An Heir to Blood

Blueblood Werewolf OC RP / Ask Blog by Salem | 18+ | asks / starters open  

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

themagiciansarcana‌:

His frowned as Beau uncharacteristically stammered, as fairly violent shivers wracked his body. Vampires didn’t–but Beau was a young vampire, freshly turned. He paled a bit. How freshly turned?

Revelin rested his hand on the knee of Beau’s uninjured leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. He altered Beau’s clothing with magic, the material becoming softer, cleaner, repaired in gentle waves from where Revelin touched him. Magic unwove and then rewove the material so Revelin could see the extent of Beau’s injury more clearly without irritating it.

After climbing to his feet, Revelin placed a firm hand on Beau’s shoulder, then urged him to lay down on the plush, soft couch. A pillow moved from an arm chair to slip beneath Beau’s head. Another two slipped beneath his ankles as Revelin elevated his feet. With an outstretched hand, a cabinet in the bathroom opened and shut, its contents summoned by Revelin’s will into his grasp.

Even a freshly turned vampire was still a vampire. 

“I can hunt for you come morning,” he said, voice soft and fond as always, “but this will have to do for now.” As he opened the no-mag medical kit he summoned, he explained, “My accelerated healing should be able to keep pace with your hunger. I don’t think you can really hurt me if we do it this way.” He tied a rubber strip around his arm below the elbow and flexed his hand until the veins of his forearm rose. “We don’t have many options right now,” he apologized. 

Revelin took a breath before he pierced his vein a syringe. He tried to be as quick as possible but he hated this process. Ever since he turned, he couldn’t stand foreign objects in his body, and an IV had to stay in his vein. He pulled the plunger of the syringe to draw his blood, then awkwardly removed the needle before changing the attachment. He pinched the tube that slowly darkened with his blood, then taped it securely against his skin. Instead of connecting to a bag, the tube dangled freely, and Revelin extended it towards Beau. “You need to feed. I’ll clean and bandage your leg while you do.”

Again, Beau followed Revelin’s urging, laying down on the couch. But when he saw what Revelin had summoned to his hand, he paled. “N-no, no, I can’t take f-from you, Rev, I–what if I–”

Then the scent of blood–Revelin’s blood–hit his nose, and he felt his fangs descend again. It smelled so good…far more appetizing than the small animals he’d subsisted on since leaving New York. “Merde…” He whimpered and pressed a hand over his mouth, ignoring the pinprick pain where his fangs pierced his palm. “…I c-can’t, Rev. I haven’t–n-not from a person–not since I was turned. And it’s not–It’s not j-just hunger, and it’s not just my l-leg that needs healing. I can’t. I could–” drain you.

He could drain Revelin, and he couldn’t come back from that. He couldn’t risk murdering his werewolf–the love of his life–in hunger and thirst. He wouldn’t be able to stand it if he did.

But Revelin’s blood smelled so delicious…

[themagiciansarcana]

Beau’s sudden spike in fear permeated the den, made heavy with the warmth of the fire. It was acrid, laced with this new scent that was ethereal and uncomfortable. Revelin hadn’t smelled Beau’s fear often; Beau had always been so sure of himself. He had worked alongside the Director of Magical Security back at MACUSA for a reason, after all. And fear didn’t suit Beau. At all. Revelin deeply disliked it.

“You won’t drain me,” he said, a smile curling the corner of his lip. Humans knew so little of the world they shared. Werewolves, vampires, selkies and countless others were often persecuted, ostracized, hunted. Revelin was one of the lucky few whose family and wealth protected him from such injustice. Now Beau was one of his, and while he never wished such a thing upon him, it wasn’t a death sentence. “You might be hungry enough to try, but you won’t drain me.”

He sat on the edge of the large couch, then slipped the kinked tube into Beau’s hand. With his free hand, he cupped Beau’s face and stroked his cheek. Beau’s speech was slurred by his fangs. For them to descend on their own, Beau must have been close to starving.

*Not from a person. Not since I turned.*

Beau’s shame and pain and terror landed Revelin’s aching heart. “Let me help you heal. We can figure out the rest once you’ve regained your strength, alright? Use this to feed for now. Please. The IV will temper how much and how quickly you can take, and if, by some chance I do grow weak, I’ll stop you.” He leaned forward and kissed Beau’s brow. “Please trust me for now.”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

themagiciansarcana‌:

As Beau leaned into him, Revelin ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll take us home, then,” he offered. He held him a bit tighter as his magic pulled him hard by the navel until the dark forest around them swirled into nothingness, and then bled into the warm den of Revelin’s estate house.

Charmed and remodeled as it was, a fire blazed to life in the hearth, and from the nearby couch, a charmed blanket fluttered out of its neat folds to, instead, wrap around Beau’s shoulders. “Here.” It supported Beau’s weight with Revelin’s magic as Revelin helped Beau sit on the couch. He knelt beside Beau’s injured leg, brow furrowed in concentration. Now that he knew this was Beau, and that Beau was a vampire, it was easy to make sense of the myriad of unfamiliar smells. It was a new combination, but beneath it all, he smelled the beginnings of infection.

“You’re a vampire,” he commented, clear discomfort woven through the timbre of his rough voice. “I’m–I’m worried I’ll only hurt you further if I try to heal this with magic. Would it be alright if I dulled the pain and treated it the no-mag way?”

Because he doesn’t want Beau to hurt any more than he does. 

“When did you last feed? It should help you heal naturally, as well.”

Beau wasn’t cold–really, he’d barely felt the chill out in the forest, despite being able to see his breath–but as soon as the charmed blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he realized he was shivering. Shock. He had to be in shock. So much had happened, and he’d just kept running until now. He hadn’t given himself time to absorb it, and now that he’d finally stopped running, it had all caught up with him.

