucking moment considering his wife just gave birth to a child she couldn't keep. Even the little creature on the steps watching the whole  event wouldn't be as valuable as Emery's comfort in the end. And Bradin's definitely wouldn't do it any justice, either.

Susan was reaching for the child and was sobbing quite grossly in Bradin's opinion. The man crossed his arms and leaned his against the door frame, just watching. The nurse was cleaning up an unfriendly mess of dirty sheets and water, and other things that would be required if the natural pregnancy had gone haywire...sharper things...

Bradin shuddered.

He needed to go. It was time to go. He wasn't sure if he could deal with a heartbroken cry from Rose as she handed over the child, and even though there was a chance that a fist-fight might break out with the winner being the owner of a fresh newborn, Bradin's place was no longer at the Frost residence.

His head fell slightly and a small, shy smile enveloped his lips. Regardless he was grateful to have been there.

Without daring to capture Rose's eyes again in fear that he might be the one in the fist-fight with a protective vampire with the prize being a more than beautiful, breathlessly enchanting and strong woman named Rosemary Frost, Bradin turned from the door. He grabbed his cloak, swung it around his shoulders and headed straight for Thirst.

[bradin-carter]

No words. Just moves.

[rebecca--anske]

Bradin & Rebecca || These Lies About The Truth Are Innocent

[rebecca--anske]

“Yes,”

Rebecca’s answer came more quickly than she was sure Bradin had anticipated but it was her honest opinion, and Rebecca was not one to lie when being asked a direct question of her own feelings. She had settled next to the man, legs spread like his and had leaned back on her palms. The ground was barely damp and the blades of grass on the hill were very cool against a naturally warm body. The scent, in particular, upon that hill was noticably intoxicating. Whether it be the mixture from the tree resting behind them and the deep musk that extracted from Bradin, Rebecca was not sure. Either way, it was relaxing and wrapped a warm blanket of comfort around her small body. 

Rebecca always felt best when someone could confide in her, to ask her questions regarding events or situations or decisions in ones life that were intolerable or difficult. Her advice was given without pride, without her nose being stuck up into the air and the feeling that she was better than anyone else in that moment. It was honest and wholehearted, like her mother used to bestow upon her before she were a teenager, and even if the person she was telling her opinion to chose not to take her knowledge, than Rebecca ramined okay with that. It was an honor, to her, to just be able to have someone else trust her enough with their secrets. After all, Rebecca would hope for someone to do the same for her.

“Erasing memories is selfish, Bradin, no matter which way you look at it. Your family is a part of you; they shaped you into who you are today and the morals that flow through your veins. I did not know them, but the intensity that streams off of your body is filled with grief to this day. I know that your family would not have wanted this from you, and to have them erased would be a dishonor upon their name. It must be hard, I’m sure, to try to live with their memory and still be happy, but you are strong I can tell. I know you can do this. Please just have faith in yourself,”

She would be lying if erasing the memories of her younger siblings and parents from her head had never crossed her mind while she had grieved their loss, yet Rebecca today was grateful that she never followed through with any such plan. Today, she felt as if she were stronger than before; knowing that she could face any obstacle that came before her and overcome the barriers that wanted to desperately to trap her into a depression. 

The sun was still fading, not quite setting for another few minutes, and she stared with intricate eyes over the large hill towards the castle. 

“We have all seen loss in our life. Acceptance is not impossible. I promise,”

[bradin-carter]

She was right. Of course she was, but it didn't stop Bradin from snorting at Rebecca's soothing and honest words. They were sweet and seemed to come from a place deep within her that Bradin knew her own tragic loss rested. Perhaps Rebecca had come to terms with the loss of her family or whoever it was that she mourned once, but Bradin had not. And today he would not be starting.

"Whatever," he huffed with a cool demeanor, as hazel eyes squinted against the setting sun and threatened to blind his mortal sight. A part of him wanted to continue to argue about the matter; to tell Rebecca off until she admitted that he was right, and that the erasing of memories wasn't a dishonorable as she claimed. 

