devoid. { ap }

[nulliius-blog]

ALEC IS PROTESTING BC HIS BOYFRIEND IS ABSENT.  i’m working on it.  but i’m still here !  if you want to plot something, hit me up on my multi ! ( @toerr )

[captnsulu-deactivated20161211]

i’ve not lived a good life, my love, but know that it was softer with you in it

washing out war (o.q)

[nulliius-blog]

                                       ❛    F A T H E R  -------------   ❜             a  pause  is  taken,         though  brief,         as  he  lets  the  word  settle  on  his  tongue.           it  was  still  STRANGE  to  say.            but  he  knew  it  made  his  master  HAPPY  ;  alec  wasn’t  above  at  least  attempting  to  grant  someone  happiness  if  minimal  effort  was  required.              ❛         when  will  heidi  return  ?       ❜

@maliitiosi

[nulliius-blog]

it’s come to my attention that i should pROBABLY roleplay with someone other than just @mixedbloods .  sO.  like this for a starter ? or for me to come plot with you ? 

[qwetrey-blog1]

     hands grasp his form, and it feels like the ocean itself; weighs its entirety over his skeleton… crushing it down, crippling the bone under such a pressure that he’s sure he’d feel relief in the moment which they would break.  only, that moment never comes.  because his bones aren’t breaking, his bones aren’t under any strain but that of which his own body brings it.  muscles pull taught, stretching skin tight across joints like his jaw and shoulders.  the pain distorting features once cherubic to something scorned; red with his own blood, and with skin rubbed raw by the salt of his own tears.  

he sees no pride in the way he is now, writhing in the grasp of the masters that he wonders… what they must think; oh, one (a guard) has voiced themselves, and charlie’s eyes strain to look towards them— but his attention, oh it’s not long kept as pain steals him away from the attack his mate, had made upon the other member of the guard.

caius is there, with a palm to his forehead; feeling the extreme heat which radiates through the boy, maybe to the point where it even rivals the warmth which his beloved wolves steam from their forms.  for oh, the venom is eating through him like a bad case of the flu.  ruining his system, causing havoc in his lungs and heart.  he wants to give up, to shut his eyes— but he hears their voices, hears them speaking … and hears the crack, that is felix’s arm, being pried from his shoulder; a sickening crack, that resounds clear as is charlie’s own thunderous heart.  

the worst thing however, is he doesn’t know what to make of it— there’s too much going on at once.  with his vision tinging red, and his shoulder beyond recognizable with pain … he can’t tell if that’s his own arm breaking, or someone else’s.  it might as well be at this point, with the way he contorts once more; back arching off of the ground as liquid fire runs through his veins.

god(s) he can’t even scream, his throat hurts, everything does— and he wants it to stop— stop, but he can’t even get himself to muster alec’s name to his tongue… though his mind screams for him; enough to pass through to caius, whose red eyes, divert from pained brown ones… towards the boy shouting orders.  orders, which charlie finds relieving his pain as, as they are spoken… the mist begins to seep towards charlie…. grasping him and swaddling him in a numb feeling, that he greets with a sigh, as his back drops back towards the ground; and the contorting of his body ceases.  

brown eyes, blink— long dark lashes, kissing pale cheek bones as they flutter open and close, at an impossibly slow rate; life only coming to return, as a cup of blood is pressed to his lips.  with aid, his head is held up and the cup is tipped and it’s contents enter his mouth.  a hand strokes his throat, convincing the muscles there to move as to swallow it down.  a trick charlie had known himself, to work with stubborn sickly dogs who won’t swallow pills.  and maybe he is no better than a sick dog.  a dog that needs to be put down.  but as the numbing takes further hold … his mind manages to clear; the blood pouring into his mouth and down his throat, encouraging a form of rejuivination that brings color back to his skin.  

however the wound on his shoulder, looks no better than it had to begin with.  very clear imprints of alec’s teeth are there, dug into the flesh… revealing dark red, that still wells upward with streams of blood that gently trickle down porcelain skin and even into his hair; as it had pooled to the bed ( that he’d been laid in at some point ) below his head.  

‘what have you done’, caius voice booming once more; that is once alec had reapproached, only for charlie’s hand to fall from the bed…. lifting upward, towards alec’s as if he might be able to reach it… fingers barely reaching alec’s, skin skimming skin only long enough for a single sentence to be passed along the connection.    

                                                              ‘it’s okay…’ 

[nulliius-blog]

                                     he  doesn’t  stop  his  whispering,            even  when  caius’  voice  is  raised.              he  can’t  TELL  them  why  he  attacked  charlie.             he  never  admitted  it.             aro  would  have  to  pry  it  from  him.            so  he  raises  a  numb  hand  to  his  primary  master  &&  eyes  him  with  brilliant  crimson’s.             aro  takes  hold  &&  focuses  for  a  moment  before  scowling  slightly  at  the  scene  that  unfolds  in  alec’s  memories.               ❛     we’ll  send  your  twin  when  she  returns.      ❜            his  offer  is  met  with  a  soft  ‘  no  need.  ‘             it’s  then  that  he  feels  charlie’s  hand  ;;  too  hot.           his  fingers    jerk  away    instinctively,           afraid  the  fire  was  returning  to  his  bones.            

                                           ❛        look  after  him.             you  caused  the  blood,            you  will  clean  it.      ❜        marcus  is  BORED  with  the  situation  at  hand.                ❛    take  care  to  ensure  word  does  not  return  to  the  cullens.    ❜             the  sentiment  is  echoed  between  the  three  masters.               alec  doesn’t  speak.          doesn’t  look  at  any  of  them.              what  can  he  say  ?              he’s  made  all  of  their  lives  immeasurably  more  difficult.               

                                         they  leave,             helping  felix  to  his  feet  &&  reattaching  his  arm.           alec  stares  ahead  of  himself,             whispering  once  more  ;;  though  he’s  able  to  comprehend  what  he’s  been  saying  --  it’s  pagan.              the  language  he  spoke  when  he  was  human.               it’s  a  prayer  for  safety.             he  doesn’t  remember  ever  learning  it.          { it’s  something  his  mother  recited  over  their  family  quite  frequently  when  the  twins  powers  grew  too  fearsome.  }               the  bloodied  mess  of  boys  are  left  in  the  quiet,             save  for  his  gentle  whispers  into  the  air.              ❛        it’s  not  okay.       ❜            it’s  not  spoken  in  english  --  but  he’d  taught  charlie  a  bit  of  his  language  once.           

