H E L E N

"Dying seems less sad than having lived too little." Helen Steele. Twenty-five years old. Human.

[elliethrone]

Searching for an explanation for the phenomenon that stood before her, Ellie could only think of her creator. He had intended for this to happen, for them to meet. But why create a living doppelgänger? What was possibly to be gained from that? It was clear that this girl could not be ordinary. Ellie had lived for five thousand years, been a Queen in her own right, watched civilisations rise and fall, had watched humans as they stretched beyond single strip agriculture to placing on of their own on the moon. And yet, in that entire time, she had never met someone who resembled her quite as much as the person before her. And she didn’t even know her name.

Ellie couldn’t help but pick up on the fact that she seemed to be suffering from well, something. It was warm, but not warm enough to justify the struggle her body seemed to be under - knees shaking slightly. “Are you alright?” She found herself compelled to ask, instinct taking over a more logical course of action. Part of her wanted to run away, erase the image of this woman from her mind, but a stronger part of herself was drawn towards this stranger, wanting to understand who she was and learn her story. Biting down on her lip, Gabrielle figured she would be safe enough introducing herself. “I’m Ellie, by the way.”

[helenofsteele]

“Hm?” Helen mumbled as her thoughts were muted by dizziness from the heat of all these bodies smooshed together in one place. A year ago, she would have been fine walking through this throng of people. Now, she could hardly keep her mind straight. “Oh no, I’m fine.” She finally answered after a long pause, fighting against the inevitable. She needed to sit down and get some water into her, but she was too weirded out, yet also curious, by the current phenomenon. “Ellie. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Helen.” She smiled, even though she’s well aware that her symptoms of fatigue and loss of strength are showing more and more by the minute, she’s too stubborn to let herself sit down --she’d wait until she truly has no choice.

[wnq-writers]

I got fire in my blood and my bones are made of steel I am a hurricane of a girl not a porcelain doll you should save

bellarkeismyotp  (via slytherinwritess)

[elliethrone]

Mirror image. Like a twin. No. That wasn’t strictly true. The face before her could have been mistaken for her own on the worst of days, she supposed. They both shared the same dark brown hair, falling to their shoulders and beyond. Their eyes were the same - in shape and colour. Even their faces seemed to resemble each other. But the longer Ellie stared into the strangers face, she longer she began to see subtle differences emerge. For one, the other girl was slightly shorter. Her eyes - although identical - seemed less bright, duller in a way, as if she was suffering greatly from something. Even her body was slender. And she was sweating, looking exhausted in a way Ellie could never achieve unless she exercised intensely for several hours. No - this girl was a copy of herself, but one that seemed to have several malfunctions, if she was the perfect model. Which was impossible in itself. How could there be a girl who resembled her so? And in London, of all places? At this current time? Ellie began to see the work of God - fate slotting into place. What other explanation was there?

Quite startled for a moment, she forgot to speak, or even form a reply to the woman, simply too shocked and caught in a manner of staring. Tearing her eyes away, she managed to cast her gaze briefly down to the floor, not too sure whether to continue the conversation or leave. Of course, there was a chance that all this could be a strange coincidence, that this girl was nothing but another regular human who just so happened to resemble her in a few ways. But something told Ellie that it was more than that - that there was a reason they were supposed to meet. It made her nervous. She could hardly stand the not knowing, or even looking into her own eyes. It was like seeing into her own soul. Determined to act more normal, she returned her gaze. “Do we know each other?” She asked, a weighted question directed so casually. “It’s just, you seem very familiar.” She left out the fact that the familiarity was caused by her own appearance.

[helenofsteele]

She looked so-- healthy.Beautiful and healthy, even better than the pictures would have suggested. Helen wasn’t intimidated easily, too headstrong for such a thing, but standing in front of a woman that wore her face better than she ever could, it was hard not to criticize oneself. Her eyes were so much more alight than hers was, she had a healthy glow, while Helen looked pale as a ghost. She understood nothing of this, and it was almost frightening, if Helen were scared of anything.

She let out a short laugh at the statement, weak shoulders rising and falling as she went, but hoping the woman wouldn’t take it as mocking, simply as-- laughing at the situation they were in. Helen didn’t really know her, although she’d seen her before Eleanor had, she didn’t actually know her, no matter the resemblance. It didn’t help that this new experience resulted in Helen’s head to become more and more troubled, and her knees weak from the heat, but she kept on, still. “I think I would have remembered meeting you.” She shrugged in an “I know what you mean” sort of way, letting the woman know she’d remarked the resemblance as well. For once, Helen wasn’t sure of what to say.

