✧ lady darcy✧

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane watched the entire performance unfold exactly the way he had expected it would. The subtle way the woman’s eyes lost focus whenever Eleanor spoke. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing at first. Instead, he gently guided Miss Grace toward the kitchen, speaking to her in a low, patient tone that had nothing to do with Eleanor’s theatrics and everything to do with giving the woman a moment of dignity that Eleanor had clearly stolen from her. Only after that did he return to the living room. When he sat down and pulled her onto his lap, it wasn’t gentle or romantic. It was a deliberate move meant to keep her exactly where he could watch her. The moment she started mocking him, his eyes rolled toward the ceiling with a long-suffering exhale. God, she was exhausting sometimes. But despite that, his hand still settled at her waist, steady and possessive, like letting her wander off was somehow worse. “Flirting?” Kane repeated flatly, one dark brow lifting as he looked at her. “Trust me, Eleanor, if I were flirting with you, you’d know.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the kitchen, making sure Miss Grace was still out of earshot before returning to the vampire sprawled against him like she owned the place. “She doesn’t have an original thought right now,” he corrected calmly. “Because you took them.” His tone wasn’t angry. It was worse, tired. Kane leaned back slightly against the couch, fingers tightening just a little at Eleanor’s side as she traced his jaw. “You say it like it’s clever,” he went on, voice low. “Charming people so you can use them. Eating from them. Turning them into furniture for your convenience.” Another eye roll followed, this one slower. “Congratulations. You’ve mastered the ancient vampire skill of being selfish. We don't have to live like that anymore. We have a choice." Despite the words, he didn’t move her off his lap. If anything, he shifted her slightly so she sat more securely there. When she called into the kitchen, Kane pinched the bridge of his nose with a quiet sigh. “Incredibly boring friend,” he muttered, shaking his head before looking back at her with a dry, unimpressed stare. “You know,” he said, voice dropping just slightly, “I’m not boring, Eleanor.” His voice dropped slightly, firm but calm. “I live by my own terms. That’s called discipline.” His thumb tapped once against her hip. “Something you’ve spent the last century trying very hard to prove you don’t have.” Another pause. His thumb tapped once against her hip. Then, despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “And before you start,” he added lazily, “no, keeping you on my lap isn’t flirting.” A beat. “It’s containment. I’ve gotta keep you on my lap,” he said dryly, thumb brushing once against her side, “because the moment I let you wander off, you start treating the locals like a walking buffet.” His eyes rolled again, though there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth now. “So until you prove you can behave," he added calmly, leaning back into the couch like he had every intention of staying exactly where he was, “containment seems like the responsible option.”

[eleancrdarcy]

“everyone flirts with me. sometimes you just struggle to tell the difference when i’m sitting on your lap,” she pointed out with a smirk tugging at her lips. she loved getting under his skin. eleanor noticed the way his attention shifted back to the woman and immediately rolled her eyes. “oh please, she doesn’t need a fucking speech about morality. yes, i’m a selfish vampire, congratulations, you cracked the case,” she scoffed, trying to slide off his lap only for him to keep her there. “my choice is doing whatever i want, and having her here means no vampire can get inside, so yes, i’ll keep her alive while i use her place.” she shrugged carelessly. “it would’ve been easier to charm her into letting me stay and then kill her afterward, but i didn’t, did i?” she pointed out. “i’m selfish, not homicidal, so relax.” as the woman came back with the blood bag and glass, eleanor’s smirk returned instantly. “see? problem solved.” she leaned back slightly against him. “we’ve been having this exact conversation for what, a century now?” she sighed dramatically. “i call you boring, you tell me you live by your own code, then you try to lecture me like i’m some rebellious teenager.” she shook her head. “i genuinely hope that sometime in the next thousand years you finally realize you cannot change me.” her eyes locked onto his as she spoke, stubborn and sharp. “discipline?” she echoed with a dry laugh. “discipline was pretending i didn’t have a single thought in my head so some disgusting old man would keep me fed and married instead of starving with my poor ass family. that was discipline.” her jaw tightened slightly before she relaxed again. “now i get to do whatever i want. i can walk where i want, take what i want, leave whenever i want. that’s freedom.” she tilted her head at him. “and if i want to use people sometimes, i will.” when he insisted he was only keeping her on his lap to contain her, she narrowed her eyes. “you’re such an asshole,” she muttered. the woman finally set the bag and glass down, and eleanor immediately smiled sweetly at her. “thanks, darling,” she purred before waving her off dismissively. “go watch tv or something.” once they were alone again, she lifted the blood bag between her fingers and looked back at him. “you should probably let me go before i start drinking this while sitting on top of you and you decide that’s too much.” her grin turned sharper. “don’t worry, though. ethically sourced.” she tapped the bag lightly. “same thing as raiding a vet clinic, just with less effort.” then she leaned a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to tease him. “so either let me enjoy my dinner, blackthorne… or i’ll feed off you instead.” she threatened, "you think morally better than i am, but i bet the thought of drinking blood from someone has crossed your mind in the past century" eleanor smirked, "open to me, i won't kill them, just want to know there's a vampire under all that restraint"