[qwetrey-blog1]

       to be prey, oh— charlie had only felt like HE WERE PREY, once before in his life… and it were the day on snowy field,           where his father had placed his THEN SMALL form, onto the back of A WOLF; that he felt this way… he felt like the crowd of red eyes, watching his form disappear on the back of a shifter; were there only to see him BURN.  to RIP little limbs from a small torso.  to TAKE his head from thin shoulders, and throw him into the fire.

being prey, …. oh, BEING PREY had been terrifying.  and just like it were terrifying then, it is terrifying now.  more so, even.  but charlie convinced himself he DESERVED it— for his foolish heart, thought he could make a DIFFERENCE, while his mind knew it couldn’t.  and so as alec LASHED out, the boy had little opportunity to strike back; however nails did manage, to scrape across the vampire’s face, removing STONE-Y FLESH in the process.  this didn’t do anything to AID charlie though, no he were pressed into the extravagant mold of the fame of his bed either way… the wood, DIGGING into his spine as teeth met the flesh of his shoulder— 

charlie was quick to decide which hurt more… the bite, or the way his back, were forced against the nearest surface.  and by far, it WERE THE BITE… he’d felt alec’s teeth in his thighs many a time.  but THE VENOM, never got to him; alec wouldn’t let it.  he were always SO CAREFUL, to keep it from charlie’s blood stream.  as if it might do something, when the chances of that… were supposedly next to NOTHING.  but they were wrong.  it did something— it HURT HIM.  it wrapped up that human part of him in acid, and burned him raw; stripping him down to the bone, it felt like his heart would COLLAPSE in on itself… but despite it all, the pain and the venom; it KEPT BEATING… 

it kept fucking beating, and it spread the pain from the tips of his toes; to the top of his head.  he couldn’t get rid of it, he couldn’t get ALEC out of his neck— and god he was trying, his SCREAM caught silent on the back of his throat, as hands placed themselves flat on alec’s chest… pushing with all the strength that he had, in order TO FORCE the being away.  

it were like alec was a NEWBORN all over again, and like charlie’s own inhuman strength… stood no chance.  like charlie’s blood, POURING DOWN his shoulder and messily into alec’s mouth— were the opposite of superman’s kryptonite… like he were RATHER the sun fueling his powers.  and god, he MIGHT LAUGH at the comparison… if he weren’t trembling against the side of his bed; barely able to lift his arm, in order to grab at alec’s hair in feeble attempt to pull him from his shoulder.  for in the end alec were no superman.  HE NEVER WAS.  maybe once he was a little boy.  but now he was something else… and the sooner charlie understood that what he had, had… was FABRICATED ( or so he thinks ) the sooner this would hurt less.

in fact, it does… it does, because alec’s PRIED HIMSELF from charlie’s bloody shoulder, and the boy has barely recognized this … as the venom, his body allows to BOIL inside of him, distracts the DHAMPIR from such a realization.  oh, he’s merely twisting; contorting his body, in ways he didn’t know he could as it wrings through HIS FRAME … unable to affect his shape in any other way but by PAIN.  there were no turning what he was, no there was only killing it; and maybe it would kill him.  it felt like it would.  and god despite it all, he’s still calling ALEC’S NAME in the end.  not for his mother, not for his father, or even the pack.  but for alec, for caius… for the two of them because it HURTS, and he wants it to stop—

[nulliius-blog]

                                     he’s  calling  for  help  before  he  even  realizes  it’s  his  own  voice.         WHAT  DID  YOU  DO.              what  did  you  do.             caius’  voice  is  what’s  heard  before  he  can  even  rationalize  what  he’s  actually  done.             there’s  a  SNIDE  REMARK  by  felix  about  how  he  ‘ didn’t  know  alec  hated  him  that  much. ‘                   &&  then  alec’s  ON  the  much  taller  male,             nails  on  his  throat  before  the  mist  has  consumed  the  brute,             taking  him  to  the  ground  with  a  loud  thud.                his  arm  is  detached  without  anyone  making  a  move  to  STOP  him.                     no  one  DARES.               

                             none  of  them  know  proper  dhampir  care.             but  they  do  know  that  anytime  he  was  hurt  before,            more  blood  seemed  to  alleviate  it.             porcelain  fingers  are  digging  into  felix’s  neck  when  he  hears  the  discussion  between  the  masters  --  remembers  his  MATE  is  in  PAIN.             &&  he  can  help  that.               so  he  releases  felix  from  his  mist,              moving  back  to  charlie  &&  quickly  wrapping  him  in a  thick  cloud  of  translucent  mist,             STEALING  AWAY  HIS  SENSE  TO  FEEL.           

                                         &&  then  he’s  BARKING  orders  in  the  first  language  that  comes  to  his  mind  ;;  he’s  not  even  sure  what  it  is.             but  they  go  --  leaving  the  vampire  {  who’s  skin  was  STAINED  in  the  boys  blood  }  to  his  work.                  he’s  whispering  in  another  language,           crimson  hues  flickering  over  the  male  to  make  sure  he  wasn’t  in  any  kind  of  pain.              his  throat  burned  with  the  NEED  to  taste  his  blood  again.            he  dared  not  even  lick  his  lips.               he  shouldn’t  be  here  --  showing  so  CLEARLY  that  he  cared  far  more  deeply  than  he  had  allowed  at  first.             but  he  won’t  leave  him  to  anyone  else.               

                                      when  blood  is  brought,              he  allows  caius  to  give  it  to  charlie,               feeding  it  to  him  while  charlie  couldn’t  move.                  if  he  were  mortal,           his  hands  would  be  shaking.             if  he  were  mortal,               his  eyes  would  never  dry.                 but  he’s  not  mortal.             the  entire  lower half  of  his  face  is  painted  red,          staining  his  tunic  shirt  &&  hands.           it’s  under  his  nails.         his  body  HURTS  from  his  earlier  panic  ;;  back  slowly  healing  from  the  wall  &&  face  &&  neck healing  from  charlie’s  hands.             his  voice  wavers  as  he  continues  to  whisper  to  himself  --  language  so  ancient  he’s  not  sure  anyone  knows  it.              caius  won’t  go  until  charlie  dismisses  him,          while  also   forcing  alec  to  take  away  his  powers.                but  he  returns  near  to  him,             needing  to  at  least  know  he’s  BREATHING. 

                                             he  doesn’t  hear  him  at  first  ;;  doesn’t  see  him.              not  that  it  MATTERS.               the  second  he  hears  anyone  –  senses  anything  coming  towards  him,               he’s  crawled  backwards  –  speed  immeasurable  to  a  mortal.               his  back  hits  the  wall  –  ROCK  ON  ROCK  in  a  BANG.                 no  one  will  check  on  the  noise  –  why  should  they  ?                  he  can’t  get  the  images  to  stop  ;;  they’re  burning  his  mind  from  the  inside  out.                    he  doesn’t  care  that  his  back  HURTS  like  he’s  cracked  his  skin  it  with  the  force  of  his  own  actions.              

                                                      he  can’t  see  charlie  ;;  just  goading  faces  glad  to  see  him  burning.           he  can  practically  FEEL  the  flames  in  his  bones  from  the     v i v i d    display  his  mind  is  using  against  him.          is  this  PUNISHMENT  for  what  he’s  done  to  charlie  ?               some  cruel  joke  his  human  life  is  using  against  him  ?                   he  feels  like  the  smoke  is  in  his  lungs  –  &&  in  truth,                his  own  mist  has  caused  his  problem  ;;  it’s  twisting  around  him  like  a  coil,            stealing  his  sight  from  him  &&  filling  his  lungs  like  a  TOXIN.                    events  like  these  have  happened  naught  since  he  was  a  new  born  ;;  when  the  pain  was  fresh  in  his  mind.            

