man of my word.

independent elijah mikaelson. slightly canon divergent. written by ashlyn.

[constellatiion-blog]

❛ that’d be me, i guess that makes you    elijah— the noble one, right? ❜

   hymns of intimidation assaulted her nerves let    it be his DEMEANOR, or rumored intelligence,     cassie wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.    the mikaelsons have a legacy, bold enough not    to be ignored. even graced the protection of at    least one of them.

[originalxmorality]

               ❛ ---- just elijah will do. ❜

     the tone of his voice is clipped but it is devoid of malice.  instead he speaks with exhaustion, pull of his                     features downward as his eyes avert for a          few moments before returning to her face.

  ❛ you are being well accommodated for your services, yes? ❜

[originalxmorality]

constellatiion

          ❛ ah, you're niklaus' little live in witch, aren't you? ❜

    darkly rimmed eyes do not lift from their position                    on the floor, stature slumped as shoulders       dipped. exhaustion CLINGS to every feature he                possess; and his voice is heavy.

[originalxmorality]

idk like for a starter maybe???

[darkinherheart]

    The silence is not D E A F E N I N G, it is anything but—- it is soothing, easing frayed nerves and the beating of a heart that has dealt with far too much, and is still beating. The forest, this is where Allison Argent feels safest, because here, she expects danger, has dealt with it on more than one occasion, has beaten it. This is Beacon Hills, after all. The woods is not a place for mere animals, monsters lurk within the s h a d o w s, waiting for you to falter, if only a mere step. Because she is aware of the dangers, she is on her guard, and because of that, she is prepared. Funny, in these woods, a testament to her battle—- a battle to overcome demons within just as much as the ones that existed about, she feels safer than she does in her own home.

      The sight of the trees cause her breaths to e v e n, the branches brushing her back                                           like old friends welcoming her.

      It’s because she’s so well acquainted that she knows something isn’t right,       that though she hears nothing, she can practically feel their presence,       unbidden, unwelcome.

        Beacon Hills had become a literal b e a c o n for the supernatural,         the result of a sacrifice meant to save, to protect, as is her code.                                         So protect is what she will do.                                 From strangers, monsters.

     She follows the man, steps careful, n i m b l e, as she knows her way around. What surprises her is that despite the man’s knowledge being far less than hers, he treads silently.

     She senses when he knows she’s there before he makes a proper move, the infinitesimal shift in his stance, the too-careful movements, and so she acts before he can, bowstring taut and ready, she releases with deadly aim.

                              ——- though she doesn’t miss, her target never makes.

   Almost immediately, another arrow is notched in place, ready for anything, —- anything but words, spoken upon his lips as casually as that of a business meeting’s.

                             ( && their daughters to be leaders,                                              their sons to be soldiers. )

    Sometimes, in order to be a leader, it’s just as important to know when not to fight a pointless war as it is to have the skills to fight in any battlefield.

                So she lowers her bow, but does not let it fall to the ground,                 arrow held l o o s e l y between fingertips.

                                                                      ❝You’re not lying. How is that?❞

          The truth that reverberates within his words is unnerving.                                                        A monster she can’t fight?

     ❝What gave me away?         —- you heard me, before        I even pulled out my arrow.

                                                             What gave me away?❞

[originalxmorality]

          the gaze he levels her with is remarkably calm. though her arrow    still lay betwixt nimble fingers, his face shows no mark of the                AGITATION one might come to expect from someone who has        been seemingly attacked without provocation. the thought of it merely     sends a twist upon his lips, curvature arched upward as both of his                     hands returned to his side, ever the epitome of grace            and feigned morality. 

                        he thinks for a moment how easy it would be to turn this         archer's arrow upon herself, to send it with a FLICK of his wrist through               the thin membrane of her heart. surely, had it been any other                     she had so brazenly attacked -- any of his brothers, perhaps          his sister, too -- they wouldn't have hesitated, but he holds within       him a tender curiosity for hunters, particularly the youthful breed,                     and it is for this reason, and this reason alone, she is SPARED. 

       he knows better than to make a move towards her. though he could    spend all night dodging her blows until not a single arrow remained to her                 he would rather not expend the energy. he has halted her with          calm speech, enraptured her with the truth and as her weapon                           falls to her side, he knows that with speech alone she will     be easily subdued. it is always the curious that fall into his trap. 

                         ❛ how indeed. ❜

               his resulting smile is slightly vulpine, though not at all predatory.            she has just showcased a flaw -- a rather large and conspicuous      one at that -- and instead of showcasing arrogance like others                               might showcase fine china, he pauses.               in the space of the silence he can hear her heartbeat pick up,        though only slightly. she has been hunting long enough to know how                            to control her fear, but not long enough to know that,                 even while calm, she is merely PREY. 