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane didn’t move while she circled him, but his jaw tightened incrementally with every slow step she took. When she repeated her century-old claim, he gave her a flat look. “You’ve been wrong for over a century,” he replied coolly. “Consistency doesn’t make it truth.” At the word harassment, he rolled his eyes, openly this time. Okay, maybe harassment was a little too far. He didn't enjoy Eleanor's company. “You show up, provoke me deliberately, and call it a perk,” he said dryly. “That’s you entertaining yourself.” But there was no real heat behind it, just the familiar rhythm of something old and worn-in. When she pressed her palm against his chest, testing him, steadying him, he went very still. His eyes dropped briefly to her hand, then lifted to meet hers, dark, restrained. “Don’t,” he said quietly. Not sharp. Controlled. “You don’t get to mock restraint just because you abandoned the concept.” As she spoke about weakness and stakes and the others waiting for him to slip, something colder settled into his expression. “I’m fully aware of what they think,” he replied. “I don’t abstain because I think I’m superior. I abstain because I remember what it feels like to lose control.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “You call it starving. I call it choosing.” She opened the door before he could say more. When the human woman appeared, calm and unaware, Kane’s posture shifted instantly, subtle, protective distance sliding into place. He looked at the woman only briefly before turning his eyes back to Eleanor, unimpressed. “You’re using her as a security system,” he said flatly. At her comment to the human, calling him a self-proclaimed vegan, he exhaled sharply through his nose. “I hate that you call me that.” But when Eleanor walked inside without waiting, he muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Unbelievable.” Then he rolled his eyes again and followed her into the house anyway, shutting the door behind him with deliberate calm.

His gaze drifted briefly around the room, measured, assessing, before settling on the human woman standing calmly in the hallway. Miss Grace. When he spoke, his voice was low, even, threaded with something ancient and compelling. “Miss Grace,” he said gently, meeting her eyes. His stare held, steady, unwavering, quiet power humming beneath the surface. “You’re going to step into the other room,” he continued smoothly. “Make yourself comfortable. Perhaps put the kettle on. And you won’t concern yourself with anything you hear tonight.” His tone never rose. It didn’t need to. “You’ll leave us be.” There was no cruelty in it. No hunger. Just command. He held her gaze a moment longer to be certain the suggestion had taken root, then gave the smallest nod of dismissal. “Thank you.” Only then did he look away, as if the matter were already settled. His jaw tightened faintly as he turned back toward Eleanor. Miss Grace moved off exactly as instructed, her footsteps soft as they disappeared down the hall. Then he jogged after Eleanor. He caught up just as she reached the sitting room. Without asking, without announcing it, he stepped in front of her path and dropped down onto the couch in one fluid motion. The cushions dipped under his weight. With a smooth tug, he pulled her down toward his lap. He leaned back into the couch, one arm secured around her middle, the other resting lazily along the armrest as if this had been his plan all along. “You,” he said flatly, “are a lifelong pain in my ass.”

[eleancrdarcy]

eleanor had never pretended to be anything other than selfish. if something sparked a reaction in her — curiosity, boredom, amusement — that was reason enough to chase it. and kane had always been one of her favorite reactions. she knew she pushed him, tempted him back toward the dangerous habits he had spent decades trying to bury. part of her did it for the chaos he carried with him like a shadow, but another part — the older, quieter part that remembered a century of history between them — thought the life he was trying to live now was simply… stupid. as they stepped inside the house, the woman eleanor had persuaded to lend it to her greeted them warmly. eleanor barely acknowledged it. she knew kane would have something to say, and she already didn’t care. the arrangement suited her perfectly — with miss grace’s permission, no other vampire would dare cross the threshold. kane’s concern was almost laughable. she rolled her eyes while he spoke gently to the old woman, guiding her toward the kitchen for tea, smoothing over any unease she might have felt. if he truly believed eleanor hadn’t charmed her thoroughly enough, he was far more naive than she gave him credit for. when he finally sat on the couch and tugged her down onto his lap, she let out a low chuckle, dark eyes glittering with amusement. “don’t talk to me like that while i’m sitting on your lap or i’ll start thinking you’re flirting with me, blackthorne,” she teased, smirking. she mimicked his tone under her breath. “make yourself comfortable… get some tea.” her gaze flicked toward the kitchen. “please, kane. that woman hasn’t had an original thought since the second i charmed her. she doesn’t remember anything i tell her. she lets me do whatever i want — and she’s an excellent way to keep other vampires out. so stop worrying.” her finger traced slowly along the tense line of his jaw. “she’s sweet,” eleanor added with a wicked little smile. “and i’m not talking about her personality.” then she raised her voice lightly. “miss grace! could you bring me an AB blood bag, darling?” she called, leaning back against kane as if she owned the world. “and a glass of water for my incredibly boring friend.”