             ❛       stop  it   ———   please  stop  ;;  it  HURTS.     ❜          

                                             his  whispers  match  those  from  his  memories  –  how  he  BEGGED.                    just  let  jane  go.           he’ll  suffer  FOR  her.                      how  he’d  screamed  for  his  mother  before  he  watched  them  kill  her  in  their  revelry.           ❛      MOTHER…           make  it   s t o p.      ❜            oh,           what  a  time  for  jane  to  be  out  of  the  castle  –  for  she’s  the  only  one  who  was  able  to  comfort  him.                fingers  move  to  his  throat,        clawing  at  the  porcelain  like  the  mist  will  break  free.            but  it’s  not  for  the  mist.              it’s  for  the  AIR  he  thinks  he  needs.             breathing  then  meant  taking  in  pure   SMOKE.            smoke  that  smelt  of  his  twin’s  flesh.              how  he’d  tried  to  hold  his  breath.                  his  chest  aches  along  with  the  burn  in  his  throat,              both  from  the  mist  &&  from  his  hunger.                   how  badly  he’d  wanted  to  kill  everyone  in  that  village  right  then  &&  there.          these  memories  do  nothing  but  fuel  that.       

[qwetrey-blog1]

      leave him, the voice is strong in his head— as it COMMANDS him to do everything that alec deserves.  to leave him IN HIS SUFFERING, like alec had left him.  charlie may not know fire upon his skin, but he did know what it was like to have that little red thread, SNAPPED.  the one holding their lives together, the one that represented THEIR BOND.  he’d known nothing more cruel, than that letter.  than that PAIN in his heart, when he realized that alec was gone.  that he had LEFT HIM, to a house that… despite his mother’s BEST EFFORTS… were not a home.  his family, they loved him— his grandfathers, his grandmothers, his aunts and uncles.  they loved him.  and so did THE WOLVES.  but it was his father that made him feel most ISOLATED.  and alec, his savior from that feeling— left him to it.  left him TO edward’s gaze, and the way he spoke.  like charlie weren’t the same little boy, the volturi had taken.  he wasn’t charlie, the LITTLE BABE he’d pulled from his mother.  but some being wearing his face.  

that feeling, decimated him in many ways.  HIS HOPES, to rekindle a relationship with his father; stomped out, by finely tailored shoes.  

and so as he sees alec there, crying out like a babe for his mother— part of HIS MIND, the one that fights HIS HEART… says to leave him, to find caius; and ignore the cries of his WOULDBE lover.  the one he’d let have his heart, without so much as asking for one in return.  it was a mistake, a FOOLISH MISTAKE made by a little boy who didn’t know what the REAL WORLD was.  he only knew his books, and the inside of volterra.  and everything they had fabricated for him, were just a fairy tale.  one he BELIEVED whole-heartedly with alec there, to keep the vale of lies over his eyes.  then he pulled it free, and everything he thought he knew WAS WRONG.  

his heart however, his heart aches for the way alec cowers— and it foolishly pushes him FORWARD; despite the pleas of a rational mind, telling him to stay his distance.  for oh, that would be the smart thing.  the thing that would KEEP HIM from getting hurt.  but his heart doesn’t care if it gets HURT, not like his mind does… because it’s already been hurt, it’s been STOMPED on and CRUSHED; but he’s piecing it back together… slowly but surely.  this might ruin the progress of the restructure; but his heart would have it no other way, for his mate is hurting. 

fingers reach out, ghosting over alec’s elbow; slowly curling around it, in attempts to pull the vampire’s nails from his throat where stone skin, chips from THE EXPANSE of his neck.  he’s hurting himself, and charlie WINCES… whether it be from the internal struggle that is his mind versus his heart… or from seeing alec in SUCH SHAPE, the boy can not quite discern.  he does know however, that what he feels in his chest; is pain.  and it hurts.  

❛ alec? ❜ followed by a THUMP-THUMP, of a roaring heart; does the boy speak, his tone soft like a lullaby.  ❛ — stop, you’re hurting yourself … ❜

[nulliius-blog]

                                  a  snake  is  a  creature  that  is  majestic  to  observe  ;;  terrifying  to  encounter  in  the  wild.              a  snake  is  raised  to  know  prey  versus  predator   --  &&  to  know  it  can  challenge  BOTH.           hiding  in  plain  sight,           a  snake  has  time  to  track  what  it  wants  --  to  appear  peaceful  &&  calm.           the  moment  you  think  you  are  safe  is  the  moment  you  become  prey.                 alec  has  been  this  way  since  birth  --  READY  to  pounce,            but  never  visibly  fixated  in  an  intimidating  posture.              jane  was  the  one  who  was  easily  spotted  --  but  it  didn’t  matter  ;;  once  she  was  mad,         it  was  over.         alec  drew  out  his  attacks  from  the  shadows.              he  got  you  when  you  were  not  expecting  it.       you  were  prey.     

                                                        BUT  CHARLIE  IS   N O T   HIS  PREY. 

                                         that  distinction  might  be  known  to  a  man  who  was  not  sure  he  was  burning  alive  at  the  moment  ;;  to  a  BOY  who  was  not  scared  of  a  death  that  had  failed  to  claim  his  life  so  many  years  ago.               but  that  boy  is  the  one  curled  against  a  wall,            whispering  for  a  woman  whom  is  no  more  than  dust  to  save  him  now.                      never  in  his  right  mind  would  he  hurt  charlie.         he  could  never  bring  himself  to  do  so.                   but  he  is  not  the  alec  charlie  has  grown  to  know  ;;  he’s  the  boy  that  was  FERAL  from  the  start  of  his  immortal  life.             &&  just  like  a  snake,           backed  into  a  corner  &&  touched  without  his  consent,             HE  STRIKES  FORWARD  WITH  A  HISS.     

                                                his  teeth  are  BARED  like  an  animal  that’s  been  starved  to  death.                in  truth,            that’s  what  he  is.              his  hands  are  pressed  into  his  biceps,           eyes  BLIND  to  what  he’s  doing.               his  mind  sees  nothing  but  the  villagers  who  DARED  hurt  the  twins.            focused  on  the  chance  he  could  have  gotten  if  aro  hadn’t  taken  them  down  for  the  twins.              he  doesn’t  know  what  he’s  doing.                 &&  in  a  flash  of  pearly  whites,            his  teeth  CLAMP  down  onto  his  exposed  collarbone,               tearing  his  skin  with  the  ease  a  human  would  have  of  biting  through  bread.               blood  spills  down  his  skin,                  easily  claimed  by  starved  tongue  that  laps  it  from  the  wound.           VENOM  meets  dhampir  blood.                  

                                                        it’s  not  his  sight  returning  that  causes  him  to  realize  what  he’s  done.            it’s  not  the  boys  VOICE.            it’s  the  taste  of  his  blood.             never  in  his  life  has  blood  ever  tasted  so  intoxicating  that  he’s  had  to  PRY  himself  away.                 after  so  long  in  his  undead  state,         the  killing  was  more  fun  than  the  blood.               so  he  knows.                he  knows  who  he’s  attacked.               he  knows  the  sound  of  the  heartbeat  that  he’d  once  allowed  himself  to  think  was  his  own,           now  beating  just  under  his  lips.                 SENSE   returns  in  a  rush  as  he  forces  himself  backwards,           back  hitting  the  wall  once  more  as  his  hand  clamps  over  his  mouth,             trying  to  force  back  his  desire  to  finish  what  he’d  started.             the  bloodied  mess  in  front  of  him  is  NOT  a  sight  he  wanted  scarred  into  his  mind.              his  jaw  drips  blood  from  each  sharp  edge,            curling  around  his  wrist  &&  down  his  arm.                  CRIMSON  hues  burn  brighter  than  ever  as  he  stares  at  the  boy,              fear  from  before  now  fear  that  he’s  actually  become  to  monster  to  burn.                