                                          ❛ as i assume you purport to be a hunter, why                             don't you tell me? you'll never learn if i merely hand it to                                                you. what could i possibly have heard? ❜

            his voice is far from patronizing. he does not speak as if talking      to a petulant child, but rather as an instructor, twirling her arrow between                   his fingers while he waits for her to riddle it out. 

[originalxmorality]

daughterstobeleaders

                   ❛ i do hope you don't mind my asking              what exactly it is you plan on doing with                                             ------ that? ❜

                     in all earnest, at this moment he is                 more arrogance than man, looking to the                               weapon in her hand with a                       mixture of amusement and slight                                                 agitation. 

           ❛ has my walk through the trees offended you? ❜

[ohmyklaus]

[ohmyklaus]

[mercying-deactivated20180223]

♕ ———- }

{ NOBILITY surrounding all other emotional tethers ( a scent of RICH trickery )         ——— she wishes to trickle a finger along his ribcage only to FEEL him tremble.         collarbone exposed to the one of ANCIENT power & desired DOMINANCE.                 he has yet to taste her madness ( it is trapped beneath her flesh like TAR )          inhalations heavy with NEGLECTED chaos ; there are kingdoms within her blood         ( & yet, lips CURVE the slightest ) his frame remains the embodiment of SECRECY.                      & her limbs are riddled with the diseased FLAMES of compassion                   ( fingers clutching for MERCY & fated D E S T R U C T I O N. )        poetry sleeping soundlessly beneath ASH & FIRE ( a queen’s wretched DUTY )                 does he speak the language of FORGOTTEN sins & buried CHAOS ?                 ah ! but to tame the WILDFIRE within her ( flesh rotting with time’s impatience )      his lips felt like the DEVIL’S laughter ( delightful sadism & wailing loneliness. )        ——— a softly strung inhale at his touch ( EMPATHY begs to devour him )                  he is a king’s wreckage ; left to dissolve into sheer COAL & history.        curiosity remains a dangerous toy to possess, yet it teases at her ( insistent to OBEY )     ———- mild amusement entangles within proper mannerisms as she parts coral lips to speak. }

  ❝  ———- & what of beauty, my LORD ?                     it means little when freedom runs at the sight of me.                    i wish to know more about you ; with your own permission, of course.❞

{ she has begun to walk ; fitted dress ruffling with manipulated movements of LOYALTY.       ———                       he is of beast & man ;     for his mouth fits upon bloodied battle cries , yet his hands created to touch a woman      ( his presence is dreaded COMFORT, such demons which plague him SETTLE. )               but oh ! a PETROVA is not meant to hear such HELLISH screams                         for she is purified EMPATHY ; a scapegoat for souls to TORTURE                         a sacrificial lamb built to bleat only for the SLAUGHTER                            a beautified creation for POSSESSION.                               & yet, such PRECIOUS lungs are lined with soot                                     she was RUINED before she was FOUNDED. }

[originalxmorality]

          he is watching her with CAREFUL ocular movements, denoting in his      mind the way she seems to sway even whilst remaining                  stationary and she seems to him to be a jewel of another          species entirely; a princess cut from marble ---- just as hard with a            contrastingly smooth surface, as BEAUTIFUL as she is blunt and      he is immediately enraptured, but not quite { captured } yet, for he                    is a man of much more level head and not easily snared.

          however, it is hard not to feel a pull toward one so exquisite; so       uniquely soft spoken yet SHARP tongued. she is of her own mind, not so                      far sunken beneath the waves of royalty to understand that           things that can be taken ( such as mortality and beauty ) are not to be       held at so high a value as other more intangible qualities ---- such as     free will and the effects of involuntary subjugation. it is not his intention to                   CAGE her as if she were a meadowlark singing at his window,          but rather to find within her a companion; someone to stand by his                                  side, even if only for the small allotment she would be                                                                                    alive.

                ❛ you are quite perceptive for your stature, my lady.          which, i pray, you do not take as degradation. i do not                         mean to insult, only to exalt you above               the others of your status i have met. ❜

          his words are spoken sweet as honey, words smooth as velvet.     he is far more DANGEROUS than she could possibly paint him to be. if she                  is the lamb, he is the wolf; teeth bared and already blood soaked          who could be pushed toward the fancies of both the light and    the dark, and while he cannot speak these words of caution to her directly             ( at least, not yet ) she would be wise to remember that not all         monsters come packaged with horns. 