Yet Bradin was forever the stubborn man, even before he had met his late wife when he was but a boy and especially before he had his blessed daughters. Some things would never change and Bradin wanted to hold onto that. After all, Rebecca was a stranger and someone who simply pitied him. She might have called it fate that they so happened to run into each other after four years but Bradin stuck with the mindset that it was simply coincidence. The fire wasn't uncommon news. Even when the man moved to Night Haven he couldn't walk down the busy streets without the shaking of heads or the overly sympathetic gestures. And it was even worse with his clients. 

The last thing he wanted to talk about while painting a portrait of some snobby, rich bitch in Monir was his dead family.

Rebecca did not push the subject, and Bradin began to question whether or not she even cared. They sat in silence with only the snapping of a twig between Bradin's fingers and the growing sounds of the crickets and frogs from the surrounding forests to envelop their ears. He watched as Rebecca's eyes barely shifted from the place where the sun had set behind the large mountain yet her ears twitched on the occasion as if hearing something that Bradin could not.

It was odd.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Bradin decided to speak after the sun had vanished and black began to emerge them on the high hill. He pushed himself up from his place on the ground to be level with Rebecca and rolled his shoulders to crack the knots between his muscles. "There's a place in the castle grounds, an old friend you might say, that has a few extra rooms he offers the travelers," 

Bradin leaned against Rebecca's arm and nudged her slightly, a cheeky yet subtle grin resting against his lips. It felt good to smile. "Would you like to come? I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you out here by yourself, it's quite dangerous,"

[91beauty-blog]

[bradin-carter]

Pick a face. Pick a life. Pick a dream.

[bradin-carter]

I Don't Want To Speak These Words || Bradin & Rosemary

[rosemary-mclain-frost]

The room morphed and twisted around the woman’s weakening body, her eyes closing against the dizzying scene as she blindly reached out for a handhold, finding Bradin’s shoulder and squeezing lightly for both support and distraction from the undue amount of pain coursing under her skin. She had only barely heard the words. A hushed voice with a soft cadence floating just out of reach, waiting to be processed by her wandering mind. Fear began to choke her, frightening images of what could be happening to her child to cause this much pain tortured her mind. Horrified that something had gone terribly wrong and there was nothing that she could do to stop it, not for one moment even considering that she was going into labour until she finally understood Bradin’s words of concern and the need to be taken to a doctor.

She opened her mouth to speak but could not find the strength to voice her thoughts through the waves of pain and instead tightened her grip on Bradin’s shoulder, pulling herself up to stand but immediately losing her sense of balance to fall forward slightly against the mans chest. Rosemary helplessly pressed her cheek against Bradin, a man who was practically a stranger to her, as trembling fingers clung to his shirt to keep from collapsing to the floor.

“Bradin, help.” She managed to whisper in a weak voice, “My stomach… and back… please…”

Her eyes widened in terror at the thought of the baby being born premature, having heard countless horror stories of both mother and child dying from the trauma. She felt completely helpless, only able to cling to this kind gentleman and shiver as her body rebelled against the child, threatening to sacrifice her along with it. Her lip trembled, wanting more than anything to have Emery by her side and holding her hand. Remembering that he had gone was driving her to a panic, afraid that she would never see the man again. Looking back over her shoulder, Rose found the tiny drawing of her and her husband and gently took it into her hand, rubbing her thumb over the sketch of Emery.

“I have a nurse… she’s just down the road but… I don’t think… I can walk…” She forced herself to speak as one wave dissipated, only able to sit back and wait for the next to crash over her. “Can you help me?”

Rosemary looked back down to the drawing and smiled sadly, wishing that she could instead look upon the face of the man himself but happy that she could see his image nonetheless. “I’m not due for two more months… If… If something should happen. Please…” The woman held up the picture with a wavering sigh, ” …give this to him. 