And he was in shock.

“Y-yeah, I’m–” He nearly choked on the words, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders. “G-go ahead. T-treat it how you th-think would be best.”

When had he last fed? When was the last time he’d caught a vole or a hare or some other small bit of wildlife and lessened the thirst that constantly burned at his throat?

“I…I d-don’t remember. B-before I entered your t-territ-t-tory, I think. I-I’ve lost track of the d-days…”

[themagiciansarcana]

His frowned as Beau uncharacteristically stammered, as fairly violent shivers wracked his body. Vampires didn’t–but Beau was a young vampire, freshly turned. He paled a bit. How freshly turned?

Revelin rested his hand on the knee of Beau’s uninjured leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. He altered Beau’s clothing with magic, the material becoming softer, cleaner, repaired in gentle waves from where Revelin touched him. Magic unwove and then rewove the material so Revelin could see the extend of Beau’s injury more clearly without irritating it.

After climbing to his feet, Revelin placed a firm hand on Beau’s shoulder, then urged him to lay down on the plush, soft couch. A pillow moved from an arm chair to slip beneath Beau’s head. Another two slipped beneath his ankles as Revelin elevated his feet. With an outstretched hand, a cabinet in the bathroom opened and shut, its contents summoned by Revelin’s will into his grasp.

Even a freshly turned vampire was still a vampire. 

“I can hunt for you come morning,” he said, voice soft and fond as always, “but this will have to do for now.” As he opened the no-mag medical kit he summoned, he explained, “My accelerated healing should be able to keep pace with your hunger. I don’t think you can really hurt me if we do it this way.” He tied a rubber strip around his arm below the elbow and flexed his hand until the veins of his forearm rose. “We don’t have many options right now,” he apologized. 

Revelin took a breath before he pierced his vein a syringe. He tried to be as quick as possible but he hated this process. Ever since he turned, he couldn’t stand foreign objects in his body, and an IV had to stay in his vein. He pulled the plunger of the syringe to draw his blood, then awkwardly removed the needle before changing the attachment. He pinched the tube that slowly darkened with his blood, then taped it securely against his skin. Instead of connecting to a bag, the tube dangled freely, and Revelin extended it towards Beau. “You need to feed. I’ll clean and bandage your leg while you do.”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

themagiciansarcana‌:

The sound of Beau’s struggle pierced through Revelin’s joy. He was no less happy or excited to have his mate back, but Beau was–hurt. Yes, that was pain and blood and – Beau was the vampire and Beau was hurt and Beau –

Revelin didn’t let the wolf’s reason stampede over his own. Short and choppy but no less effective, Revelin realized what the wolf did and disappeared into the dark a short distance away.

His bones cracked and ground together as he forced himself to abandon pelt and paw to walk upright. The night was chilled enough to see breath were there light by which to see, and it was much colder now that he stood naked in the dark. As a werewolf, he was a little more impervious to the weather than a human, but he wasn’t completely immune. Thankfully, he wasn’t just a werewolf.

He was a wizard.

With a wave of his hand, Revelin summoned cloth to swirl around his body until it encased him in warm clothes. His boots crunched through the frost forming on the ground as he returned to Beau. Above his open palm hovered a muted light – for both his werewolf eyes and Beau’s vampire eyes.

“Beauxhomme?” he said quietly, a note of disbelief still evident in his voice. But there was no mistaking his relief and happiness when he laid eyes upon him again. “You’re hurt,” he murmured a moment later, quickly closing the distance between them. He knelt beside Beau’s injured leg, using the light to inspect the damage. “I didn’t realize how severe this was. I couldn’t–” He paused. “You don’t smell the same, so I didn’t recognize…“ He climbed to his feet a moment later. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” That Beau had turned. That Beau was even looking for him. That Beau was as hurt as he was.

He could only imagine what happened after he left.

The light broke away from Revelin’s hand as he took a half step closer, arms slipping around Beau’s waist to gently urge him to lean against him. “I have a house,” he explained quietly, regret fresh and foreign in his voice. “How are you reacting to magic? Can I apparate you there?”

Beau swayed a little, favouring his leg, as Revelin released his sleeve and disappeared into the darkness.

Watching as a hovering light appeared, followed by the now-human form of his werewolf, Beau hazarded a shaky smile. “Revelin.” His voice was quiet, creaking from lack of use in the past…weeks? Months? How long had it been?

It had to have only been weeks…right? Had he really lost track of time so easily?

“It’s…it’s okay, Rev. It’s not your fault,” he murmured, then huffed a quiet, rueful laugh. “You smell different to me, too. Can’t really blame you for not recognizing me.” He wondered idly what Revelin would think when he saw the other wounds peppering his skin. Beau could almost count the days using the burns as tally marks. Though there were some days he’d managed to completely hide from the sun, and others when he’d been burned in more than one place.

He followed Revelin’s urging, leaning against him, taking the pressure off of his injured leg–but he forced himself to turn his face away from Revelin instead of nuzzling into his throat as he would have in the past. He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing control. Not when he was so hungry, so weakened.

“I apparated to get out of New York,” he answered softly. “I still have my magic.”

[themagiciansarcana]

As Beau leaned into him, Revelin ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll take us home, then,” he offered. He held him a bit tighter as his magic pulled him hard by the navel until the dark forest around them swirled into nothingness, and then bled into the warm den of Revelin’s estate house.

