a grandiose illusion

ind. elijah mikaelson A challenge, when unheard of, boasts a surprise to select few.

[perennialiniquity]

The most terrifying monsters always look just like ordinary men.

Deborah Harkness, Shadow of Night

[perennialiniquity]

[perennialiniquity]

“You have too many morals.”

           A tiny sigh passed from his lips at the statement, one that seemed to past from Niklaus’s lips every turn of the century. ( Too many morals ) – what a quaint notion; indeed, to possess them required they be owned in the first instance. When he did not have, he practiced a fraction at a time; not to correct his path, but to clear the one ahead. Where messes resulted, they were disposed of without question. He is both in awe and vexed by the complexity of life, and each move is placed to almost pin-point precision to ensure their survival. If he were truly moral, his hand would have been played, and the Originals remain a dusty myth.

   Did morality ascribe guilt, or does his assuage it? Is it morality he panders with at all?    

          His gaze rose from where they had been cast down in contemplation to meet his brother’s. With a flick of his wrist in Niklaus’ direction, he said. “If you seek cause, look no further than the mirror. What you lack in caution, I have in multitude.”      

[tessalivesandbreathesbooks]

He did not know which was more painful, the waking or the sleeping. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. When he woke, there was nothing to do but think, and his waking thoughts were worse than nightmares.

A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin (via tessalivesandbreathesbooks)

[nikulaus]

Yesteryears

[perennialiniquity]

imbalanceofpower - 

At Elijah’s words, a sound formed within the hollow of his throat. A dull chuckle, and he let it escape as effortlessly as his feet carried him. “You only say that because you know you will lose. As you always do,” he yelled, amusement tangling from every word. When Elijah sped up, so did Niklaus, cunningly avoiding everything that may trip him. He had spent enough time in this forest to know every tree, rock and torn bush; every protruding branch and shrub laid out to hinder him in his path to victory. Something his knowledge made all more easily obtainable.

Coming to an abrupt stop, Niklaus struggled to maintain his balance, arms flailing. He stumbled and fell, knees colliding hard against the ground, gravel and grit glued to the skin of the palm which supported his weight. After catching his breath, he straightened too, just in time to accept the slap on the back from his brother. Content, the younger let a smile unfurl across his lips.

Now sitting on a nearby log, hands on each side of him, Niklaus squinted his eyes against the sun rays. It felt like fire was licking his skin, the heat stroking his face as a drop of sweat dripped from his hair and rolled down his cheek. Moments later, his attention was captured by the branch sticking out from beneath his left foot.

“Do you think I will be a good swordsman?” he asked, inspecting the branch with a closed eye now that he was closer to his brother. Elijah’s words had seemingly fallen on deaf ears, for his thoughts were occupied with something else entirely. “Father is going to give me my own sword one day.” Niklaus let the branch fall at his side, swung it. “I just want to make him proud.”

           It seemed as if his proposal was overlooked in line of other thoughts. Casting a sideways glance at his brother, Elijah’s smile faltered in wake of the proclamation, knowing all too well the desire to please their father and the vision he had for his sons. His plans for the afternoon underwent a rapid shift, and he rose from the edge of the falls, running a damp hand across across his brow. “For sure, Niklaus. But indeed, you can’t an excellent swordsman -” he broke off a similar sized branch to the one his brother was holding off the nearest tree - “without practice.” 

            Using the branch, to mark out a large oval in the dirt, speaking as he went, “The more practice you gain before you wield an actual blade, the more you’ll earn father’s favour.” Elijah himself had only begun wielding a blade a few months prior, hence he was no more excellent than the young apprentices worked with the town’s metalsmith, but he could manage a simple sparring session with his younger brother, no doubt. Lifting his makeshift sword into battle stance, he dipped his chin in Niklaus’s direction.

            “Are you ready, or do you feel content to bask in the sun?”           

[fuckindiva]

Art by Nicola Samori

[perennialiniquity]

“Am I damned?”

                   “The concept of damnation in itself includes death. We crossed that line the moment we became what we are. Without death, damnation is an elusive fantasy.” The newspaper is lowered to reveal his stern, if bemused gaze. 

                     “No reason to be dramatic, Rebekah. The stain will wash out. Although I fail to say the same for you if you fail remove your foot from the table at once.”

[perennialiniquity]

“You don’t seem in the mood for company.”

            The weathered pages of the book imparted the sole company to his unhurried afternoon. The chateau had settled into a certain serene peace - one though frequent throughout the centuries - would always vanish whenever the Mikaelsons gathered under one roof. When she appeared, the barest whisk of fabric the only tell of her movement, his gaze lingered on his page several moments longer before it passed to hers. The spines of the book protested as he shut them once more; a finger sliding between the pages of ebony and parchment to mark his spot. 

   “More often than not, company tends to invite itself; one can only flow with the tide.” 

                                         “Was there something you required?” 

[bad-beautie]

Visit Original Link

[perennialiniquity]

La mer Les a bercés Le long des golfes clairs Et d'une chanson d'amour La mer A bercé mon cœur pour la vie

-Charles Trenet

[sky-eve]

In the Forests of the Night sentence starter

“Am I damned?”

“You are trying to be forgiven for doing nothing wrong.”

“Is that all you were armed with?”

“You made me lose my prey.”

“You look as if our guest had a serpent’s tongue.”

“I may not have signed the Devil’s book, but that does notmean there are not creatures out there who belong to him.”

“There are creatures out there that would damn if they could,simply for spite.”

“If you need to fight someone to heal your pride, fight me.”

“Why have you brought me here?”

“Hunt or die, it is your choice.”