[nulliius-blog]

 mixedbloods:

         he were a light sleeper without alec’s nullifying ability; it was why there was such a problem, when he was first REINTRODUCED to the cullen house hold.  it were far smaller than castle volterra, and far more busy.  the OLYMPIC COVEN, spent their time amongst each other; talking, speaking, and at the time… it were all about him.  driving his young mind wild, as they spoke OF HIM from the other side of the cottage.  oh, how he’d wanted to block them out.  but he hadn’t had his practise.  not WITH ALEC, and the way he spoiled him so.  

alec would take away his ability to hear; until all he could feel, were THE THUMPING of his own heart… the rhythmic beat-beat-beat, enough to bring pale eye lids, drooping shut.  and then HE WAS GONE, and all he had were their voices.  speaking of him, speaking of alec.  like they knew alec would leave him.  like they knew it WOULDN’T WORK, or that it were all a trick— far before charlie had EVER EVEN thought of the possibility.  ah, it were like a slap across the face; an ‘i told you so’, when he knows it were NEVER meant to be that way.  

closing his eyes this time around didn’t help, and even when he did fall asleep— ALEC WAS THERE, his smile turning from something kind to something cruel; twisting dreams, pleasant and light… to DARK and FOREBODING.  ah, for years he wondered if he deserved it; if it were a lesson he needed to learn in order to grow.  but oh, how painful of a lesson it were.  one that he didn’t recover from.  not like a normal child would.  for teens have their hearts broken seemingly EVERY OTHER WEEK.  but when charlie’s were broken… it weren’t the same, and it was noticed by his family.  even by HIS FATHER, who deemed him a stranger, with his son’s face.

his mate in a way REJECTED HIM, and none of his family had ever experienced that.  and so after their dozens, if not hundreds of attempts to aid HIS PAIN; they had left it for time to heal, and maybe time would’ve healed it.  if charlie weren’t dragged back to the place where it all started.  and if he weren’t AWOKEN, by the sound of a body hitting the floor.  it startles him, the ‘child’ jostling from his resting form to sit up in bed.  his hair a mess of WILD CURLS— and his eyes, brown like liquid umber; wide as he stares down to the form trembling on his floor.

                     it’s alec, it’s alec, it’s alec;     HE CAME BACK.

charlie CHOKES ON AIR, unable to form words at the fear that emanates off of the vampire’s form.  so clear, like it were crystal and a thing so solid that he could touch it.  oh, he’s never quite seen alec like this… BLACK EYED, and horrified.  he looks like a child, a little boy CAUGHT in the boogeyman’s grasp.  and that part of charlie that loves him screams for him to move forward, to take the back of his head in his grasp AND LULL him out of it.  while the other tells him to STAY PUT…  god, the two sides of his heart prove to be at war with one another for he doesn’t move… not at first; and then he’s DAMN NEAR falling out of bed himself; moving slow, hesitant, and even afraid himself… towards the male’s side.

                                                         ❛ …    alec    … ? ❜

                                             he  doesn’t  hear  him  at  first  ;;  doesn’t  see  him.              not  that  it  MATTERS.               the  second  he  hears  anyone  --  senses  anything  coming  towards  him,               he’s  crawled  backwards  --  speed  immeasurable  to  a  mortal.               his  back  hits  the  wall  --  ROCK  ON  ROCK  in  a  BANG.                 no  one  will  check  on  the  noise  --  why  should  they  ?                  he  can’t  get  the  images  to  stop  ;;  they’re  burning  his  mind  from  the  inside  out.                    he  doesn’t  care  that  his  back  HURTS  like  he’s  cracked  his  skin  it  with  the  force  of  his  own  actions.              

                                                      he  can’t  see  charlie  ;;  just  goading  faces  glad  to  see  him  burning.           he  can  practically  FEEL  the  flames  in  his  bones  from  the     v i v i d    display  his  mind  is  using  against  him.          is  this  PUNISHMENT  for  what  he’s  done  to  charlie  ?               some  cruel  joke  his  human  life  is  using  against  him  ?                   he  feels  like  the  smoke  is  in  his  lungs  --  &&  in  truth,                his  own  mist  has  caused  his  problem  ;;  it’s  twisting  around  him  like  a  coil,            stealing  his  sight  from  him  &&  filling  his  lungs  like  a  TOXIN.                    events  like  these  have  happened  naught  since  he  was  a  new  born  ;;  when  the  pain  was  fresh  in  his  mind.            

             ❛       stop  it   ---------   please  stop  ;;  it  HURTS.     ❜          

                                             his  whispers  match  those  from  his  memories  --  how  he  BEGGED.                    just  let  jane  go.           he’ll  suffer  FOR  her.                      how  he’d  screamed  for  his  mother  before  he  watched  them  kill  her  in  their  revelry.           ❛      MOTHER. . .           make  it   s t o p.      ❜            oh,           what  a  time  for  jane  to  be  out  of  the  castle  --  for  she’s  the  only  one  who  was  able  to  comfort  him.                fingers  move  to  his  throat,        clawing  at  the  porcelain  like  the  mist  will  break  free.            but  it’s  not  for  the  mist.              it’s  for  the  AIR  he  thinks  he  needs.             breathing  then  meant  taking  in  pure   SMOKE.            smoke  that  smelt  of  his  twin’s  flesh.              how  he’d  tried  to  hold  his  breath.                  his  chest  aches  along  with  the  burn  in  his  throat,              both  from  the  mist  &&  from  his  hunger.                   how  badly  he’d  wanted  to  kill  everyone  in  that  village  right  then  &&  there.          these  memories  do  nothing  but  fuel  that.       

[fitzandmontgomery]

[roseydoux]

[qwetrey-blog1]

    it were true that nothing in his chamber had changed, from books- dozens of them, unchanged… to music.  a phonograph sits in the corner of the room, the kind with a lead painted funnel from which music would pour.  vinyls laid stacked on a satin covered bench, and his easel; still covered in stains from paints of many kinds- stood leant against the far right wall…  he’s sure if he goes through the chest at the foot of his bed; he’d find all of the things he had left behind.  clothes, treasured items, and sheet music.  

charlie isn’t sure how long he walks through the room, and he isn’t sure why he does… for everything in it, has some tie to the male that caused the pain in his chest.  whether it be the piano, the paintings ( some of which were of the vampire ) or of the phonograph.  alec would bring him discs, from which new music would play.  most of it were classical, and came from the vast collection the volturi had accumulated after so many years—  but it were still in the mind of a child caged, a gift…  almost everything came from alec, or at least were given to him by his hands…  and part of the teen says to burn it all.  

the part of him that were angry.  the part of him that bleeds, like he were an open wound.  and he hates his heart for that.  hates that when alec let him feel, that it had to be in his arms… that it had to appeal to the beating organ; as it ached in his chest, for the feeling of alec there at his side once more.  