Charmed and remodeled as it was, a fire blazed to life in the hearth, and from the nearby couch, a charmed blanket fluttered out of its neat folds to, instead, wrap around Beau’s shoulders. “Here.” It supported Beau’s weight with Revelin’s magic as Revelin helped Beau sit on the couch. He knelt beside Beau’s injured leg, brow furrowed in concentration. Now that he knew this was Beau, and that Beau was a vampire, it was easy to make sense of the myriad of unfamiliar smells. It was a new combination, but beneath it all, he smelled the beginnings of infection.

“You’re a vampire,” he commented, clear discomfort woven through the timbre of his rough voice. “I’m–I’m worried I’ll only hurt you further if I try to heal this with magic. Would it be alright if I dulled the pain and treated it the no-mag way?”

Because he doesn’t want Beau to hurt any more than he does. 

“When did you last feed? It should help you heal naturally, as well.”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

themagiciansarcana‌:

He was mid-air when he realized what he’d done. Still, just as powerful as the instinct to attack was the instinct to submit. He hit the vampire hard enough for the pair of them to tumble to the ground, or maybe the blood in the air heralded enough of an injury for the vampire to be unable to withstand his mass.

Pounce.

Growl.

His name.

Revelin whined. His ears stayed flat against his skull but for an entirely different reason as his whines pitched into happy little yips and cries. The wolf – not even Revelin himself – knew this was his mate. Instantly. The moment there was enough of what was mate and pack to overcome what was vampire and fear, he knew. He lapped Beau’s face with his warm, pink tongue, tail wagging hard enough for his hips to sway. 

Because he and the wolf shared in their authentic joy, Revelin struggled to wrangle down his instincts enough to actually allow Beau space to breathe, to speak more than his name. The animal was so excited, so relieved, so ecstatic. Fearsome, powerful jaws mouthed gently at Beau’s clawed hand as Revelin inched off of him on clumsy, tippy-tapping paws until he could safely grab his sleeve. There, he bit and tugged, urging Beau up, urging Beau to follow.

Safe. Home. Mate. Home.

Enculer, it really was Revelin.

He’d found him. He’d finally found him.

As his werewolf inched his way so excitedly off his chest–no doubt there would be bruises over his aching ribs, but those at least would heal much quicker than the burns that dotted his form like constellations–Beau struggled to tamp down further on his own instincts. With the fear and panic receding–and the scent of another living creature’s blood so very close–his pain and hunger surfaced stronger than before. But he couldn’t drink from Revelin. He couldn’t. He couldn’t attack him after having only just found him.

He could never attack his wolf.

Beau groaned, rolling to his feet. With leftover adrenaline still flowing in his veins, his injured leg did hold his weight–if only just enough for him to limp after Revelin.

[themagiciansarcana]

The sound of Beau’s struggle pierced through Revelin’s joy. He was no less happy or excited to have his mate back, but Beau was–hurt. Yes, that was pain and blood and – Beau was the vampire and Beau was hurt and Beau –

Revelin didn’t let the wolf’s reason stampede over his own. Short and choppy but no less effective, Revelin realized what the wolf did and disappeared into the dark a short distance away.

His bones cracked and ground together as he forced himself to abandon pelt and paw to walk upright. The night was chilled enough to see breath were there light by which to see, and it was much colder now that he stood naked in the dark. As a werewolf, he was a little more impervious to the weather than a human, but he wasn’t completely immune. Thankfully, he wasn’t just a werewolf.

He was a wizard.

With a wave of his hand, Revelin summoned cloth to swirl around his body until it encased him in warm clothes. His boots crunched through the frost forming on the ground as he returned to Beau. Above his open palm hovered a muted light – for both his werewolf eyes and Beau’s vampire eyes.

“Beaxhomme?” he said quietly, a note of disbelief still evident in his voice. But there was no mistaking his relief and happiness when he laid eyes upon him again. “You’re hurt,” he murmured a moment later, quickly closing the distance between them. He knelt beside Beau’s injured leg, using the light to inspect the damage. “I didn’t realize how severe this was. I couldn’t–” He paused. “You don’t smell the same, so I didn’t recognize…“ He climbed to his feet a moment later. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” That Beau had turned. That Beau was even looking for him. That Beau was as hurt as he was.

He could only imagine what happened after he left.

The light broke away from Revelin’s hand as he took a half step closer, arms slipping around Beau’s waist to gently urge him to lean against him. “I have a house,” he explained quietly, regret fresh and foreign in his voice. “How are you reacting to magic? Can I apparate you there?”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

themagiciansarcana‌:

Claws. Pointed viper-like fangs. Crimson eyes.

Vampire.

But it didn’t smell like a vampire, and that’s what baffled Revelin the most. Few creatures that walked the earth could reflect crimson light with their gaze, especially when threatened, but the vampire was among them. Despite how dangerous this frightened vampire was, Revelin knew himself to be more dangerous. 

He wasn’t just a werewolf. He was a wizard. 

So why…? Was it–was this vampire freshly turned? And how many of his neighbors had it fed on in its wanderings? How long had it been intruding on his territory?

His ears flattened against his skull. 

Revelin’s sense diluted, then drowned completely in the wolf’s instincts. He didn’t have much out in the furthest reaches, but what was his was his. There was nothing anyone or anything could do to take it from him. 

Lip curled, he growled, barking viciously as each one crescendoed. He crept closer, step by careful step, each paw intentionally placed along the traitorous ground. Then, abruptly silenced himself, but crept closer still.

He lunged with a vicious bark, teeth bared, eyes bright and deadly.

And then it hit him–

He knew this fear. This fear was familiar.

Beau caught the other’s scent before he saw them, before he heard them. It was still so confusing to be able to smell things like he could in his animagus form when he wasn’t in that form. And this scent was so familiar.