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane didn’t bother pretending he hadn’t heard it all before. He looked at her like he was tired of the argument but too stubborn to walk away from it. He scoffed when she went on about teaching him again. “You’ve been saying that for a century,” he said bluntly. “At some point it stops being mentorship and starts becoming more like harassment.” When she teased him about coming over without an invitation, he didn’t miss a beat. “You never invite me anywhere. You provoke me. Big difference.” His mouth twitched. “And yeah, I noticed. you never make anything easier. Wouldn’t suit you.” At her bite me questioning, he leaned in anyway, voice low, sarcasm sharp. “Careful. You keep daring me like that and one day I might stop being polite about it.” She laughed, taunted him, called him scared. Kane straightened, expression darkening. “I don’t drink human blood because I’m afraid,” he said flatly. “I don’t drink because I remember what happens when I like it too much. I don't want to become that person ever again." At the door, when she asked if he’d considered the offer, Kane paused before answering. He looked at her, slow and deliberate. “Yeah. I’ve considered it.” Then, a crooked, almost-smile pulled at his mouth. “The answer's still no." He leaned back against the entryway, arms loose at his sides, posture casual, but his eyes weren’t. When he smiled, it was slow and deliberate, and his fangs flashed just enough to make the point. His gaze dragged over her, unbothered. “You’re not human. You’re a vampire.” He tilted his head, fangs still visible, a dark glint in his eyes. “Only difference between you and me is you’re filled with human blood, because that’s all you feed on.” A beat. Then, a little moodier, a little closer. “So don’t act like I’m the reckless one here. I'm perfectly capable at being civilised without feeding on people."

[eleancrdarcy]

at his words, eleanor only smirked wider. “i’ve been saying that for over a century because it’s true,” she replied smoothly, circling him slowly, “you just refuse to accept it.” when he threw the word harassment at her, she gave an amused hum. “harassment? that’s dramatic. i like it,” she teased, utterly unbothered. “and yes, i provoke you. constantly. and you pretend to hate it, but you don’t. a century-long friendship comes with perks.” her eyes gleamed as his tone darkened. she could see the restraint in him, the quiet storm he always tried to chain down. when he mentioned again why he refused human blood, she rolled her eyes. she had heard it countless times—the guilt, the self-loathing, the desperate clinging to morality. eleanor never indulged it. “oh, please. don’t look at me like that,” she said, pressing her palm lightly against his cold chest to steady him—or maybe to test him. “i’m a vampire. reckless, selfish, unapologetic. we both know it. you think abstaining makes you superior? in the long run it makes you weaker. and the others already despise you. they’re just waiting for an excuse to drive a stake through your ribs.” her gaze darkened slightly, but her smirk never vanished. “i’m saying this as your friend, not the villain you paint me to be. control isn’t starving yourself. control is knowing when to stop.” she tilted her head. “it takes more strength to sip and walk away than to deny what you are entirely.” with that, she opened the door. inside, a human woman appeared from the hallway, calm and composed. eleanor stepped aside casually. “you won’t approve this,” she said over her shoulder, “but this is how i keep my house secure.” she smiled at the woman. “miss grace, let the self-proclaimed vegan in. he’s a friend. couldn’t hurt a fly.” and without waiting for his reaction, she walked deeper into the house, fully aware he would follow—he always did.

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane’s dark eyes flicked to Eleanor, the faint shadow of hunger passing over his features before he swallowed it down. He shifted slightly, hands tightening into fists at his sides—not from frustration with her, but from the restraint that had defined him for centuries. “Yeah,” he said slowly, voice low, measured, with that calm, unnervingly smooth edge of his, “nothing’s going to change.” He gave a small, almost wry shrug. “I’m not human, but I also don’t plan on feeding from one. Not tonight anyways." His gaze lingered on her as she demonstrated, jaw tight but posture controlled. When Eleanor spoke of needing to live a little, he let a faint, ironic smile curl at the corner of his lips. “Embrace being a monster, huh?” he murmured, voice teasing though edged with a centuries-old weariness. “Not sure I’m interested in that sort of chaos even if it’s fun to watch." He exhaled, finally meeting her gaze, the hunger still there but tempered by self-discipline. “I’ll pass on your offer,” he said smoothly, voice low and confident. Kane’s eyes darkened as Eleanor moved toward the girl, and a faint wince flickered across his face at the sight. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, looking away, jaw tightening just a little. The way she fed—so casual, so effortless—was almost too much to watch, and a part of him thought it wasn’t fair. But he didn’t speak. He wouldn’t tell her she couldn’t do it; that wasn’t his place. They lived differently, he reminded himself. Her way was indulgent, his was survival—but neither was wrong. He stayed quiet, letting his gaze drift elsewhere as she finished, voice soft behind him. He turned his head to look at her again. Even as Eleanor wiped the droplet from her mouth, Kane’s stare softened—not human soft, but a quiet approval, the kind reserved for someone who fully understood what it meant to exist like them. “You always make it look easy,” he said, almost reverently, though his tone stayed teasing, measured, and undeniably him. Then, as they continued walking, his shoulders straightened, a confident, forward stride matching hers. He didn’t need human warmth to feel alive, distractions worked just as well. Kane shifted slightly as they walked, letting his shoulder brush deliberately against Eleanor’s. The movement was subtle, casual, but deliberate enough to draw her attention. “I’m coming to yours,” he said smoothly, voice calm but carrying that quiet intensity he always had. “I need your company to get me out of my head.” As they moved closer together, he leaned in just enough so she could feel the heat in his presence, eyes dark and glinting with mischief. A slow, playful smile tugged at his lips. “You know, I could bite you,” he said, letting the words linger like a dare. “Right here,” he added, tilting his head toward the side of her neck, letting her feel the heat in his presence. He let the pad of his fingertip drift lightly along the exact spot he had indicated, tracing the line of his suggestion with deliberate slowness. Kane leaned in further, just enough for the brush of his lips to stir her skin, breath warm against her ear. The proximity made the space between them sizzle, magnetic and dangerous. “I still might,” he murmured, letting his words tease her just as much as her presence did to him before he pulled back and stood straight again with a smirk.