[bradin-carter]

Bradin's hand reached over top of Rosemary's trembling one, and gently he pushed her fist back against her body with the drawn picture of Emery and herself safe inside her grasp. He stuttered to find the right words, not being able to place anything he really wanted to say into the right phrase. Instead he got to his feet, continuing to brush back her hair from a pale and sweating face. "Lay back," he managed to say, barely pushing back on Rose's shoulders to guide her into the chair. 

Rose's pain ignited harsh memories inside his head, and he selfishly wanted to hold onto them in order to have some poor excuse not to be able to take care of her. The artist wanted nothing more than to continue his simple life of painting and drawing. He wanted to make enough money to get by and continue to drink merrily at Thirst with the other humans in Night Haven. He didn't want to deal with Emery or the questions the vampire would have of why Bradin took such an interest in his wife.

And he sure as hell didn't want to be involved while Rosemary potential met a horrible fate in Emery's absence. Bradin knew all too well the temper of that boy; had witnessed it first hand countless times, and even though Bradin hadn't seen him in a while, he couldn't imagine Emery would be pleased.

"Call to him, Rose. Tell him to get his cocky, stubborn ass here now, and I'll be back. I promise," 

Turning his back, walking away and closing the door to the Frost residence and the crying woman inside was quite possibly the worst emotion Bradin had felt in a very long time. Once outside and the rays from Athoria's sun was shining harshly against Bradin's exposed arms yet offering little warmth in the colder weather, the human pressed his back against the large wooden door. He breathed in deep, closing hazel eyes, and internally gave himself a small pep talk.

Deep down, Bradin was as cocky as Emery. He wasn't level-headed most nights at the tavern and could really give a two shits if his views on the government offended those around him or not. He spoke his mind and had his fair share of knife fights and small battle wounds to show for his outspokenness. The man didn't think that this would be introduced in his life again; witnessing the birth of a child, being reminded so heartedly of his dead wife and experiencing the nostalgic and fatherly character traits that he had done so well at hiding over the past four years.

Bradin pushed off against the door and started down the walkway, cloak swaying behind him with every step of his boots and small beads of sweat beginning to drip off of his scruff. He itched at it annoyingly as he aimed for the part of Night Haven where he imagined the nurse would be; near a herb and medicine store that he had witnessed Rosemary coming from the first day he had set eyes on the beautiful witch.

The main strip that ran along the very heart of Night Haven was packed mid-day, and Bradin brushed passed the crowd while bumping into shoulders and pushing meager people out of his way. He heard them grumble and call him out by first name yet the man went on. He passed his own home and closed shop, picked up his pace and attempted to strain his mind away from Rosemary sitting alone in pain. Horrible images of coming back to the house and finding her dead invaded his already panicking mind, and he saw the look on Emery's face as he bashed Bradin's face in with powerful, supernatural fists for allowing him to let his wife die.

Once at the shop, Bradin stormed him. Ignoring the looks of question by both customer and employee, the man had officially reached a decent level of panic.

"Please, I need help. I'm in search of the nurse of Mrs. Rosemary Frost. She is pregnant and in early labor. Tell me you know who and where this nurse is, she has to be here....she has to be!"

[bradin-carter]

Smashed Into Pieces || Collette & Bradin

[cole-bby-blog]

Her skin tingled, as if mountains of utter desire & weeks without having any sort of man, whether immortal or not, was about to start clouding delicate visions towards the ultimate goal that Collette had planned for the evening. She was supposed to see Emery then head back home to her haven, to her mansion in Monir without worrying her guards or missing too much action from her councils. Just outside of the village, waiting for her return from the Frost residence, was her intricate carriage & some of her members, eager to take their queen back home to De la Nuit & away from the side of the country she more or less least traveled to nowadays. Even after Michael had departed from the clan to start his business with Thirst in the village, Collette had gave him his space. Also, considering he had found another vampire whore to call his companion, Collette preferred the wealthier part of the country anyway.

Needless to say, Night Haven wasn’t somewhere she visited too often. Yet with the flicker of interest resting inside of his eyes, Collette imagined that this man was a resident as well, & that he probably hadn’t seen action like that in some time.