Then he heard the barking, saw the lupine silhouette. Werewolf.

His instincts went wild. In his weakened, panicked state, werewolf meant enemy. Werewolf meant danger. Werewolf meant death. He snarled, pushing himself further to his feet, balancing his weight on his uninjured leg as much as he could.

The werewolf lunged, and Beau braced himself for impact.

He’d fight.

He’d fight even though he knew he wouldn’t survive this.

The werewolf collided with him, and his legs gave out beneath him again. He hit the ground hard, growling and raising a clawed hand to swipe at his foe’s muzzle–

–But he never followed through, his hand falling to the ground beside his head.

He knew the wolf pinning him to the loam. He recognized that pelt, even in the dark. Knew the timbre of its growl. He couldn’t fight back, even if it meant the wolf killed him.

“R-Revelin?”

[themagiciansarcana]

He was mid-air when he realized what he’d done. Still, just as powerful as the instinct to attack was the instinct to submit. He hit the vampire hard enough for the pair of them to tumble to the ground, or maybe the blood in the air heralded enough of an injury for the vampire to be unable to withstand his mass.

Pounce.

Growl.

His name.

Revelin whined. His ears stayed flat against his skull but for an entirely different reason as his whines pitched into happy little yips and cries. The wolf – not even Revelin himself – knew this was his mate. Instantly. The moment there was enough of what was mate and pack to overcome what was vampire and fear, he knew. He lapped Beau’s face with his warm, pink tongue, tail wagging hard enough for his hips to sway. 

Because he and the wolf shared in their authentic joy, Revelin struggled to wrangle down his instincts enough to actually allow Beau space to breathe, to speak more than his name. The animal was so excited, so relieved, so ecstatic. Fearsome, powerful jaws mouthed gently at Beau’s clawed hand as Revelin inched off of him on clumsy, tippy-tapping paws until he could safely grab his sleeve. There, he bit and tugged, urging Beau up, urging Beau to follow.

Safe. Home. Mate. Home.

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

themagiciansarcana‌:

That curiosity got the better of him, and he followed the new scent on the wind. Tail high and ears perked, he closed his eyes and raised himself on his toes to catch the barest traces of it through the night. It was only once he’d gotten an idea of its source did he open his glowing eyes and break into a run.

His pads were quiet on the soft underbrush, but felt heavy with his gallop, his breath loud in his own sensitive ears. But even over his own thunderous gait, he could hear whatever he tracked crashing through the woods. It sounded human, even if it didn’t smell like one. He slowed once he grew closer, an anxious sort of trot instead of a sprint. The scent lead him deep into the forest of his territory, deeper than any human had dared – Revelin knew; he could smell where human trails faded. 

Trot became prowl as he closed the distance between he and the new scent’s source. Because there was a new element to the scent – that otherworldly note of magic, of not-human. Not entirely, anyway. 

The trees were thick and unforgiving here, some growing so close that Revelin had to squeeze through their trunks or walk widely around a cluster to continue on his path. The canopy blocked out the faint light of the moon and stars. Revelin only knew his way because this was his home, his territory; even his sight was impacted. For certain, what tracked wasn’t human. No human would ever be able to overcome their fear of the unknown or their own physical disadvantages to wander so far before turning back. The fear of this creature was different, though, because it was something edging panic, as if their very survival hinged on it.

So when he came upon the meager clearing – and really, it was just a far more shallowly compacted mass of trees – he stopped. He didn’t hide his presence, but he didn’t particularly announce it either. Should he need to escape whatever threat this newcomer posed, he knew he could bleed back into the shadows of the dark wood. Should he be found, he knew he could defend himself. He suggested his presence with a flash of his werewolf eyes in the dark like a rattler’s tail – I’m here. I see you. I’ll attack if you make me.

Beau no longer ran. The danger he could sense within this strange, new territory impelled him to, but the terrain prevented it. He couldn’t run. He might be physically stronger than a human now, and able to withstand more damage, but even he wouldn’t survive running blindly when the trees–thick, with wide trunks, older even than any he’d seen before–crowded so close. He would bash his skull in, trying to avoid them and no doubt failing horribly, should he attempt to run in so tight a space.

So he walked. Crept. Slunk.

Stumbled.

Failure to hide himself entirely from the sunlight the day before had left him limping, his ankle and the lower part of his calf red, raw, and blistered–such wounds healed so very slowly, slower even than a burn would heal on a human–and a raised root at the edge of a small clearing was an easy obstacle to be caught by. It sent him tumbling to the loamy ground, and he hadn’t the wherewithal to push himself to his feet again.

His luck had absolutely run out. He was sure of it.

Perhaps the trees were close enough together that their boughs would block the sunlight from him entirely once the dawn came, but he truly doubted it. And he would burn.

A flash of something amber in the underbrush caught his attention, startled him up, but his injured leg wouldn’t hold his weight, and he fell once more. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, causing his barely-beating heart to speed to mirror some pathetic approximation of the panic he felt.

This was the source of the danger he’d felt nearing since entering the forest.

Eyes glowing crimson and fangs descending, he pushed himself to his hands and knees, claws digging into the soft ground, snarling and growling low in an attempt to appear more feral and dangerous himself. If he was to die here, better he go out fighting than simply give in, as he’d been ready to do only moments before.

[themagiciansarcana]

Claws. Pointed viper-like fangs. Crimson eyes.

Vampire.

But it didn’t smell like a vampire, and that’s what baffled Revelin the most. Few creatures that walked the earth could reflect crimson light with their gaze, especially when threatened, but the vampire was among them. Despite how dangerous this frightened vampire was, Revelin knew himself to be more dangerous. 