[eleancrdarcy]

eleanor knew about his willingness to stay away from human blood; she had been hearing those same words for over a century. she didn’t care—she would still be the devil on his shoulder, wanting him to be who he was, but he never allowed himself to do so. she fed on that girl with calculated technique, something she had been doing for centuries; it was casual, effortless—she took what she wanted and then forgot about it. she knew that once he started drinking blood again, he wouldn’t go back to animal blood, but he refused to let himself do what was right for him. he could see it as selfish, but that wasn’t something she minded. “i’m a great teacher, you should let me show you again,” she smirked, winking at him. when he announced he was coming to her place, she looked at him. “when did i invite you over?” she asked teasingly, a smirk on her lips. “you’re welcome to come, but i won’t make it any easier for you,” she pointed out, even if he already knew. as he leaned closer, she rolled her eyes. “bite me?” she scoffed. “you wish, blackthorne,” she chuckled, feeling his finger drifting along the exact spot he had indicated as he brushed his lips over her skin. “you won’t do it,” she mused, “you won’t, because you wouldn’t dare sink your fangs into something bigger than a mouse, and sadly for you, i’m human-sized,” she added, shoving him as she stood and walked past him. “i could even consider it after you have a drink with me,” she said, danger glinting in her eyes. “i have blood bags a very nice nurse gave me at the hospital—I asked, and this nadia girl just handed me like fifteen of them, a cutie if i can say so myself,” she smirked. “you have a drink of my a+ bag from a guy born in 1989,” she added, smiling as if she were talking about an old wine, “and then i might consider your offer about biting me.” as they reached her place, she opened the door. “you’re welcome to come in—have you considered the offer, kane? it’s nicely sourced.”

[eleancrdarcy]

✧ lady stuart ✧

eleanor darcy is more than eight hundred years old now, though the world has learned to know her only in fragments, in brief appearances and carefully crafted identities. once, long before velvet nights and bloodstained power, she had been eleanor stuart, born into a damp farmhouse and a family that prayed for sons and received daughters instead. she was the eldest of five girls, a fact that shaped her life before she ever understood what choice meant. five daughters meant five dowries, five burdens, five futures dependent on marriage. eleanor learned early that her body was considered currency, her obedience a duty. she was supposed to be quiet, pliable, grateful. instead, she was sharp-tongued, defiant, and unafraid to meet men’s gazes when she wasn’t meant to. she spoke back. she laughed. she asked questions. and for that, she was warned, threatened, pulled aside and reminded that one wrong word from her could ruin not just herself, but her sisters as well.

she did not soften. she learned to endure.

when mr. darcy noticed her, it was not because she was sweet or obedient, but because she was difficult. he saw something in her that he believed could be conquered, molded into a respectable wife who would still entertain him in private. his proposal was salvation to her family, a miracle. eleanor accepted with no illusions. she did not love him. she never planned to. marriage, to her, was simply another cage, one she was willing to step into if it kept her sisters fed and sheltered. she told herself it would be enough.

it ended in blood.

the vampire who had been watching her from afar did not love her gently. he loved her as one loves a blade—dangerously, possessively, convinced it should never be dulled by another’s hand. on the night of her wedding, he killed mr. darcy without hesitation and turned eleanor with the same ruthless certainty. her transformation stripped her of fear and replaced it with clarity. when she rose again, the girl who had sacrificed herself for family felt like a distant echo. she did not grieve. she did not scream. she understood immediately that the world no longer owned her.

before sunrise, she vanished.

eleanor stuart died that night. eleanor darcy was reborn in motion.

for centuries, she never stayed long enough to be noticed. she learned quickly that immortality required discretion, not restraint. she moved from city to city, country to country, reinventing herself every few decades. france, italy, spain—then farther east, farther south. she learned languages the way others learned manners, fluently and without sentiment. when faces around her began to wrinkle while hers remained untouched, she disappeared. when whispers started—about the woman who never aged, who always outlived her husbands, her benefactors, her enemies—she moved again. new name. new fortune. same woman.