                                                          following behind, he quietly asserts:                                   ❛ ---- i will divulge what you wish, if only i can                                                      assume an equal agreement from yourself. ❜

[originalxmorality]

mercying replied to your post: mercying said:im going to punch y...

also elena really likes that suit. * drools. I LVOE YOU SO MCUH OKAY IT HURTS

cURLS AROUND YOU I LOVE YOU MORE OK

[originalxmorality]

im going to punch you in the neck i've missed u so much get out of tow n

why don’t u try and make me punk

[deadxringerarchive-deactivated2]

              ‘          elijah.'     words cease to form within her throat    as the air surrounding her seems to     suffocate at the sight of the original.     bodice growing rigid out of mere     necessity before the lump within her    throat seems manageable. 

      ‘ iwould argue that it’s always been like this.         maybe you’ve been gone so long you’ve just forgotten. ‘

[originalxmorality]

               ❛ a possibility, i suppose. ❜

    a shift in the air as regal stature moves;     lips once painted into a melancholic     smile droop slightly, hands finding refuge     in the pockets of his trousers. she seems     hesitant. understandably, he muses. any-     one who finds ease in his presence is     surely asking for damnation.

         ❛ though in my millennia, i've never had             much of a problem with recollection.             i'd wager to say my problem is just                                         the opposite. ❜

[originalxmorality]

                                 ❛ and poor elijah…                     he dedicates himself to everyone but himself. ❜

                                   independent   elijah mikaelson.                                    slightly  canon divergent. open                                    to all forms of interaction, from                                    icon chat to para.     crossover                                     friendly.        written by ashlyn. 

                              new orleans.      inquire.      bestow.

[originalxmorality]

breathes on

do u mind breathing quieter kinda busy over here 8l

[originalxmorality]

          ❛ is it possible this town has become                   even more depressing                   than when i left it? ❜

[oppressi]

 ❛ not so easy keeping a city like this intact, let alone       mending a family of our own. why must we be so       difficult?  ❜

[originalxmorality]

          ❛ that is something i've yet to figure out myself.                             but i will keep you posted on my progress.❜

[theoriginalsalwaysandforeve-blog]

"I will not let my sister suffer that wrath!"

[stubbornstrumpet-arc]

             What ease a change in millennia had brought about for                  communication. A simple phone call to summon her son to her side,                  veiled by the voice of his sweet young sister. Such a foolish girl, so                  ready to believe the best in the ones she had given her heart to. And                  yet naive as she was, there was no doubt Rebekah was the witch’s                  daughter, examining her reflection in the mirror absent-mindedly. In                  the polished glass stood herself; a girl of seventeen in clothes which                  betrayed her time, and eyes which did not belong to her —- when had                  her children inherited their father’s eyes? Rebekah’s body allowed for a                  certain g r a c e which had been denied her in her own, a posture                  adopted from so many years of feigning superiority and indulging in sin.

                 Caught in admiration of her new appearance, Esther missed the                   sound of another approaching the door, turning only when another                   called a name ——————- her name. From her position before the fire-                  place Esther turned, gaze moving to the hallway with a slow, deliberate                  smile. Each step towards Elijah was careful, summoned from memory                  and observation. The movements of a monster. ❝ Elijah — you came. ❞                  The sound which left her lips unhinged the woman momentarily, though                  she was hasty to regather her composure. 

                 Despite her smile her gaze lingered on the man, a conscious effort to                  keep crystal eyes from hardening. Dear Elijah, her dear, charming son.                  Who could have guessed such a future for the boy she had known? A                  future damned by Niklaus. ❝ You didn’t bring Klaus along, did you? I                  don’t want to see him, brother. —- Not now. ❞ Or ever, were the witch to                  have her way.

[originalxmorality]

          a calling of his full name causes but a furrowing of dark brows.              for a few short moments, it is all he can do but stand idly at the door,               hands resting in the pockets of his trousers. it is not, perhaps, something              that any other would pick up but the utterance of his full name, not a               pet like variation that rebekah normally would use as a ploy for him to do              whatever she bid him was... odd, to say the least and while he does not,               of course, let his suspicions show upon his face, he does make a mental               note to approach with a veil of caution. perhaps this emergency, whatever              it was, was more grave than he had originally imagined. either that, or               something was very, very wrong. 

             his suspicions only grew when she heaved a near sigh of relief at the sight              of him, as if she had expected that he might not come. again, very odd.               surely there had be a time in earlier centuries where getting ahold of him               might have proved a bit more challenging, but now? when modern               technology allowed him to be reached within a moment's notice? how               could she have expected him not to respond, not to come when she had              made is crystal clear that she had needed him? his lips press into a hard               line, an attempt made to keep them from dipping into a frown. 

             ❛ ------ you called for me. of course i came. did you expect me not to? ❜              he speaks in a soft voice, no sign of suspicions present in either tone nor              demeanor. after a few moments of silence, he takes a few cautious steps               into the room, allowing his gaze to wander about for a moment before it              came to rest back on her face. ❛ i am alone. what is it that you needed? ❜