He wasn’t just a werewolf. He was a wizard. 

So why…? Was it–was this vampire freshly turned? And how many of his neighbors had it fed on in its wanderings? How long had it been intruding on his territory?

His ears flattened against his skull. 

Revelin’s sense diluted, then drowned completely in the wolf’s instincts. He didn’t have much out in the furthest reaches, but what was his was his. There was nothing anyone or anything could do to take it from him. 

Lip curled, he growled, barking viciously as each one crescendoed. He crept closer, step by careful step, each paw intentionally placed along the traitorous ground. Then, abruptly silenced himself, but crept closer still.

He lunged with a vicious bark, teeth bared, eyes bright and deadly.

And then it hit him–

He knew this fear. This fear was familiar.

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

themagiciansarcana‌:

Revelin typically didn’t run. He may have been peaceful by nature, but like all the men his family, violence ran deep and thick in his blood. It had saved his hide more than once throughout his life. However, when he and Beauxhomme Lafayette had been assigned as an escort team to one of the more powerful vampires in Europe, Revelin knew it would be a fight he simply wouldn’t risk; there would be more than just his own life at stake. Every time he looked at Beau – every kiss, every touch – reminded him of it. He didn’t know what Grindelwald was planning, but he knew he couldn’t be there when he acted.

And he all but begged Beau to go with him.

He couldn’t stay, and he couldn’t bear to go, but Beau didn’t want to leave, and Revelin absolutely had to. So he did. Jarrett would take care of the rest, he supposed.

There are still small towns removed from the rest of society. Hamlets and villages with insulated economies and self-sufficient citizens. They don’t typically respond warmly to outsiders, but Revelin has always had a certain charm about him – wizard’s magic aside, even. He found one where he could pay handsomely for an available estate, a home to make his own in this area. He warded it and the surrounding area, and out of some instinct he still couldn’t deny, shifted each night to patrol the village, the forest.

He’d trek for miles as a wolf to learn the area and its inhabitants. Within a few weeks, he grew confident in his understanding of things. He recognized the patterns and rhythms of this new place, and he learned to follow those paths.

So when a new scent floated on the wind, Revelin took notice. It was heartbreakingly familiar, but just wrong enough to remind him that he was half a world away from what he’d abandoned. Still, he was curious. This was his home now – his *territory*. What, or who, would stumble into it smelling so distressed?

If he stopped to think about it, Beau could easily argue that the meager amount of information he’d gotten from Jarrett hadn’t been wort the price he’d paid for it. Of course, Revelin hadn’t actually told his brother where he was going, but the elder Drake sibling’s presumption was little more than a direction to start off in, coupled with a snarky “good luck”.

Good luck.

That was a commodity Beau seemed to be running short on, lately.

Surely he’d used the last of what little luck he’d had left in leaving New York with his head still securely attached to his shoulders.

He’d lost track of how long he’d been searching for Revelin. Traveling at night, hiding–not always entirely successfully, as the burns marring his flesh would attest–from the sunlight, avoiding human settlements as best he could, trying to stave off his growing thirst with what small wildlife he came across…Time became almost meaningless. A blur of running and stopping only to hide for the sunlit hours before continuing on.

And now he found himself somewhere entirely unfamiliar. His instincts blared, warning him of danger far more imminent than even the rising of the sun–but where from or how close it was, he couldn’t tell. He wasn’t yet entirely attuned to the newly enhanced acuteness of his senses. Not even enough to determine that much.

Yet, beneath the fear and distress and unfamiliarity, there was something strangely familiar in the scent that suffused this new territory he’d entered. Something he felt he ought to recognize, but he just…couldn’t.

Whatever it was–so familiar, but still so strange–within that scent, it made his heart ache.

[themagiciansarcana]

That curiosity got the better of him, and he followed the new scent on the wind. Tail high and ears perked, he closed his eyes and raised himself on his toes to catch the barest traces of it through the night. It was only once he’d gotten an idea of its source did he open his glowing eyes and break into a run.

His pads were quiet on the soft underbrush, but felt heavy with his gallop, his breath loud in his own sensitive ears. But even over his own thunderous gait, he could hear whatever he tracked crashing through the woods. It sounded human, even if it didn’t smell like one. He slowed once he grew closer, an anxious sort of trot instead of a sprint. The scent lead him deep into the forest of his territory, deeper than any human had dared – Revelin knew; he could smell where human trails faded. 

Trot became prowl as he closed the distance between he and the new scent’s source. Because there was a new element to the scent – that otherworldly note of magic, of not-human. Not entirely, anyway. 

The trees were thick and unforgiving here, some growing so close that Revelin had to squeeze through their trunks or walk widely around a cluster to continue on his path. The canopy blocked out the faint light of the moon and stars. Revelin only knew his way because this was his home, his territory; even his sight was impacted. For certain, what tracked wasn’t human. No human would ever be able to overcome their fear of the unknown or their own physical disadvantages to wander so far before turning back. The fear of this creature was different, though, because it was something edging panic, as if their very survival hinged on it.

So when he came upon the meager clearing – and really, it was just a far more shallowly compacted mass of trees – he stopped. He didn’t hide his presence, but he didn’t particularly announce it either. Should he need to escape whatever threat this newcomer posed, he knew he could bleed back into the shadows of the dark wood. Should he be found, he knew he could defend himself. He suggested his presence with a flash of his werewolf eyes in the dark like a rattler’s tail – I’m here. I see you. I’ll attack if you make me.