she stole without remorse. fortunes passed through her hands like water. she married when it suited her, killed when it bored her, fed when she was hungry. she learned to bend minds effortlessly, a glance or a whisper enough to make people open their doors, their veins, their accounts. she did not ration herself. she fed on whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and she never apologized for it. she did not view herself as a monster. monsters hid in the dark and felt shame. eleanor lived openly, indulgently, fully aware of what she was and utterly unbothered by it.

she spent decades in asia, blending into courts and cities that fascinated her. in korea, she lingered longer than usual—long enough to build influence, long enough to be known as something untouchable. she adored the contrast of ancient tradition and ruthless ambition. it suited her. she moved through wealth and power like she always had, unchanged in her methods, only refined. when it was time, she left again, untouched by age, carrying nothing but memories she barely valued.

when eleanor returned to euroville centuries later, it was not out of nostalgia. she did not miss the farm, the sisters, the girl she once was. she returned because it was useful, because the city had grown into something worthy of her. she stepped back into it seamlessly, wealth already waiting, influence easy to reclaim. people admired her, envied her, feared her in quiet ways they could never quite explain. she did not pretend to be benevolent. she did not pretend to be human.

eleanor darcy has never changed her tactics. she takes what she wants, feeds when she desires, and leaves nothing behind that might bind her. she does not seek redemption. she does not regret the blood on her hands. she lives as what she is—calculated, predatory, powerful—and she is proud of it. she is not pretending to be anything else. eight hundred years later, she is exactly what the world made her into, and she has never once apologized for surviving it.

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane exhaled slowly, a low, resigned sound that underscored the way Eleanor’s eye-roll hit him exactly where she meant it to. Endless pit where his soul used to be. He supposed that was fair. Corny, though? He would contest that—silently. He didn’t rise to the insult; instead, he just shook his head with a faint, rueful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Kane thought she was impossible. Infuriating. And somehow… oddly entertaining. He didn’t answer. She’d told him not to—but more importantly, he wasn’t giving her the satisfaction. Kane endured her dramatic pity with the expression of a man who had known centuries of torment but somehow found this woman to be the most exhausting thing he’d ever encountered. Still… when she boasted about her golden blood, he shot her a sideways look. Dry. Steady. Unimpressed. When she accused him of torturing himself, he didn’t deny it. Kane’s gaze lingered on the pavement ahead, the tension in his shoulders tightening by a fraction before he finally spoke. His voice was low, almost thoughtful, but edged with something he rarely let slip. “Is it torture,” he murmured, “if I think it’s for the best?” Listening to her talk about humans like toys never failed to make something brittle twist low in his chest. He knew what she was. She reveled in it. He spent every waking moment trying not to become it. Then she pointed to the girl under the flickering streetlamp. Kane went still. So still the cold air seemed to pause with him. His eyes sharpened—hungry edge, old instinct flickering like a blade catching moonlight before being sheathed again. He looked away almost immediately, jaw tightening, breath leaving him in a steady denial he didn’t voice. A quick flash of red went through his eyes before he closed his eyes to get rid of the thoughts lingering. Kane shoved his hands into his coat pockets and kept walking, shoulders tense. “No,” he said, almost to himself, “she’s human. She doesn’t need someone to ruin her night because of his own selfish needs.” His eyes stayed fixed ahead, not trusting himself to look back. “You do you, but I can’t do that.”

[eleancrdarcy]

eleanor had forgotten about humanity centuries ago; she didn’t miss the warmth of her skin, she was more than fine being what she was. she could do whatever she wanted without consequences, feed on whoever she pleased, and make sure they never remembered a single second of it. she’d had people stay at her place before, partying with her for nights in a row, a free bar as she liked to call it, but by the third night she would erase their memories like it was nothing. she liked being a vampire, and she couldn’t understand why kane moped around the way he did. he wasn’t going to die anytime soon, he should just enjoy it. “it’s torture because, spoiler alert, nothing is going to change. you’re going to outlive everyone in this town, then probably move back to your manor, then come back and start all over again. they’re going to die for fuck’s sake, kane, but you should learn to live a little. you’re old enough to have fun instead of crying about how you’re not human, how you’re a monster,” she rolled her eyes. “you are one, embrace it for the love of god.” she was speaking her mind, exactly what she thought, no lies, just honesty, and if she had to tempt him to make him realize what they were, she would. she noticed kane go still, his eyes darkening with hunger, and for a second she thought he might cave as his jaw tightened, but then he looked away almost immediately. eleanor sighed. “your needs are your needs,” she shrugged. “of course i will.” she glanced around, no one but them, and in a millisecond she was at the girl, teeth sinking into her neck before meeting her eyes. “nothing happened to you, you fell,” she said softly, and the girl nodded. then eleanor rejoined kane’s stride. “see? no one’s hurt, i didn’t kill her,” she mused. “and she probably has anemia, she should see a doctor,” she smirked. “so, do you want to come to my place, or are you going to find a vet clinic so you can taste something bigger than a mouse?” she asked, a smirk on her lips, a droplet of blood trailing down the corner of her mouth as she wiped it with her thumb and sucked it clean like it was the most natural thing in the world.