[sarahs-delights]

Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello.

[elliethrone]

Hyde park in all its glory was a place to be envied. Green with blossoming trees and statues that were to be envied, Ellie thought it might perhaps be one of her favourite places in London - if not a little swamped with tourists to appeal to her tastes. Walking in alone, having rushed home and dumped her briefcase and quickly changing into something more comfortable, she figured it would be the right course of events to put in an appearance. She knew many of her own species would be making an appearance, hoping to dispel the mood of gloom and doom that had befallen them in recent times, to attempt to put the past behind them for a while - even if it could be for a day. Perhaps peace could be found, even in the most unlikely of circumstances. What else could she do other than hope?

The strum of low music filled the air, sensual smell of food reaching her senses - even if she knew it would be hopelessly over priced. London needed this - both human and vampyre alike. They needed closure, a chance for wounds to heal and to remember what it felt like to not be scared for their lives - even if she couldn’t be quite sure that the terror was over. She could only hope nothing would ruin today - hope in vain, probably. Hope was a dangerous mistress to play with. It had a habit of sticking it to you in the back when you least expected it, usually when your back was turned. Ellie would have been lying if she had said she wasn’t afraid of what today - and the days after - might hold. The Queen of Queens considered herself the biggest believer in the beacon of hope - and yet even her faith was beginning to falter, to waver, to question whether everything would indeed be all right. But you had to carry on, there was no other choice. Lost in her own thoughts, Ellie scarcely noticed when she collided with another. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” She apologised, looking up to see their face and parting her lips to form a small smile.

[helenofsteele]

Helen smiled at the children that ran past her in a fit of giggles and taunts such as “I’m going to get there first” in singsong voices. 

The brunette moved around with a sense of satisfaction as she navigated through the crowd, happy to see her fellow Londonians enjoying some well-deserved fun. She’d hated the heaviness that had taken the entire city, even so long after the attacks had occurred. Death was inevitable, people seemed to forget more and more these days. It would come sooner or later, no matter if you wanted it to or not. The scenes of the attacks had been hard to witness, yes, especially for those who had witnessed it first hand. But there was a time for grief, and then there was a time for rebuilding, and finally, the rest of London started to come to it.

Helen walked around adults and children alike as she headed for the refreshment table, feeling a slight bit lightheaded due to the heat that all these bodies gave off in such an enclosed space. She had left Gage behind to come and get the bottle herself, knowing that if she’d told him what she was doing, and why, then she would already be at the apartment, with a needle sticking out of her arm. And she would not be bloody doing that tonight. The rest of the London was having fun, and so would she.

Coming around the corner of a booth, she came colliding into someone. Helen took a step back, and let out a breathy, short laugh, “no worries, I--” she stopped short as her eyes shone with recognition. Is this a bloody joke? How likely is it to come face to face with the woman people keep mistaking you for? She questioned herself. But it wasn’t even the fact that she was meeting the woman she’d done so much research about, but the fact of how uncanny the similarities to her own face really were. Especially in person. It was shockingly creepy. “--wasn’t looking where I was going.” She finished lamely.

[gagesteele]

in our veins | gage & helen

Gage glanced over Helen’s CBC, gritting his teeth in thought as he noted the low red blood cell count once again. It was a medical anomaly, whatever was happening to her. There was no probable cause to why it was that her red blood cells were dying out. There was nothing wrong with her bone marrow - and if only there were. If only it were s i m p l e. They were siblings and were blessed to have compatibility when it came to being able to donate to each other, yet he couldn’t do that for his sister. There was no such easy fix, yet he felt still there was something he could do. He was a DOCTOR, trained to help people, but what kind of professional could he be if he couldn’t even save his sister, his own flesh and blood, the last of his family that he had left? He had already lost so much time with her due to their separation. Gage refused to see her life snuffed when she was still so young, when there was still so much she could do in this world.  And Gage didn’t want to be truly a l o n e. For he felt as if he would be, were she to die. But it wasn’t going to happen. Gage would see to it, somehow. Setting down her chart and readjusting the stethoscope around his neck, he stuffed his hands into the jackets of his white coat and approached Helen where he had left her sitting on the examination table. He supposed that she had had enough of him poking and prodding at her for one day. He knew that she grew tired of his constant tests when it didn’t seem to yield any different results, but he wasn’t about to concede to her mysterious illness like she seemed to. They were Steeles, both stubborn to the core, much like their mother before them. Though his own memories of his mother were vague at best anymore, after so much time, and he knew that Helen herself remembered nothing of their parents. They were brilliant, especially their father, and he could recall all too well his father stroking his hair and telling him that one day, he’d be in charge of their family secrets, that he would share the burden of his ancestors before him, but what that burden was, Gage would never know. But it was what led him to devote his life to being a doctor, a man of science, just like his father and those before him. He patted his sister on the leg, leaning his weight onto his left leg. “Alright, you’re free to go.” Giving his sister free reign was probably a relief to her, though for him, it only brought more tension in between his shoulders. He didn’t like another day where he discovered nothing and he also didn’t particularly care for letting Helen roam on her own. He was well aware she was an adult, but he was r e s p o n s i b l e  for her. And he worried. He wasn’t much good with people, but she was. She tended to attract people just by her nature, and he worried that one day, any day, she could attract the wrong kind of person. “I suppose I can’t expect you to be home for dinner later?” Which would be fine, ultimately. If she wouldn’t be home, he wouldn’t be either. Gage would just continue devoting himself to his work.