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

Children of the Moon

@themagiciansarcana

His memories of the past few weeks were blurry at best and nonsensical or completely absent at worst. After being assigned to ‘escort’ Gellert Grindelwald while he was in New York–an assignment that was only slightly logical for him to perform, given his role as liaison–things became hazy and confusing. Disjointed.

Beau wasn’t the sort to have one-night stands, so why did one of his clearer memories seem to be allowing the German wizard to seduce him?

He didn’t understand it.

There was a lot he didn’t understand about what little he could remember.

But there was one thing he could say was absolutely clear to him: He’d been turned. Grindelwald had made him a vampire.

Sunlight burned his flesh. His senses were as keen as–if not keener than–they had ever been in his canine animagus form. His physical abilities had far surpassed anything humanly possible. And the smell of blood–once abhorrent and sickening to him–was now the sweetest perfume.

He hated it.

It terrified him.

Dieu miséricordieux, he was pretty sure he had already drained some poor sap during his first hours in this state, and he had no idea what he would do when the thirst for more blood hit him. How long would he be able to hold out before going on a rampage?

He couldn’t go to Percival for help. Not this time. If Grindelwald had turned Beau with the intention of using him as leverage, the man was sorely mistaken. Beau was a threat now, and the Director of Magical Security wouldn’t hesitate to kill him in order to protect others.

Beau didn’t think he would want Percival to spare him if he endangered anyone else.

No, he couldn’t go to Percival. And Revelin…

Enculer, he should have gone with Revelin when his werewolf had asked him to. He had no idea where to even start looking for Revelin. It had been months since he’d left.

Jarrett would know where Revelin had gone. If anyone would know, it was his brother.

Of course, Jarrett wouldn’t give Beau that information without a price. He wanted information in return. Information Beau would never have given him were he not desperate and in dire need. He had no other choice.

And now he found himself fleeing the city he’d come to think of as his second home, in search of the one person he never should have allowed to leave without him.

[themagiciansarcana]

Revelin typically didn’t run. He may have been peaceful by nature, but like all the men his family, violence ran deep and thick in his blood. It had saved his hide more than once throughout his life. However, when he and Beauxhomme Lafayette had been assigned as an escort team to one of the more powerful vampires in Europe, Revelin knew it would be a fight he simply wouldn’t risk; there would be more than just his own life at stake. Every time he looked at Beau – every kiss, every touch – reminded him of it. He didn’t know what Grindelwald was planning, but he knew he couldn’t be there when he acted.

And he all but begged Beau to go with him.

He couldn’t stay, and he couldn’t bear to go, but Beau didn’t want to leave, and Revelin absolutely had to. So he did. Jarrett would take care of the rest, he supposed.

There are still small towns removed from the rest of society. Hamlets and villages with insulated economies and self-sufficient citizens. They don’t typically respond warmly to outsiders, but Revelin has always had a certain charm about him – wizard’s magic aside, even. He found one where he could pay handsomely for an available estate, a home to make his own in this area. He warded it and the surrounding area, and out of some instinct he still couldn’t deny, shifted each night to patrol the village, the forest.

He’d trek for miles as a wolf to learn the area and its inhabitants. Within a few weeks, he grew confident in his understanding of things. He recognized the patterns and rhythms of this new place, and he learned to follow those paths.

So when a new scent floated on the wind, Revelin took notice. It was heartbreakingly familiar, but just wrong enough to remind him that he was half a world away from what he’d abandoned. Still, he was curious. This was his home now – his *territory*. What, or who, would stumble into it smelling so distressed?

[revelindrake]

"Merlin, Revelin," Liza muttered, kneeling next to the battered man. She ran her hands over the ropes holding him before drawing her wand to sever them. "What happened? Can you stand? We should get you to the hospital."

[revelindrake]

((because tumblr is stupid??))

Revelin’s chest heaved, eyes wide as they stared at nothing. When Liza channeled her magic, he recoiled, all but throwing himself back against the tree to which he was tied. Revelin snarled, baring extended fangs, and his eyes glowed gold like fireflies in the night. But Liza’s tone, her scent–neither of them were threatening to his wolf, despite its fear. His eyes fluttered as he sucked a ragged breath, then all but slumped against Liza once she cut his bindings.

He couldn’t recall much of the last…however long. The last thing he remembered was leaving MACUSA after a particularly grueling shift. He’d planned to meet with his brother, but…hadn’t. Something on the wind had caught his attention and then…nothing.

He groaned softly, nearly a whimper but still more animal than man. After taking a few ragged breaths, he murmured, “How did you find me…?”

[horrificmemes]

Your muse finds mine bloodied, beaten, and tied to a tree in the middle of the woods. They look traumatized and are shivering. Send me your muse’s reaction and they will respond to it.

[k641739021]

[witchesflame-deactivated2018041]

🌙

[ofthelune-deactivated20181207]

thunder and lightning | open

[ofthelune-deactivated20181207]

Newt liked the way Revelin’s hands felt against his skin. They were broad with long fingers, rough and calloused against his softer, scarred skin. And his lips – Revelin’s lips were so warm against the more sensitive skin of his neck. He knew exactly what Revelin was doing – he and the wolf were scenting him, because both man and creature saw him as a potential mate. His heart fluttered a the thought of being seen that way.

Newt wasn’t sure who Revelin had been talking about earlier. Surely no one else saw him the way this man did? Newt didn’t know of anyone else who wanted him the way that the werewolf did. And even if someone did – this man, this sweet, generous, kind, smart man had him – body, heart, and soul – entirely. He didn’t think that he would ever want anyone as desperately as he wanted Revelin Drake. He’d pined after the Auror for months, and no here he was – perched on his lap, making soft little sounds of want.