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane scoffed, low and dark, the sound curling like smoke from a smoldering fire. “People would be lucky to be you?” he repeated, arching a brow as he glanced sidelong at Eleanor, the corner of his mouth twitching into a reluctant smirk. “Please. They’d trip over their own ego trying to keep up with yours." He watched her mock-laugh about Botox and surgery, shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Ah yes, the modern obsession with youth." At her jab — ‘you are boredom personified’ — Kane pressed a hand to his chest in mock agony. “That hurts. Really. Deep in the endless pit where my soul used to be,” he deadpanned. “Boredom personified? I am the spice of eternal life, Eleanor. Just because I don’t light myself on fire for fun doesn’t mean I’m not interesting. Some of us appreciate a slower burn.” When she mentioned rodents, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “Rodents are convenient. Portable. No emotional baggage. Unlike some people.” He cast her a pointed look, though his eyes glinted with amusement. And then, that last jab — “stop crying over the past” — made something flicker behind his eyes. Not hurt. Just that old stubbornness, a touch of pride bruised. He didn’t reply at first. But when she stood up and he wrapped an arm around her, it was half possessive, half reluctant truce. “I don’t cry,” he muttered, chin resting lightly against her temple. “I reflect." Her joke about being scared of him eating people earned a soft, sardonic laugh. “Don’t worry, darling. You’re too bitter to taste good,” he teased, lips brushing near her ear like a ghost of a threat that didn’t quite land. “I like my meals a little less... jaded.” He leaned in slightly, inspecting her face with dramatic seriousness. “Nope, they’re still there. Death didn’t save you from everything. Cute though. Like a haunted oil painting.” And finally — blood options. Kane gave her a look — flat, unimpressed, the kind of deadpan only centuries of disappointment could perfect — then shrugged with exaggerated indifference. "I don’t eat humans. I eat animals. Sue me,” he said, voice laced with mock innocence and just enough smugness to be irritating. “Sorry I’m not out there gnawing on joggers like a proper monster. Some of us have restraint.” Kane felt the night air cut through like a whisper with teeth — cold, sharp. He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Eleanor's shoulders. “But do you have a preference of the people you pick?” His voice dropped, that teasing lilt curling around the question like smoke. “Pretty boys? Tough guys? Beautiful women with tragic backstories and sharp eyeliner?”

[eleancrdarcy]

eleanor rolled her eyes at him. “the endless pit where your soul used to be? you’re the corniest vampire i’ve ever met, blackthorne,” she said with a shake of her head. “first the soul thing and now you appreciate a slower burn, you’re the definition of endlessly boring.” she smirked and winked at him. “oh, i love lighting things on fire, in another life i’m sure i committed arson or something,” she laughed, and when he mentioned rodents she nearly doubled over. “please tell me you carry those around like people carry cereal bars, that would be hilarious,” she teased. “but how many do you need? actually, don’t tell me, i’m already pitying you and i don’t want to feel even worse about how underfed you are.” she lifted her hand dramatically as if stopping him from talking. they were opposites in every way: he was all restraint, distance, and fear of the monster inside him; she was the monster, delighted to do whatever she pleased without worrying about anyone but herself. “oh, blackthorne, people would kill to have a drop of my gold, bitter taste my ass,” she scoffed. “but you know what? you flatter me.” she waved her hand like a lady fanning herself in some old ballroom. when she mentioned blood she saw his expression shift. “that’s because you’re still torturing yourself,” she said with a shrug. “restraint is the least sexy thing i’ve ever heard.” when he wrapped his jacket around her shoulders she smiled. “oh, i’m not picky at all. but i guess my weakness is guys who think they can flirt with me.” she chuckled as they stepped out into the cold, the empty street stretching ahead. “the horror on their faces is the best part, and then you tell them to forget, give them a little tap on the ass, and off they go.” she spoke about humans like they were nothing, toys at best. “don’t you ever think about tasting real blood again? come on, kane, i bet under all that control you want blood that doesn’t taste like shit.” she tilted her head toward a girl standing under a flickering streetlight. “just look at her. doesn’t she make you forget all about the rodents?”