Even if she were wrong, Collette was hypnotized by the dark green orbs that scanned her body regardless. It was brave of him to act in such a manner around a creature like her, even if he didn’t know of her true strength & age, & the potential threat that she held over his life was that much more of a turn on for a lustful queen.

“I have others to take care of the mess. I wouldn’t get my hands dirty off of scum like him if my life depended on it,” she said to him & gave a loud sigh as her fangs retracted back into her gums. “I think you wish for company tonight, no? I see the lack of fear in your eyes…are you not scared of me?”

She moved to face him in a flash, standing so close to his chest that they barely grazed each others touch. Close up he smelled of the brandy in which he spoke of, the warmth of it circulating his mortal veins like a river & entrancing Collette’s bloodthirsty demeanor into a frenzy. A sharp fingernail traced against his demanding jawline, pricking at the scruff against his cheeks & finally outlining a set of lips that were erotically fascinating. She liked how he was a little older than most men she physically enjoyed in Athoria, for the young immortal ones were still strong & aged. But no, this man…he was alluring & struggled, with a burdon so heavy that Collette could feel it leaning heavy upon sturdy shoulders. He was damaged & the emotions that radiated from his human soul reflected that of both curiosity & sin. 

But still, fear was no where to be found.

“You haven’t given me an answer yet, Bradin. I could find out, you know, easily in fact. But I’m sure you don’t want me to take a trip through your mind so early in our relationship, do you?” she smiled, “So what do you say we spend some time together tonight?”

Collette ran her hands up his arms, feeling his cold skin through his attire due to the colder season in Athoria & found herself biting at her lip once again, a part of her embarrassed from the handful of questions she had asked this man in a matter of minutes. Still, it felt oddly comfortable, & Collette decided to hold on to that for the time being. 

[bradin-carter]

Bradin's hazel eyes found the swirling specks of blue against Collette's light sapphire irises entrancing, and he dug into them almost unwillingly. He was a smart man and knew the ventures that vampires liked to engage in. He knew that they enjoyed their feeding in both the animalistic ways that he had just witnessed not moments prior and with blood from elegant wine glasses in the beautiful mansions of eastern Athoria. He knew that creatures like Collette, who was already hypnotizing in her own unique way in both features as well as obvious social class, enjoyed seducing their prey into stages of delusion and some other word that Bradin had long forgotten.

He wondered if Collette was performing such powers on him, because he could not look away and even if he wanted to Bradin felt the strongest urge to return her touch against his arms with his rough hands streaming through perfect blonde hair. 

Of course, to such a woman of high standards Bradin imagined that would be quite rude.

Instead he offered a smile, which could have been mistaken for a cocky smirk against the scruff of his cheeks and the becoming of his cold lips from the chill in the ally. 

"You're very direct, and I assume you are used to getting what you desire," he said, watching the way the pale skin against her own dominate cheekbones moved when red stained lips grinned back. "If I'm being honest, however, I am a little taken aback. And I'd also be contradicting in my...judgements,"

He moved, keep his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket and holding out his arm for Collette to take, and when she gracefully did the human began out of the ally as he continued. 

"Your kind, the vampires, of Athoria are not exactly my favorite, more or less," he laughed lightly, "yet it seems that they always make an appearance in my life whether I like it or not. Funny how that works, no? One saved my life when I was but a boy and I've tried to remain on good terms with him, a handful of others are continuous clients of mine, and another is, well, a drinking friend of mine you might say. I know everything about them, all your tricks and motives. Yet for some reason I hold a distaste. I'm not sure why, and I hope you don't take it the wrong way. I'm sure there are tons of other species out there that you aren't exactly favorable towards,"

It felt good to talk a bit and have ears to listen that weren't passing out against the bar at Thirst or customers that only really cared if Bradin would drop the price of one of his paintings by being overly nice. And as they walked down the dark streets of Night Haven, the vampiress clinging to his arm as if they had done such events a thousand times before, Bradin became strangely more comfortable than he had in a long time.