fist hits bed side table, cracking wood; as he thinks of all of the things they had done… of the nights where alec would lull him to sleep… and help him stay there.  he would drown out the screams.  he would block out everything— and leave charlie to his dreams…     and then there were moments, where no sleep happened at all; not that night…  hours of something he isn’t proud of.  of their limbs tangled and their mouths joined.  he feels his body flood with heat, and determines it to be from his anger… when he knows it were anything but.  

surprisingly however, sleep comes to him easily— the moment he lays down, it seems minutes later he’s drifting.  oh, the flight had taken the energy out of him; to adjust to the time difference would take weeks… but he’d get it eventually, like he had to when he’d first been taken.  only this time were different, this time he didn’t fight back.  this time, he wouldn’t let anyone else either.  he were going, and he went willingly.  it’s what he dreams of in fact, his mother’s tears and her anger.  his father’s steeled expression, his eyes never quite finding charlie’s.  for things never really changed, even when alec left…     edward still didn’t look at him.  and charlie got used to it.   got used to the fact he’d never be the same little boy that his father loved, and had stolen away.  

but what he couldn’t get used to was alec being gone.  was the letter that he hears repeated in his head over… and over.  if he’s a goddamn mistake, let him be the best one.  oh, that’s the part of him that loves alec speaking… the part of him that hates him, says to watch all of these things that held their memories… burn.  

[nulliius-blog]

                                         he’s  not  sleeping  peacefully.                 he  can  tell  by  the  way  his  eyes  flutter.          the  way  his  fingers  twitch  at  his  sides  as  if  looking  for  something  to  anchor  him  in  place.             he’d  been  able  to  comfort  him  once.                    maybe  if  he  just  looked  into  his  mind  he’d  be  able  to  see  if  he  were  open  to  the  comfort  once  more.               he  knows  he  shouldn’t  ;;  but  he’d  be  lying  if  he  didn’t  feel  compelled  by  the  boys  very  BREATH  to  do  anything  for  him.                 

                                              so  he’s  at  his  side  in  a  graceful  move,                cold  fingers  just  barely  touching  the  tips  of  his  fingers.               the  onslaught  of  pain  the  boy  is  experiencing  is  enough  to  choke  up  the  immortal  --  charlie  didn’t  deserve  to  suffer  the  way  he  had.              alec  had  all  but  convinced  himself  that  leaving  would  make  everything  better  for  him  ;;  it  had  to.              alec  was  the  problem  --  remove  the  problem,             save  charlie.              but  it  would  seem  the  problem  ran  deeper  than  he’d  originally  seen.                 

                                           but  then  his  mind  is  filled  by  one  very  clear  image  ;;  himself.              their  nights  together  were  something  he  too  remembered  vividly.                {      something  he  knew  his  twin  had  to  know.          she  was  no  fool.      }                  but  then  that  PLEASURE  &&  LOVE  is  replaced  with  FLAMES  ;;  smoke  &&  ashes  &&  pain.                  if  there’s  a  stark  difference  between  the  two  twins,               it’s  their  relationship  with  fire.                 while  jane  allowed  herself  to  be  consumed  by  the  flames  --  to  take  them  into  her  veins  and  burn  anyone  who  spited  her.              he  tried  to  escape  them  ;;  FEARED  their  wrath  &&  fled.               allowed  the  smoke  to  FILL  HIS  LUNGS  with  every  scream.                     their  powers  manifested  from  there.               as  he  sees  the  flames  &&  smoke  wrapped  around  things  that  alec  had  LOVED  &&  given  to  charlie  --  he  can’t  help  but  see  himself  wrapped  in  the  same  fury.              

                                            so  his  hand  RECOILS  like  he’s  being  burned,                a  sharp  gasp  leaving  his  lips  as  his  eyes  take  on  a  FEAR  he  hasn’t  allowed  himself  to  feel  in  so  long.                     he  hadn’t  even  noticed  his  powers  had  dissipated  in  his  catatonic  state.               his  mind  is  filled  not  by  charlie’s  thoughts,              but  by  distorted  memories  of  his  human  death  ;;  fuzzy  &&  mostly  fueled  by  aro’s  retelling  of  the  event  --  CRUEL  FACES  CHEERINg  as  he  &&  jane  SCREAMED  for  their  lives.              flames  licking  up  bare  legs  &&  searing  off  skin  like  he  were  nothing  more  than  a  rag  doll.                he’s  never  been  so  badly  triggered  by  the  sight  of  flames.                  no,              it’s  because  it’s  CHARLIE  that  thought  it.                  he’s  not  even  noticed  he’s  fallen  onto  the  ground,                mind  too  consumed  with  the  onslaught  of  torturous  memories  to  take  stock  of  his  surroundings.                 he  was  always  more  susceptible  to  these  RISKS  when  he  was  starving  himself.               he  was  nearly  at  the  brink  where  he  was  forced  to  feed.            

[qwetrey-blog1]

       the problem with charlie is he is an ALL TOO FEELING boy.    with a heart too big for his chest.  and hands TOO SMALL,        to touch all the lives he wishes he could.  one of which, held him now.                one who had lived, and had died, and lived again for A TIME inhuman.  yet, the circumstances of CHARLIE’S BIRTH…  brings him no fear of this.  no awe, and no shock.  he knows alec.     knows very well in mortal minds that he SHOULD be a skeleton, buried SIX FEET UNDER.  but the truth is, he’s not and charlie… is glad that he isn’t.  

THAT BEING SAID, he can touch alec now.     only it seems the vampire had other ideas, and had enough of charlie’s rage and his spite…    and had ROBBED HIM of his sense of feeling.  a thing, that made up MOST of what charlie were.   he felt so many things…. more than just the physical.  he were an angel,         born FROM DEATH and from the blood of a monster.  A MONSTER, who too… like alec, had once lived and once died…   only to live again.  

the difference now, is his father… WOULDN’T DO THIS.    he may be cold, and distant… he HAS been, ever since charlie was taken to volterra.  but he wouldn’t do this.     no, he refused to use his power on charlie.           refused to read his mind, EVEN WHEN charlie needed him to.  to know that he WASN’T OKAY.  to know that he needed help.    he shut charlie out entirely.              where as alec, used his gift and swallowed THE DHAMPIR whole.  STEALING everything his heart wishes it could feel.

and then it was back…           not all of it, but some of it, and he could feel an arm under his knees; another at his back, cradling him to their chest…   which DEFINED the person to be male; and… hopefully (he spits at his heart for THE TREACHERY) it were alec.    because in THE END charlie is very much….    still in love, with someone he now believed to never have loved him.  oh, such a TRAGIC TALE…    it would send those weak hearted to end their lives— but not charlie…         he were alive, and very much so despite what alec HAD DONE.  and because he was alive, he were here… 

here in alec’s arms where his screaming had ceased,    and his whimpering had calmed… the boy knew where he was, was safe.  for NO PAIN resonated through his bones.         no, only the feeling of cold flesh to his own;    a familiar feeling, for most HE KNEW were in fact dead… along with the person, the first person- he had given his heart to.      the one who ripped it out, threw it to the floor… and CRUSHED it beneath his foot.  

ITS FOR THIS REASON that charlie shouldn’t forgive him,      but here in his arms; he wants to.  he wants everything to be over.      FOR EVERYTHING to go back to the way it were… but as he feels himself being set down,    he knows this moment of INTIMACY is over…   and if he could whine he would; one last ‘alec’, slurred past PETAL TONED lips— his eyes coming to open,               only minutes after when naught even the phantom of his presence remained.  