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane let out a low, humorless chuckle, swirling the dark liquid in his glass without looking at Eleanor. “What can I say? We're not all Eleanor Darcy,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching with the ghost of a smirk. He leaned back, eyes shadowed under the dim light, clearly half-listening as she ranted about her century-long battle with vanity. “I keep up with it because I can,” he said finally, voice rough, carrying the weight of boredom more than anger. “Because watching humans scramble to cheat time reminds me that I’m… still awake. Still breathing. Or, well, feeding.” He gave a dry shrug, the motion heavy, almost theatrical. “You think I fight it? I fight boredom. Misery’s just… a side effect. I don't like being like this." When she finished his drink and muttered about him being funnier before, he made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a sigh, dark eyes glinting. “Yeah, well, the world isn’t exactly funny anymore,” he said, standing slowly. His movements were languid, almost predatory, but there was an odd tenderness in the way he matched her stride. “And go where? Drag me into your chaos again?” Kane slung an arm around her shoulders, leaning a little too heavily as he stumbled slightly, a tipsy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Careful,” he muttered, his voice low and teasing, “if I go down, you’re coming with me.” He squinted at her face, mock-serious. “Though, I gotta say… I can still see a few wrinkles,” he added, his tone dripping with sarcastic exaggeration. “Not many, but hey, you’re human enough to show a little wear." His grin was dark and playful, the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was joking—or enjoying the fact that she knew he was. Kane leaned a little closer, his arm still draped over her shoulders, and pointed with one finger at the tiny crinkle at the corner of her eye. “See this one?” he said, voice low and teasing. “Right here. Barely noticeable, but it's there."

[eleancrdarcy]

"people would be so, so lucky if they could be me, what can i say," she shrugged, a smug smirk on her lips. eleanor rolled her eyes; she had never wanted to think about what could have happened if she hadn't died — she was awake, out and about doing whatever she pleased without having to face the consequences, which was the life she'd always wanted. she knew kane wasn't like that, but the thought of being tortured for an eternity was enough to make her want to smack some sense into him. "it's cute seeing them all get botox and surgery to look young," she laughed. "you don't fight boredom, my friend — you are boredom personified," she smirked. "you're miserable because you feed on little rodents," she pointed out. "the world isn't funny anymore? what do you want back, the plague, the balls, the itchy clothes?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "just go out and do something that isn't crying over the past and why you're the way you are, for fuck's sake, kane." she shook her head. as she stood up he wrapped an arm around her, and for a second she thought he might give in to her little plan. "of course, that's what i do," she nodded. "oh, so scary — seeing a man eating people, i will shit myself," she rolled her eyes; she'd done horrible things but she wouldn't dwell on them. "you can see wrinkles? those were there before i died," she shrugged. "that shows how much nicer i was, smiling and courting around my town." "stop trying to distract me, but honestly... what do you fancy? regular, or do you want the less sugar-added version? diabetic people's blood is not bad," she smirked, guiding him outside.

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane finally cracked a crooked smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but hinted at something sharper underneath. “Fluffy bitches plotting against me? Charming,” he said, voice dripping with dry sarcasm, though there was a flicker of something amused buried deep inside. He shifted, leaning back with a lazy confidence that didn’t quite mask the restless energy beneath. When Eleanor grabbed his drink like it was hers, he didn’t bother to protest. “Counting the days? Please El. I’m far too busy to mark calendars for anyone,” he shot back, tone deadpan but laced with a hint of affection only she would catch. “Though, I admit... it’s mildly entertaining to watch you think you have the upper hand.” He let out a low chuckle at her mock lament about the darkness without him. “The world’s always dark. Doesn’t take much to notice when you’ve been around as long as I have,” he said, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Korea, huh?! He gave a slow nod, as if picturing the scene. “Convenience store hunts after hours—classic. Not like me, skulking around in shadows, probably looking like some fucked up junkie." Kane’s gaze flicked to her, sharp and assessing. “You and I, we’re different breeds. You chase the fire; I survive on the cold edge.” He wiped under his nose, almost imperceptibly, a twitch in his expression. “But hey, maybe one day I’ll join you on one of those late-night sessions if my life ends up gets too miserable."

[eleancrdarcy]

they had been friends for longer than anyone would guess, considering how young they looked for their true age. “you won’t see me hunting down those little shits,” she said with a nod. “that just means they’re plotting against you—trust me on that. and cut the sarcasm, blackthorne, that’s so eighty-seven.” she rolled her eyes, settling across from him with his drink in her hand. “you could just say you missed me, i’d be happier and you wouldn’t sound like some cranky old man.” eleanor raised a brow at his words, smirking. “i have the upper hand, whether you like it or not,” she said with a shrug. “you should’ve seen that country—god, you don’t know how many people try to look forever young, and they try so damn hard. i know how to get it, but it’s not ‘ethical’ and blah blah blah. but look at me, over a hundred years old and still looking twenty-five.” the vampire tossed her hair back dramatically. his next words made her press a hand to her chest. “why the fuck do you keep up with that shit? you don’t have to kill people, just… feed, tell them to keep quiet, and they’ll walk right back into their homes. that’s it. it’s who you are, kane, so why fight it?” she rolled her eyes again and finished his drink in one go. “you were funnier before,” she muttered, then stood. “okay, you’re miserable—let’s go.”