[helenofsteele]

Every day she sat in this chair, every day she wondered at how little she actually saw her brother. Of course, she lived with him, and she was seeing him right now. But she wasn’t seeing her brother, or not the brother that should be standing beside her, rather, the brother who was a doctor. Who constantly conducted a million tests on her, practically every day --or so it felt, who always asked about her illness. But she saw little of Gage as just a brother, rather than her brother who happened to be a doctor.

Helen slid into the chair and rested her head onto the back of the chair as she held her phone to her nose as she read her emails, waiting for the okay to be free of this time sucking activity her brother deemed so important. Her work, her life, those were important, and she was wasting precious moments to do this, but still she stayed put. Because, although she thought it useless, and hated to see her brother constantly coming up against the same results that told him of the impossibility of a cure for her, she knew how important it was for him to conduct these tests. And --although cruel as it may be-- she hoped that he would finally lose hope if he kept coming up with the same results over and over again, so that he could finally l i v e. Live without this fantasy of a cured Helen. Live with her and be just a brother, instead of her doctor too.

Helen had jumped out of her seat as she was finally free of the poking and prodding, and was picking up her purse when the idea hit her. She turned back to her brother with crossed arms, and a smile on her face. “How about we eat out for dinner?” She sat back down on the arm of the couch. “We ought to get you out of your boring routine. And we-- well, we haven’t really had the chance to do any sibling bonding since you found me, have we?” She watched him through a thin curtain of hair as she waited for him to reply, not feeling guilty one bit for playing the “we were separated before and you kind of owe me” card.

[musical-relief]

Visit Original Link

[helenofsteele]

Cough Syrup Young the Giant 

Life’s too short to even care at all  ohh  I’m losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control

[purestmichael]

“Apparently they are people too,” Roan said lightly, flicking the page. He knew what was on there, he knew what the article said. He had, in fact, heard the story from Ellie in such crystal detail that it may as well have been a recount of Cole’s first-hand experience. He had watched the pain in her eyes as she relived the moment as if she too had been there and suffered. She cared too much, and that was why Michael protected her. Before the page had turned, Roan looked over his shoulder and paused… 

Gabrielle.

Again, it wasn’t her. He knew that it couldn’t have been her before he had even turned around, for her very presence was calming and settling and Roan’s nerves were on edge. But he couldn’t help but gaze at the girl. He knew her, he’d been tricked by this before. Each time he’d simply already allowed his thoughts to wander to his bond mate that they corrupted his vision, showed her there in front of him, showed him that she was standing strong and tall and fearless without him. Was he going mad? Had the hours he’d spent locked in his home study finally taken his sanity? “I - sorry… I thought you were -” My girlfriend, who I have been with for over a decade… and in multiple lifetimes. “I mistook you for someone, I apologise.” Roan finished feebly, feeling just as foolish as when he’d thought he saw Gabrielle in the hospital. 

Tilting the newspaper up slightly, a small smile touched his lips. “They managed to recover their wit for this article, just before you start feeling like everything’s going wrong in this world.” But to the blue bloods, everything was going wrong… only they had no idea what it was that was causing it. He’d always said that there were things in this world bigger than even them, more than what they could simply see and hear. It had been a motto, and then become a defence against Luke’s insistence there was a problem with the silver bloods (which naturally there was, and is, not), but now Roan wished it wasn’t the case. It would be much easier and simpler if he just knew what was going on. 