                         how did he even know it was real? 

                                                          ❛ ….come back— ❜

[nulliius-blog]

                                          HE  HEARS  HIM.                of  course  he  does  ;;  his  ears  have  become  so  in  tune  with  the  sound  of  charlie’s  voice.             seven  years  did  not  lessen  that  for  the  immortal.             he  would  always  know  every  little  sound  charlie  made  ;;  every  breath,         every  whimper,          every  time  he  ever  said  he  loved  him.               it  never  left  his  mind.           it  was  why  he  REFUSED  to  let  aro  touch  him  --  how  he  just  BERATED  the  father  figure  with  accusations  of  how  he  must  not  trust  alec  if  he  HAS  to  see  his  memories.                to  trust  alec  is  to  trust  a  snake  in  the  grass.   

                                           alec  can’t  go  to  him  right  now.              jane  wanted  his  attention.             it  wasn’t  worth  upsetting  her  again  ;;  it  had  taken  far  too  long  to  get  back  into  her  good  graces.              he  rakes  a  hand  through  his  hair  in  agitation  with  himself.             he  has  to  focus  on  jane  --  so  he  relaxes  himself,            allowing  his  presence  to  be  with  her.                 eventually  she’s  called,                &&  he  dismisses  himself  on  the  premise  of  needing  some  time  alone.                that  much,           he’s  DEMANDED  be  respected.       

                                              when  he  goes  back  to  him,                it’s  late.               he  can  hear  the  gentle  breath  that  once  quite  nearly  lulled  the  immortal  to  sleep  for  years.               how  he  craved  sleep  --  an  eternal  exhaustion  had  consumed  him  many  a  decade  ago.                   mist  sweeps  under  the  male’s  door,                easily  finding  the  dhampir  &&  stealing  away  his  sense  of  sound  as  he  once  did  nightly.             it  was  the  easiest  way  to  make  sure  he  was  comforted  &&  had  no  reason  to  wake.                 he  enters  the  room,                  dark  hues  adjusting  easily  to  the  dark.                the  boy  is  sound  asleep  --  it  makes  it  easier  to  be  around  him.                    he’s  not  looking  at  him  like  he’s  the  devil  reincarnate.                      how  he  wants  to  rest  beside  him  &&  look  after  him.                but  he  stays  in  the  dark  corner,             sure  that  the  moonlight  from  outside  will  not  touch  him.                 this  does  nothing  to  assuage  his  feelings  --  take  away  his  desire  to  FIX  everything.          

[qwetrey-blog1]

             down and back he falls, like a bag of bricks ; as feeling LEAVES HIM—     and as if the world were pulled out from beneath his feet.  GOD, he hates the darkness.  he hates it, and how DEAFENING it is.      how it seems to swallow him whole, and the fear it brings him.  especially in a moment like now when he can’t feel if alec has CAUGHT him or not.   if he’s hit the ground, or is pressed to an icy chest. he’s numb, and he’s blind; and he CAN’T hear his own voice.  it’s DISTORTED when he speaks,  his words fumbled and stuttered as he tries to form them when he can’t feel HIS OWN lips.  he doesn’t know if he’s talking— and it’s the MOST POWERLESS feeling in the world.  a terrifying abyss of nothing, to be trapped suspended within.

❛ alec— ❜ his name is slurred like a drunk man’s vocabulary.        and GOD is the boy’s head a mess of PANIC.  of trying to get his fingers to work.  the effort is there, and it strains the boy as he attempts to fight off the fog which holds him under MURKY WATERS.  waters which he sees now in his MINDS EYE.       as if he were submerged, the thought process is clear… he’s DROWNING, and yet he can breath.  but cannot surface.  

he’s stuck below BLACK, murky depths,  looking upward to the barest flicker of light, and each second is a struggle.   a struggle to lift his arm, and reach for the light TAUNTING him from above charcoal waters.     it’s drifting FARTHER AWAY, and charlie screams.      both AUDIBLY in alec’s world, and in charlie’s own mind.  only one is louder than the other, and the loudest of them all is in HIS MIND.

for oh, his mind had been a colorful place;A LIVING PAINTING, forming itself in different colors and images each second.    it were never still, and it were never silent.  his thoughts, brought with them FEELING and EMOTION.         the only emotion alec receives now is a loneliness so deep and covered up by those that had been around him in FORKS,  that it’s almost IMPOSSIBLE to see.       but once it is felt, it is suffocating.  he misses alec, even now while in his arms—      as if this moment made the VAMPIRE farther from him than any other time.  as if that light he were REACHING for were happier times,     where here as the murky liquid that traps him below…. were the times he lives now.

                                                              ❛ alec … ❜

[nulliius-blog]

                                        the  SCREAMING  does  little  to  unnerve  the  vampire.               these  hallowed  halls  are  FILLED  with  the  shrieks  of  the  pained.                        he  can’t  help  but  drown  it  out  ;;  even  if  the  one  coming  from  the  boy’s  MIND  is  enough  to  drive  him  insane.                         it’s  not  the  scream  that  draws  a  touch  of  CONCERN  to  his  porcelain  countenance  ;;  it’s  the  fact  charlie  is  able  to  say  his  name  --  HE  is  who  he  calls  out  to  when  he  thinks  he’s  been  left  alone  to  suffer.                it’s  not  for  caius  or  aro,             or  even  for  his  mother  or  his  wolf.                  

                                         he  has  to  steel  himself  against  it.                 he  can’t  let  it  be  known  how  WEAK  he  is  for  this  half-human.               he’s  sworn  to  jane  &&  the  others  that  it  was  merely  a  PLOY  to  get  under  the  cullen’s  skin.             that  charlie  meant  nothing  to  him  in  the  least.            but  that  was  easily  said  when  he  was  across  the  planet  from  the  dhampir.              right  now,          he’s  in  his  arms  --  warm  &&  ALIVE  &&  terrified  of  alec.             as  he  should  be.          that  was  how  their  lives  had  to  be.               there  was  no  BEAST  &&  BOY  love  story  to  be  told.            just  pain  &&  regret.        

                                               the  second  time  charlie  speaks  his  name,              alec’s  jaw  clenches  like  he’s  been  punched -- again.             it’s  so  GENTLE  ;;  so  innocent.           scared.              how  he  craved  that  tone  in  his  victims.             charlie  was  NOT  his  prey.                 

                                               he  speeds  himself  up  so  that  he  can  reach  the  male’s  room  ;;  he  couldn’t  let  himself  be  so  exposed  to  the  coven  awaiting  his  return.               he  hurries  inside  &&  contemplates  his  move.                   then  he  does  what  he  SHOULDN’T.               he  sits  onto  the  edge  of  the  bed  with  the  other  on  his  lap,              cold  arms  wrapped  around  him  ;;  COMFORT.              he  can’t  feel  it.           oh,           but  CAN  ;;  for  alec’s  unknowingly  allowed  his  power’s  grip  to  lessen  just  slightly  --  enough  to  know  he’s  being  held,        at  least.              his  focus  was  JARRED  by  his  words.                he  can  feel  the  way   his  hand  brushes  the  back  of  his  neck  &&  brushes  his  hair.                 