[kane-blackthorne]

Kane didn’t bother turning right away. He’d heard her—of course he had. No one else walked into this place like they owned the floorboards. That cocky rhythm of hers, like even time owed her something. He, let the silence stretch just long enough to be inconvenient, then finally looked up. His gaze was all ice and disinterest, but the kind that lingered a second too long. He raised a brow, unimpressed. “Well,” he said flatly, “the forest was getting a little too lively. Thought I’d downgrade to humans and monsters." He didn’t smile, because Kane didn’t do that. Not for show. Not for her. But the corner of his mouth twitched, the kind of involuntary reaction one has to an itch they’d rather ignore. “Missed you?” he echoed, his tone sharp and dry. “Right. I spent the last few decades weeping into pine needles, reciting your name to whoever would listen." He slid the bottle toward her, poured without asking. Of course he knew what she drank. “Not sure what’s more tragic,” he muttered, “that you think I missed you… or that I probably did.” He leaned back, arms crossed, eyes never leaving her. “Go on then. Tell me how the world was better without me wherever you ended up going for so long."

[eleancrdarcy]

eleanor raised an eyebrow, watching him sit there in silence like she hadn’t been standing in front of him for ages. she sighed, glancing down at her perfectly manicured nails. “the forest getting a little too lively? they’re planning to take you down, blackthorne—squirrels are little fluffy bitches,” she smirked, arching a brow as she sat beside him. arrogance, amusement, and pure power followed her wherever she went. this was her stop, if she wanted it to be. when he finally said something—dripping in sarcasm—she rolled her eyes. “oh, always such a joy to talk to. just admit it, you were counting the days ‘til you saw me again,” she said with a grin, grabbing the drink he’d just poured like it was hers all along. “that’s the effect i have on people. lady darcy doesn’t get forgotten.” she smirked again, knocking back the drink with ease. as he leaned back, she raised an eyebrow. “oh, the world was so dark without you,” she said, voice thick with mockery. “last stop was korea. it was good—spicy.” she gave a little shrug. “i think i ate my age in rice cakes.” her tone shifted slightly, playful and wicked. “no squirrels though… can’t say i went unnoticed, but they’ll never figure out what happened.” they both knew what she meant. she wasn’t like kane—no animal blood for her. that never satisfied her. “you should’ve been there. everyone goes to the convenience store late at night. easy prey. and then a little soju after? honestly, best experience.”

[eleancrdarcy]

it hadn’t been long since eleanor found her way back to euroville. as planned, she had lived all over—her last stop being south korea—but now she was back, back to where she’d been born, long before most of the buildings even existed. she’d heard about that bar, the one that had been around for decades. underground, tucked away, its atmosphere hadn’t changed with time. even the people working there seemed to have been absorbed into its walls. the redhead made her way down the stairs, heels tapping against the worn floor, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she approached the bar. she spotted kane almost immediately. eyebrows raised, eyes glinting. “well, well, well,” she smirked. “look who left the cold forest.” her voice dripped with mock arrogance, as if she hadn't been away for many decades. “i bet you missed me. what… the squirrels get tired of you?” @kane-blackthorne

[girlsets]

ABIGAIL COWEN as ANGEL in REDEEMING LOVE (2022)

[eleancrdarcy]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ this is ellie

name:  eleanor darcy

age: twenty5 (since 1814)

relationship status: tbd.

eleanor darcy wasn’t born a monster. she was born eleanor grace whitmore in 1814, the golden child of a powerful english family who valued image over affection. her early life was silk and discipline — the kind that teaches girls how to be perfect, quiet, and useful. but eleanor had too much heart, too much hunger for something real. at sixteen, she fell in love with someone she was never supposed to — a servant’s son with rough hands and soft eyes. when she got pregnant, she thought love would save her. instead, her family erased her. they killed the boy she loved, exiled her to a country estate, and ripped the baby from her arms the day she was born. eleanor begged to die. instead, she was given a choice — life, not as she knew it, but eternal, sharp, and cruel. she said yes.

the transition was agony. when she woke as a vampire, the girl who had braided ribbons into her hair was gone. in her place was something colder, cleverer, and harder to kill. she became eleanor darcy — a woman who moved through decades like smoke, seducing, surviving, vanishing. she fell in and out of lives like a curse, loved men who wrote poems about her bite, and whispered lies so beautifully they sounded like truth. her motto became, better you die than me. and she meant it. no one would ever take her power again.

now in euroville, eleanor keeps to the shadows of high society, dressed in secrets and silk. she claims she moved for a fresh start, but she’s always chasing something: a lead on the child she lost, the last flicker of humanity, or maybe just a reason to feel anything again. she’s sharp-tongued, brilliant, and cruel when she needs to be — but fiercely protective of her younger sister, the only soul she trusts. though she rarely speaks of how her sister became like her, their bond is unshakable. she doesn’t have a coven, doesn’t follow rules, and doesn’t let herself love easily. but when she does, it’s messy, obsessive, and all-consuming. she’d burn cities to the ground for the right person — but never admit it.

beneath the cold elegance, there are flashes of the girl who once believed in love. she doesn’t show it often, but when she does — in a glance, a soft pause, a reckless choice — it’s clear: eleanor darcy is dangerous not just because she’s a vampire, but because some small part of her is still painfully, beautifully human.