Much simpler if he just fed for the first time in… well, a while. But he simply took a sip of his coffee instead.

[helenofsteele]

Helen smiled as the man concurred, although it didn’t quite reach her eyes as she kept on reading the article from over the man’s shoulder. She might have been sick, but she had good enough vision to read the words on the page in front of her.

Bright eyes met bright eyes as he looked at her, giving her the same, knowledgeable look everyone seemed to give her. God, did everyone know Eleanor? She couldn’t stop herself from questioning.

"No worries. Not like you’re not the 100th person to tell me that today.” She sighed as she took a swig at her coffee.

Helen smiled again as she leaned in to read the article, shaking her head at the work of the reporters with a chuckle, “reporters are made of steel. It’s the only explanation.” She reads on, and straightens back up again to take a sip of her drink.

“May I?” She gestures to the seat in front of the man, although doesn’t wait for a response before she plops down in front of him. Something seemed... familiar, about the man in front of her. And if he’d mistaken her for her esteemed doppelganger --whom she was looking forward to meeting, although the thought of it made her a slight bit nervous. “A slight bit” being the term she liked to replace “a lot” with-- then maybe he could tell her more about her. 

“We have met before, correct?” She asks bluntly, not feeling the need to correct herself for possibly having offended the man. At least, until he showed himself being offended by the question, or her short-term memory. She could faintly remember his face, but could not conjure up his name, or the conversation they may have had.

[helenofsteele]

To Do

Reply to Gage’s starter

Reply to Roan

Make starter

Reply to starters

Reply to things in the inbox

Complete memes

[helenofsteele]

Nonsexual acts of Intimacy

(select from the following for my muse to respond to)

♔ : Finding your muse wearing their clothes

♕: Holding hands

♖: Having their hair washed by your muse

♗: Your muse falling asleep with their head in my muse's lap.

♘: Cuddling in a blanket fort

♙: Sharing a bed

♚: Head scratches

♛: Sharing a dessert

♜: Shoulder rubs

♝: Reading a book together

♞: Caring for each other while ill (specify which party is which)

♟: Patching up a wound

♤: Taking a bath together

♧: Your muse playing with their hair

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

♢: Forehead or cheek kisses

♠: Your muse adjusting their jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

♣: Back scratches

♥: Your muse crying about something

♦: Slow dancing

[astridbfrisbeyonline]

[helenofsteele]

Filming Knights of the Roundtable: King Arthur 

[strengthof1000-zane]

Staring at her, he didn’t smile when she picked up on his slip of the tongue. If anything, her acuteness irked him even more than her initially running after him had. He could have gotten up, left by now, but he knew that it was socially unacceptable to do, especially given he didn’t actually know the girl who had tracked him down. It didn’t mean he had to make things easy for her… but she wouldn’t give up until he gave her something. He knew that.

He figured if he was going to give her something though, it would be as sparse as he wanted it to be. “She was,” he said with a pause casting a glare in her direction before continuing,“an ambassador for the UN,” he trailed off. “Eleanor–” he breathed for a moment before mentally hitting himself and correcting his words well before he hoped she caught on. It was so quiet, she couldn’t have, could she? “She changed lives. Not just mine. She is someone that you could spend your whole life aspiring to be and still not come close. I was not worthy of the chances she gave me.” Rapping his fingers on the table some more, he shrugged. “I can’t think what I would have been, and who I would be now… without her,” he said, choosing his words carefully, picking them apart himself piece by piece.

“Are you happy now?” he spat.

[helenofsteele]

Helen tilted her chin up as he corrected himself, grinning, if only slightly, at the glare he through at her before he continued. She could tell this situation was one he currently wished he could run away from, but as he stayed sitting, and kept giving her some answers, Helen understood that he was aware that she wouldn’t stop until he gave her something of substance; something she could research or hang onto. 

UN ambassador, Eleanor-- she repeated the words in her mind. Something she could research. She almost smiled to herself, but she didn’t want for him to stop speaking of her. Now that she had a name, everything he’d told Helen about her, made up an actual, tangible person now. 

Helen leaned into her chair as he spoke of his changed life. How he wasn’t worthy. It made her think-- well, it almost made her feel guilty of her pestering. Clearly this woman, Eleanor, had done something huge for him in the past. And from the way he speaks of himself, she guessed that his past was not as clear as the raindrops she continuously encountered in London.