He found he didn’t really care that someone else wanted him, too. No one else would ever have his heart the way Revelin did. This man loved him and his creatures – something that has never happened before. This man was truly, without a doubt, perfect for him. 

He tilted his head back, a sweet, soft moan leaving his lips as he bared his throat for both man and wolf – a true act of submission.

[revelindrake]

Revelin growled softly, a low rumble from deep in his chest as Newt bared his throat so beautifully for him. With gentle teeth, he marked his fair skin pink with small bites and nips, kisses where he sucked a little harder then absolutely necessarly.

“Newt,” he sighed, nosing beneath his jaw. He smelled of want and lust and need, but also of wildflowers and wind and sunshine; and Revelin wanted to bask in it for the rest of his life. He hissed a quiet curse and clutched Newt tighter, frustrated with the layers that separated them. He wanted to taste every inch if Newt’s flesh, mark him up with his mouth, and absolutely saturate him with his scent until there was no Revelin, there was no Newt; only the mixture of both of them, letting any creature within half a mile know they were a pair.

His heart skipped when he heard Newt’s do the same, dizzy and disoriented from the affect he had on the other man. Eventually, though, he forced a breath into his lungs and willed the beast calm, no matter how Newt’s little sighs and moans nearly frenzied him. He just held Newt then with his face tucked against his throat.

No, he wouldn’t give this up without one hell of a fight.

[amanwithacase-blog]

Something Newt had learned over the years was what creatures were willing to do to protect their potential mates. Newt made it his mission, in that moment, to ensure that a fight never broke out. That the other person who wanted him knew that he belonged to someone now, that the werewolf had him to hold and keep from now until the end of their days.

The magizoologist, breathless, laid his chin against Revelin’s temple as he tried to let his heartbeat come back down from it’s galloping rhythm. It was almost magic, how he got his heartbeat skyrocketing with just a few touches, a few simple kisses – Revelin was warm, and he was sweet, and he was perfect. Newt had no doubts whatsoever that this would become more than just a few kisses in the aftermath of a storm. He was completely and utterly head-over-heels for the man.

“Rev?” He hummed, and moved to pull back just a tad, jewel tone eyes seeking out Revelin’s. “I don’t want anyone else. I’m always going to want you.”

[revelindrake]

The wolf growled softly, and his eyes glowed gently. It was with great reluctance that he pulled away from Newt's throat and the temptation it presented. He was a little dazed, utterly entranced. "If you want me," he said quietly. He dragged his hands along Newt's flanks, noticed how his breath shuttered and his heart raced. Revelin nuzzled noses with Newt and murmured, "You can have me."

Because Newt was so completely enchanting, so wonderfully refreshing, Revelin would accept whatever scraps of attention or affection Newt spared him--even down to the absurd notion of Newt wanting him in return. Despite how Newt smelled of desire and his heartbeat remained steady in his hoensty. "Newt, you can have me."

And fuck did he want Newt in return.

[hacker-codeq]

The idea that Revelin might like his magic too made him grin and bounce a little on the spot like an excited child. He wanted to beg to be control more though he was still wary of pushing it too much and upsetting Revelin. It was nice that someone wanted to protect him but Elliot was mostly used to asshole wanting him who didn’t really care for the long term.

“Yeah. It feels really good for me. Like power running through me… which I guess it technically it.” He giggled. “I love when my curse is being used by someone I trust. Since I can’t get rid of it it makes sense to like it somehow. It was supposed to be a gift.”

He blushed as he tried to figure out what his curse would force him to admit if Revelin gave a vague order. “Well… you can. And I would like that. But I might start rattling off about kinks. Especially pet play because of the whole… wolf thing. And I don’t want to freak you out if I say anything really weird.” The young man admitted, biting his lips hard to resist the urge to rub against the other a little since he could feel Revelin’s arousal.

“You can tell me to do anything you want. I trust you.”

[revelindrake]

With a soft whine, Revelin wrapped his arms around Elliot. "Tell me more of what you like, then," he purred, greedily scenting the younger man as his curse magic sparked to life. Fuck, it made Revelin lightheaded. "Tell me everything you want me to do to you."

He pulled away enough to kiss Elliot slow and filthy, then grabbed him by the backs of the thighs and effortlessly hoisted him up so he could wrap his legs around his waist. He groaned as it brought his hard cock in contact with Elliot's pert ass. "Can I take you into the bedroom?"

[hacker-codeq]

Elliot relaxed against him, thrilled that Revelin didn’t continue to argue over anything that wasn’t going to be changed. He kissed him back hard, breathing in deeply through his nose to drink in that scent that was only Revelin’s and now seemed so prefect to him.

“I want you to make me yours.” He whispered.. but his curse didn’t let him stop there. “I want you to kiss me and bite me and fuck me until all I can think about is you. I wanna play games with you too but maybe not right now. I’m not sure what kind do things you.. like- stupid curse.” He giggled through because the magic felt so good.

[revelindrake]

The spike in Elliot's sweet scent as his curse compelled him to comply sent Revelin's heart racing, his blood thundering in his veins. It was so utterly intoxicating, and the rush felt like adrenaline and the satisfaction of a kill all at once.

"Holy fuck," he groaned, almost helpless as his fangs abruptly descended. He closed his blazing, golden eyes and scraped his fangs lightly over the tender flesh of Elliot's throat, where the wolf wanted to bite and claim the younger man as its mate. "That's your curse? That's your magic? Jesus Christ." He sucked a bruise where he wanted to bite, quelling the need with a different sort of claim. "You can keep going," he rumbled, his voice hedging feral. "I like it. I like knowing what you want, so I can make sure to give it to you."