                                              but  then  he  can  HEAR  jane  asking  where  he  is.                    he  can’t  stay.          so  he  lays  him  onto  the  bed  &&  presses  the  most  FAINT  kiss  he  can  to  his  forehead.               he  might  as  well  have  felt  like  wind.                  he’s  gone  &&  far  down  the  corridor  before  he  releases  charlie  from  the  mist,              returning  his  senses.                  

[qwetrey-blog1]

        expression reels, like he’d BEEN HIT himself— struck across the face by alec’s words; before the features of his face, steel.        his stance becoming RIGID and STIFF, his spine straight and shoulders TAUT.  charlie thought he knew what he was.  he was different, but his mother said different wasn’t bad.  that HE WERE special,             and that special were good.  he WAS the life that his father never knew he were capable of making.       the breath in HIS LUNGS, the light in his eyes.  he were such a thing, for naught only his father.  but mother, aunt and uncle.  for THE COVEN, and the wolves as a whole.  

charlie-carlilse, were A BEACON when he was born.            a bloodied babe, born from his mother’s LAST breath while she lay there dying.      but was a beacon none the less.  a light so bright and untarnished.  he had been CHERUBIC, with every smile.       his eyes, bright like two snow globes with THE WORLD held within each one.          but now he’s fractured.  only time will heal him.  which unfortunately he has plenty of.      too much time to make HIS WOUNDS either better— or worse.

this place however,        DAMNED THEM to grow wider,                 to fester and grow with gangrene.  there were no safety here.  no hope.  nothing but the BLACK VOID which alec rendered himself.  a void,  charlie thought he had PIERCED years ago when he saw a light so FAINT, that he thought it were only an illusion.  alec’s heart beat, when it was said to be dead— and charlie let himself believe a CHILDREN’S fairytale,   of a beast and a boy and a happily ever after.

CHILDISH SPITE builds in his lungs like smoke from a fire;     mutt, mutt, mutt, mutt— he’s no mutt, he’s a wolf.     and charlie doesn’t have to A DAMN THING alec tells him to. he could step closer,    force him TO HEAR the sound of his heart beat and look him in the eye.  so he knows what he did, and doesn’t forget.  he made something DARK in something once IMPOSSIBLY BRIGHT.     for though volterra could not ruin him, alec’s words surely with time could.

                                                              ❛ ….  no. ❜

[nulliius-blog]

                              ANGER   is  boiling  in  his  veins  ;;  daring  to  make  him  LASH  OUT  like  a  coiled  snake.                he’s  angry  at  the  dhampir  for  coming  back  here  ;;  for  making  him  feel  what  he  did  not  wish  to  feel.           but  he’s  angry  at  HIMSELF,            too.               angry  that  he’d  allowed  himself  to  become  to  VULNERABLE  to  something  so  idiotic  as  love.                      disgusted  with  himself  for  the  fact  that  DESPITE  the  knowledge  given  that  he  did  love  this  male,                  he  knew  he  could  still  tear  him  limb  from  limb  with  only  SLIGHT  remorse.                    he’d  truly  become  a  thing  to  FEAR.                  how  proud  caius  would  be.             

                                       charlie’s  STUBBORNNESS  is  infuriating.              just  GO.             make  yourself  SAFE  ;;  god  knows  you’re  not  safe  in  alec’s  presence.                  he  couldn’t  even  trust  himself  to  not  harm  to  boy  he’d  once  called  his  lover.                  ❛    you’re  stubbornness  will  be  your  downfall,    ❜             his  voice  is  cold.              he  has  to  be  emotionless.             can’t  let  him  know  he’s  battling  his  own  mind.             the  side  of  him  that  wants  to  say  he’s  SORRY  for  everything  &&  fix  it  against  the  side  of  him  that  has  known  the  light  of  day  FAR  LONGER  ;;  the  side  that  was  nothing  more  than  a  voided  killer.           

                                        so  he  does  what  he  MUST  ;;  allows  the  fine  mist  to  brush  from  his  fingertips  down  to  the  floor,         curling  around  charlie’s  ankles  &&  rendering  him  victim  to  the  darkness.            no  senses.             just  the  darkness  that  alec  allowed  himself  to  call  home.               he’s  quick  to  catch  the  other  when  he  falls,            a  scowl  curling  his  lips  as  he  smells  every  scent  lingering  on  the  boy  ;;  WOLVES.        CULLENS.          OTHERS.                   he  lifts  him  up  into  his  arms,            very  aware  that  charlie  wouldn’t  know  he  was  being  TOUCHED,             much  less  CARRIED.              

                                           his  room  isn’t  far.             it  would  take  him  seconds  to  get  there  if  he  ran.             but  he  doesn’t  --  just  walks.                 he  won’t  give  up  his  one  chance  to  be  close  to  the  other,             even  in  a  way  that  was  against  the  boys  will.                  he’d  return  his  senses  once  he  was  alone  in  his  room.                 till  then,              he  just  carries  him,             far  too  aware  of  the  fact  he  was  holding  skin  ;;  how  his  jaw  sets  at  the  images  that  become  his  own  mind.        

[qwetrey-blog1]

               anger oh, how it boils inside of him—      turning his insides RAW, and his heart a BLEEDING red.  for with each pound of the organ,  he swears he can feel it tearing itself apart.  the ferocity of each thump, SHAKING HIM down to the marrow of his bones.      for if anything, charlie is an ever-feeling boy.         with TOO BIG of a heart, to fit inside of his body.  and right now?    he feels like it were an open wound, festering with each NEGATIVE emotion; that eats away at the GOOD.

for charlie were a fragile thing;         made of stars, of sunlight and flower-laden fields.   he were a SPRING BREEZE, and trickle OF SUNLIGHT through the branches of trees.  he were angel-incarnate.  yet now he was fractured… and breaking at THE SEAMS.      as if the porcelain skin he bares,           were not STRONG ENOUGH to keep within all that it holds.  

like he were a GLASS DOLL dropped to cold ground below,    he feel’s as if he were laying BROKEN at the end of a steep drop.         pieces of bone-white china, scattered around; and bleeding the red ink, which painted ROSE-TINTED lips.      and oh, no one is helping him.          they’re walking over his pieces with an audible crunch, THE SOUND of each step resounding in his ears, SHARP and never ending.

for his mother was his cure and the wolves his comfort.    NEITHER OF WHICH he has to protect him from this.  though their scent still lingers strong on his collar.  

❛ SHUT UP— ❜   fingers threaten to take hold of the front of alec’s cloak, threaten to shake him silly and scream ‘WHY’, to get an answer from his cherubic form;    that looks at him with eyes, that had once gazed upon him so fondly—             yet now look at him with THE HARSH REALITY, that is his cruelty.            ❛ you don’t know anything, shut up. ❜

[nulliius-blog]

                                          ❛    ANYTHING  ?            says  the  MUTT  of  creature  that’s  hardly  lived  a  FRACTION  of  my  life.    ❜             his  words  taste  like  BILE.          ❛      i  know  you.          i  once  had    direct  access    to  your  mind,        REMEMBER  ?            i  know  what  makes  you  TICK.     ❜               he  can’t  allow  charlie  to  remain  in  volterra  --  he  can’t  bear  to  have  him  here.               to  be  reminded  of  how  DARK  of  a  creature  he’d  become  in  comparison  to  the  ANGEL  that  was  charlie  cullen.           