“I will not sell my soul to save my life.”

“It is easy to kill…and it gets easier the more you do it.”

“You are a predator now, and survival is the only rule of a predator’s world.”

“I won’t kill because you want me to.”

“Kill because it is your right.”

“The world is evil.”

“I’m not your messenger boy.”

“Are you a god now, ____, deciding who is to live and who is to die?”

 “No one deserves to die any more than they deserve to live.”

“The weak die, the strong survive. There is nothing else.”

“You look around this room as if you saw it differently from all of us. What do you see?”

“I prefer to kill in silence.”

“You have too many morals.”

“I have some morals, I suppose. But none that interfere with the way I survive.”

“Look at yourself. You can hardly preach the benefits of morality.”

“Remember what happened the last time you challenged me.”

“Your condolences aren’t worth much.”

“You don’t seem in the mood for company.”

“Coward. That’s all you really are—a coward.”

“You can’t even keep your temper long enough to think.”

“Why are you sitting on the table?”

“I will avenge this scar and every scary you have put into my heart.”

“I am not weak anymore, but I think you are.”

“Years ago I gave you a choice between giving up and fighting to the death. Do I get no such chance?”

“The wound you dealt long ago has returned to you.”

“Come to see the show?”

“So my stalker would visit me in person.”

“I was hoping I could convince you not to follow those creatures…but I guess it’s too late, isn’t it?”

“There had to be some other way to deal with this.”

[perennialiniquity]

       ( ooc. ) I’m absolutely thrilled by the wonderful people who’ve followed me thus far & who are willing to toss a slice of opportunity my way for my take on Elijah. Thank you to the lovely individuals who’ve reblogged my promo; you have humbled me with your words. To get events on the road, consider this the first plotting call for mutuals. If you’ve liked this post, I’ll reach out to you sometime today or tomorrow to discuss ideas. 

[perennialiniquity]

A man’s power is in the half-light, in the half-seen movements of his hand & the unguessed-at expression of his face. ~ Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall

[dresswellbro]

[eyebagdehaan]

Dane DeHaan for L’Uomo Vogue by Caitlin Cronenberg (outtake)

[herbloodlacedtheirwine]

Ashes and Smoke

[perennialiniquity]

herbloodlacedtheirwine -

The instrument’s handle hadn’t been the part that’d lay resting within the palm of her hand— no, it was the iron of the blade itself which sat lodged within such narrow space. Aged as it appeared at first glance, the edges had not rusted as a known result of time passed. Sharp was the metal that tore such seemingly delicate skin when her grip tightened just that bit more. Porcelain, steel; she would almost want to argue the first were it ever an assumption made again.

A human’s perception was untrained and lacking, so trivial compared to theirs, that a crimson drop of such clarity seeping through would go unnoticed, but to them? Anything but. Even the smallest bead of sanguine would envelop each sense; sight, smell— taste. Often just out of reach, but never for long. Temptation grew when the blade leisurely slid from its containment and her palm barely rose above his, where remnants of blood were still displayed upon the healing expanse of skin. Though her intentions were to aid and her offering was clear, none should mistake such actions for negligence nor adequate trust. Perhaps it was merely a reality of tick for tack, though it bore a returned courtesy, though one of cautious sincerity, “Please.”

The dagger however, would for now return to her other hand— where its handle laid embedded within its palm and the blade’s edge resting along the contour of her arm. Out of sight, but guarded much the same.

        The heavy dewdrop scent holding the sharp blade of vitality fluttered upon the edges of his senses long before he bore sight of its rosy hue; an encapsulation of breath, death and those bereft of life all in one. He was long past his due for a feed, and his countenance was brought into question by the intensity of a temptation he was in poor form to resist. It was blade sharpened on weak nerves, an exceedingly potent one. 

        His gaze was sharp with glimmers of consternation as he beheld hers. The dagger had long since vanished to the other hand, with this one offered up in tasteful temptation; the healing flesh a reminder that a day when such voracious appetites did not exist was gone. This meant she was not the one who breathed her last breath, nor the one that came before - entrenched so deep in her fear of him that to pull the dagger from him was to commit the biggest folly. No, this was her; the predecessor; Tatia. 

      The suddenness of the realisation dampened the urge by a fraction, if only to wrangle some rationality back into his tangled mind. His hand, frozen where it was in its earlier extended position, hovered a hair’s breath away from her skin. The irony of it was not lost upon him, nor did the double implications of this offer. Decision made, the distance was closed, as spidery veins traced the skin beneath his eyes, even as they did not pass from hers. If there was an opportunity to retract her decision, it was proffered silently as her hand was brought to his lips. His nose skimming her palm a moment before his incisors extended to pierce her skin, allowing the warm sweetness flooded his tongue. 

      A vampire’s blood, though fulfilling the purpose like any other, would always carry an unsettling discomfort. Unnatural - intimate - likely more so, in a way that only made sense to those who walked with them. Monster feeding on monster. Him feeding on her. 

       Lips parting, he pulled back from her, releasing her palm gently. No more than half a minute had passed in the time he had fed, but the flush of energy was remarkable. Elijah dipped his head in appreciation for her offer, even as he retreated a step, swivelling to close the lid on the coffin with a resounding thud, allowing his fingers to remain splayed over its ebony surface.

       He had questions, many of which revolved around her appearance and the thin silver hilt of the dagger she still withheld; all of which he contemplated in the remaining time. Allowing his back to rest against the wooden frame, his hands disappeared into his suit pockets, returning her a gift in exchange. An answer, if she wished to take it. 

                              “You must have many questions.” 

[ohmygandy]

[perennialiniquity]

tag dump.