She leaned forward on the table, her fingers intertwined. She looked at him for a few moments, searching his face to see if there was anything else she could get out of him. She made her satisfaction noticeable with a nod and a smile at his direction. “Yes, for now.” She had to add, as she surely was not done with the man just yet, and because of obligation. She clearly could not let him believe that she was absolutely satisfied, if only because of the way he’d spoken the question. “Thank you for your help.” 

[helenofsteele]

[wordsnquotes]

Don’t you want to be alive before you die?

Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See (via wordsnquotes)

[wnq-writers]

I got fire in my blood and my bones are made of steel I am a hurricane of a girl not a porcelain doll you should save

bellarkeismyotp  (via slytherinwritess)

[helenofsteele]

Accent

Accent

Helen was born in London, and had the fortunate chance to be raised there as well. Her mother was a Londonian herself, although her family originated from Spain, and she took to the accent when Helen spoke English. Her father, however, was born and raised in Italy. Her language teachings consisted of both English, Italian, and Spanish, although English and Italian were the main tongues spoken in the household. Like her mother, her mother tongue is English, but seems to have taken to her father’s accent in regards to a few words she has heard him say often throughout her childhood. 

[purestmichael]

There was a sickening satisfaction that Roan was able to find through what was unfolding. Had he come to the realisation that the release of the Reaper probably meant devastating effects for Anmegarice (a matter at which he likely would not be able to remain calm about), the twisted safety he found in having his blue blood society out of the spotlight was a relief. The carnage at the 400 Lux Ball had followed him and he still stood by that they had been safer staying in the building over evacuating. The Reaper had only continued to prove this point by slaughtering hundreds more in public spaces and not under the watch of The Blood Bank. “Population control”, he’d heard someone slur from the roadside seating of a pub, to which is friend had agreed and complained about the population density.

When the St Agnes’ students died it was a tragedy. The public execution was a tragedy. The freak accident of the nightclub was a tragedy. But the latter two had fallen after the Ball and they had ultimately become statistics: the number of lives this “cult” had taken. It was no longer a burden on the Blood Bank, no longer did he feel the blame in the eyes of the parents who had lost. To the public, the responsibility lay with the city, and Roan was able to move about his people and try and save them all in peace…

                    … with coffee.

Thus he sat, intermittently flicking through today’s copy the Telegraph and watching the city-goers walking past the window. He was faced with an impossible task. He had always said that there was more to what we see and hear – look at the humans, they couldn’t see or hear us, after all – but now that he was faced with having to stop one such “more” from whatever it was the Reaper was doing, he had started to pine for the relative ease of silver bloods.

[helenofsteele]

Helen hadn’t quite known where she’d wanted to go. The attacks were weighing on the Londonian population. Everyone on the streets, who were always in a hurry to get to work, seemed to have slowed, as if they were all weighed down by the chains of death, awaiting for what horror would come next. Even the firm, headed by a woman of steel such as Briar Devereux, had closed early for the day. 

Grief and sorrow held her up for a day or two --although not always immediately after tragic events-- as it stood in the front of her thoughts, images looming, thoughts on how it could have been mixed with the other thoughts that filled her head, but would only remain there for those few days. It always stood there, a silent reminder of what had been lost, but as the emotions --who would always stand there in her mind-- crippled others, she transformed them to produce something positive; to give justice for those who had had it taken away, and to serve it to those who had taken it. 

She kept turning back to those images; to the videos on the news of the blood and the carnage that had rained down on them all these past few days. To the panic in people’s eyes, the pain in people’s hearts, and to the shock that held everybody on a tight rope, which she waited for it to snap. 

She had let her feet drag her around the city at the pace of the city-goers walking the street, her mind coming back into focus as she closed in on the coffee shop door. The bell rung behind her as she made her way to the cash register to place an order for her go-to comfort drink. She passed the time as she waited for her drink, with the gruesome images filtering through her head, her mind subconsciously studying the entire image, making theories and comments on the attack, as her mood shifted to the same dark emotions everyone emanated.

With hands wrapped around the warm drink, Helen wandered around the cafe as she tried to locate a place for her to sit in the crowded shop. Her eyes shifted downward every time she was about to approach someone to ask if she could borrow the opposite, empty seat in front of them, as they looked at her in such a way that made everything so much sadder. Helen didn’t enjoy the feeling. 

Finally deciding to push through the dark thoughts, knowing it would do no good to her to be in the same funk as everybody else, she made her way through to the window booth, where it seemed only occupied by one person. “I never thought I’d see the day journalists would be affected by tragedy as we are.” She joked sadly from behind the person sitting at the booth, after she’d read the title of one of the articles that seemed particularly un-zesty for the subject it pertained to.