                                               yes,           charlie  was  FRAGILE.             it  made  it  all  to  easy  for  alec  to  break  him  in  two.             ❛      you’re  ANGRY  because  i  didn’t  CARE.             but  the  fault  is  on  you,        little  one.          you  put  your  trust  in  me.           in  THE  MOST  HATED  VAMPIRE  IN  THE  WORLD.          because  you  thought  you  saw  a  LIGHT  ?                that  light  has  been  snuffed  out.              it’s  been  that  way  for  a  millennium.          i  don’t  know  what  you  saw.      ❜

                                                  none  of  those  words  are  forced.                it’s  been  the  only  thought  on  his  mind  for  years  now  ;;  how  STRANGE  it  was  for  alec  to  have  self-depreciating  thoughts.            he’d  once  had  an  ego  bigger  than  anyone’s.       {  save  perhaps  jane.  }           but  now  he  had  a  comparison  point.        one  he’d  CARED  for.          now  there  was  light  in  him  ;;  if  only  from  the  hole  carved  straight  through  his  chest.           

                                                     ❛     i  won’t  repeat  myself.          go  to  your  room.          go  back  to  washington  for  all  that  i  care.          just  stay  VERY  far  away  from  me.      ❜

[qwetrey-blog1]

      annoying?  — oh he were a MISTAKE, this he can accept; seeing the pain he brings his mother & father, enough proof of it.   but to be annoying? SEEMS to be, as if alec wished to add salt to his wounds.      wounds that FESTERED in his heart, as the words in his letter, were carved into his the bleeding organ;                as if to remind him, that he were only A CHILD… and that children, know nothing of love.              he was blinded by HIS YOUTH, blinded by the promises of what he’d read IN BOOKS.   and he trusted the wolf, that the axeman should have SLAIN.  

FIST strikes out fast—                 far faster than he would have years ago (hitting alec in the jaw).  for to this day, he is growing.  maybe not physically, NOT ANYMORE—     but as his power grows, so does HIS strength, and HIS speed.        his nails are sharp, as are his teeth and his heart.      for though it warms, and it softens for the WOLVES, for his MOTHER, and mortal grandfather.   it goes hard AS  STEEL in a place like this.   that reminds him of a time, he given no choice but to be happy with HIS CAGE.

however, with his return happiness is no longer.    this place brings to him SHADOWS of regret.  GHOSTS of a time he thought to be true,      but were false.  they were lies, and he can hear jackal’s as if they were GROWLING right into his ear.             for that’s what these people are.  jackals, picking at the carcasses of those they had DECIMATED.  

                                                              ❛ i HATE you. ❜

[nulliius-blog]

                               if  there  is  ONE  THING  alec  is  not  USED  to,            it’s  being  struck.              NO  ONE  DARED.             everyone  feared  him  ;;  for  good  reason.           most  who   even  raised  a  hand  to  the  little  prince  were  decimated  where  they  stood.                 he  never  gave  anyone  a  chance  to  be  close  enough.           but  then  came  along  this  little  BOY.             {     he’s  nothing  but  a  TODDLER  to  the  immortal.          a  toddler  who’s  idealistic  view  of  the  world  would  cut  a  hole  into  his  chest.    }                 to  be  STRUCK  by  someone  such  as  charlie  is  insult  enough  ;;  but  with  their  history  ?              

                                TIME  SLOWS  for  just  the  second  that  the  first  connects  to  his  jaw  ;;  sharp  emotion  is  FORCED  into  his  mind  as  he  takes  in  the  boys  own  mind.              how  painful  it  felt  --  such  a  burst  of  emotion  is  enough  to  blind  the  vampire  ;;  what  with  him  not  allowing  even  the  smallest  of  emotions  to  break  his  focus  these  days.               the  punch  knocks  him  back  two  steps  --  if  not  be  physical  force,          then  emotional.           his  face  contorts  --  eyes  wide  with  more    {  SHOCK  }     than  pain.                perhaps  the  words  would  wound  someone  else  further.             not  alec.             if  anything,         they’re  what  give  him  the  resolve  to  stand  up  tall  once  more.          

                                ❛     was  that  meant  to  HARM  me  ?       ❜                       his  jaw  SETS  in  defiance  to  the  punch.            he  can  handle  himself.                   handle  the  way  his  heart  CRAVES  skin-to-skin  contact  so  that  he  can  peer  into  the  boys  mind.               ❛          pathetic.        ❜                 he  can’t  allow  charlie  to  think  for  even  a  moment  that  he’s  actually  affected  by  his  presence.               so  he  must  become  like  the  STONE  he’d  once  been  before  this  child  cracked  him  open.            

                                   CHARCOAL  HUES  glance  away  from  the  dhampir,                 unable  to  bring  himself  to  acknowledge  his  pain.                 the  dark  purple  under  his  eyes  digs  into  his  cheekbones,            making  him  look  TIRED  –  marring  the  cherubic  fragility  of  his  countenance.                 nothing  so    perfect    should  look  this  drained.                        he  moves  to  cross  his  arms  behind  his  back.                 had  it  truly  been  so  long  ?                  how  little  time  meant.                    ❛         would  you  like  for  me  to  show  you  to  your  room  ?       ❜            his  hostility  is  met  with  ICE  –  accent  COLD  &&  DEVOID  of  the  warmth  he’d  once  spoken  to  the  boy  with.    

[qwetrey-blog1]

       charlie still looks like AN ANGEL—           the warmth of his anger, fueling the warmth in his heart.                              for though it aches for the howling OF WOLVES,      and for the TENDER TOUCH of his mother’s hands.        he knows, in the end it beats faster and harder for one thing—   for one person, AND one person only.    and it beats now, so fast in his chest.         charlie hates this fact, hates that he can’t stop it COMPLETELY, to keep it silenced from alec’s ALL-HEARING ears;         but he isn’t dead, no he’s living.   and he’s breathing.    he is near everything that alec was ONCE, but can never be again.   human.  if only half.  

❛ — i know where it is, ❜ but the room, it’s STAINED with alec;           stained by the two of them, and the memories they made.      whether it be with the countless books, or GRAND PIANO.    they walked these very halls, talking.    just   talking.    and then there were other things, things charlie can’t DARE to speak;           for he would choke on air thinking of such things,  for they would bring him regret.     and pain.     SO MUCH of it, that he wouldn’t be able to feel anything else.  not without his mother, to guide him free.  

[nulliius-blog]

                          how  he  WISHES  he  could  ignore  the  sound  of  charlie’s  oh  so  HUMAN  HEART.                 he  doesn’t  want  to  remember  how  it  sounded  whenever  they  were  near  to  each  other  ;;  or  the  way  he  could  FEEL  human  when  holding  his  hand  --  how  charlie’s  heartbeat  became  his  own.             none  of  these  things  are  worth  the  pain  that  also  came  with  these  memories.              he  knows  all  too  well  what  images  are  moving  through  the  boys  brain.             what  he  must  be  feeling.               alec  has  grown  all  too  used  to  feeling  nothing  once  more.             to  have  him  back,           just  out  of  reach  ?              he  feels  as  though  a  vice  grip  has  clamped  is  talons  around  his  throat.              

                               ❛           then  go  to  it.          your  heartbeat  is  annoying  me.          ❜