After taking Elliot by the hips to haul them flush, to let him feel just how much Revelin was effected, he slipped his hands up Elliot's shirt to wander the hills and valleys of his warm skin with his palms. "Do you like it when I trigger your curse like that? You smell goddamn incredible when it goes off. Can I ask you to tell me more?"

[hacker-codeq]

Elliot sighed softly when he was growled at, knowing there was not really anything he could say to change Revelin’s thoughts about his brother. If Elliot was honest with himself he knew there was a tingle of pleasure of the idea of Revelin wanting to protect him but it was easily overshadowed by the knowledge he would be expected to leave one day.

“I want as much as you as I can then.” He whispered and kissed him gently, kissing him again after pulling back a little to be access to his mouth. “I want to be close to you every day. And wake up in your arms for as many mornings as I’m allowed. I want to make the most of this time I’ll have with you.”

[revelindrake]

He sighed in something like defeat. He was well and aware of what it took to mend his own broken heart, but beyond breaking his mother's with the nature of his affliction, Revelin never knowingly hurt someone so deeply. And he knew in the marrow of his bones that he would absolutely wreck Elliot when the time eventually came for them to part.

"Alright," he said between kisses. He took the younger man by the jaw with both hands and *finally* acquiesced to his desires. Revelin traced Elliot's bottom lip with his tongue before gently taking it between his teeth and suckled. He laved into his mouth, wet and thorough and full of longing--trying to make the most of it. But even as he feared the inevitable end of what had hardly began, he knew he wouldn't let Jarrett get to Elliot agai.

Out in the woods, beneath the stars and among the fireflies, the wolf that Revelin became had decided that Elliot was its ward--for better or worse.

"Tell me what you want," he breathed against the pout of his lips.

[hacker-codeq]

Elliot laughed a little at that idea, just because he’d never had any family and would hate for anyone to judge him based on his adoptive siblings.

“Family doesn’t really mean anything to me, Revelin. I’m not going to hate you because your brother hurt me. Now I’ve had some time I can understand that what he did was because he thinks he’s helping you anyway… and I can help you, help you be happier. If you let me.” He pleaded in a whisper.

“I don’t have to leave. Stop saying crap like that before my dumb magic makes me leave. I want to stay here with you. That’s a choice I’m allowed to make so long as you’ll have me on your property.”

[revelindrake]

"Family *does* mean something to me," Revelin growled, "and I can't be good to you or be good *for* you when I'm constantly in fear that Jarrett will find you and hurt you."

He dragged his nose along the edge of Elliot's jaw until he found his thundering pulse. There, he pressed his lips in a soft kiss, then bit him gently; the wolf *wanted*, and Elliot smelled delecitble. "So you'll have to go eventually, but not right now. Not today. Not even next week. But eventually. And you can have me as much or as little as you want until then."

[hacker-codeq]

Elliot’s eyes widened at the idea of having to leave. He had wanted to, at first; he’d wanted to be as far as was physically possible from the place that had caused him so much pain. But Revelin was… different and Elliot couldn’t bring himself to want to leave him.

“I don’t want to go…” he whispered as a shudder ran through from his crown to his toes at the idea of leaving this place and never seeing Revelin again. “That’s not what I want. What I want is for… more.” He whispered, leaning up to press his lips to the man’s. He had intended it to be a brief, seal of confirmation that he wasn’t just saying all of this but now his lips were against Revelin’s his arms moved around the older’s neck naturally and he pressed against hi.

[revelindrake]

Revelin leaned ever so slightly into Elliot’s embrace, swaying forward into the kiss he didn’t even know he needed until it was given to him. The beginnings of a growl rumbled in his throat–pleased, because his wolf was pleased–but it smothered it instead with a very soft, very human moan.

As his eyes slipped shut, it was easy to imagine that he could have this, have *Elliot*, and move forward as if they’d met through something other than mutual suffering. But he couldn’t, and they didn’t, so with great reluctance, Revelin pulled away, though he kept his hands on the younger man’s hips.

“You shouldn’t do this,” he murmured, wrecked and vulnerable. “I’m a werewolf. I’m…a monster. You can find someone better, *human.* Elliot, you can’t want this.”

[hacker-codeq]

Elliot was sad when Revelin didn’t embrace him properly but at least the other didn’t pull away. That might have shattered what was left of his heart after so much misery. It was strange to think that a kidnapping and some pointless torture had led him to this. Part of him was even pleased he’d gone through that to be here now.

“You don’t get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do… not in regards to this.” He whispered, arms around his neck and hands locked together so that there was a limit of how far Revelin could pull away. Elliot needed this touch so badly.

“I’m cursed too. Neither of us can give a normal life. You like me, even as a wolf you like me! You’re not a monster, you’re no threat to me!” He whispers urgently. “You don’t think your wolf liking me so much is a sign? We can make each other’s lives so much better…”

[revelindrake]

He closed his eyes to spare himself the heartbreak of Elliot's expression and sighed softly. "How I feel doesn't matter, don't you see? Nothing will change the blood in my veins and the people it ties me to. I'm a monster, and so is my brother in his own way. He hurt you, Elliot, and you shouldn't be so close to him. With me, you would be, because Jarrett is my *brother.*"

With a hitched breath, Revelin gathered Elliot into his arms properly, tucking his face against his throat to soothe himself with his scent. Yes, he felt for Elliot and his wolf did, too. Yes, he wanted this. But he also knew just how selfish it would be to even try. Elliot hadn't been *wrong* in his declarations, but Elliot had been wrong to think any of it mattered to Revelin if Elliot was in danger.

"You'll have to leave eventually," he murmured against Elliot's pulse. "But I'm yours until you do."