god doesn't love you

mother knows what you need. father gives it to you.

[unpossession]

That is, if you haven’t already. There’s that sick feeling in her stomach again. Nothing matters. Everyone she aches for now may one day repulse her, or leave her, or decide they just need a break from her dramatics. She wouldn’t even blame them. She’s sick of herself sometimes.

She thinks about the inevitable drift a little too long. The distance.

It’s already happening. Willow knows. She’s too perceptive, too analytical, too much of an over thinker to remain oblivious to it. Or maybe it’s just the unmedicated OCD. She’s been thinking about going back on her medication for that. She’s also been thinking about leaving the country without a word. Cutting all ties and making them all miss her. She really should get back on her meds.

“Do you two love each other?” Willow asks. She feels small and stupid. Wishes her question had some venom to it, but she’s unfortunately earnest in her ask. “Are you in love?”

[sacredterrors]

Language falls short. Love is such a small, trite word. Cheap. Chintzy. Teddy bears and Hallmark cards, red roses and wedding dresses, a quaint human pastime. To call their centuries together love feels laughable and alienating; it misses the mark. 

But Valentina cannot describe this to the younger ones—least of all Willow, who seems to measure everything by human language and emotion, at least as she currently understands them. As the children age, they will come to see the intricacies of this existence, the way certain concepts—certain words—fail, lose their meaning and merit. 

But for the purposes of this conversation, love, she supposes, is the closest word they have. She laughs, nods, shrugs.

          “Yes. We love each other very much.”

[pissbataille]

Gabriellla & Lestat de Lioncourt

THE VAMPIRE LESTAT

[unpossession]

"Maybe I will when I see him next." Willow knows he had his doubts about whether he'd be seeing her again -- and by all means she should stay away, but there is a stubbornness to Willow that finds itself digging its heels on this point.

On the one hand, she should never want to see either of them again. On the other, she wants a great deal more from them than their absence. Answers, for one; she was in such distress that day that she doesn't even remember if the experiment was a success. She also wants to prove the both of them wrong.

Maybe, though, she is just a masochist.

"Or the both of you. I've only ever seen you together in my dreams."

[sacredterrors]

          “We have our own lives, separate from one another,”          Valentina says.          “But we come together often.”

Time apart is necessary, especially with their surplus of time itself. Some decades they don’t speak at all, only to join up again later as if it’s only been a few days. Lately, though, they’ve been seeing a lot of each other—so much of each other, in fact, that Valentina half-expects to knock on Lazarus’ door one day and find the estate completely empty. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again; it’s simply a matter of timing, however long he can bear the chains of attachment.

          “The older you get, the less necessary it will be to see your peers so frequently. You have all the time in the world. You’ll get sick of each other. That is, if you haven’t already,”          she laughs.

[seasonofhorror]

Don't play coy with me, Princess.

[voguefashion]

Nicole Kidman photographed by Mark Seliger, Newport Pagnell, England, 1996.

[bludrite]

i haven't gotten any such impulse with you. his pride takes a hit. one that shows on his face...

..."like a slapped arse" comes to mind. something his uncle used to say. crestfallen would be a better descriptor, a taste of rejection for the man who has never cared enough about much else to have faced the feeling more than a handful of times.

she doesn't want him. at least not as he is, not yet. hugo doesn't know how not to take that a little personally.

valentina continues on with her reasoning - and he does listen, he does. he just can't get the melody of her distance out of his head. he needs to prove himself in some unknowable and cosmic way, or perhaps show a vulnerability he swears even to himself he does not possess.

he's never felt like such a disappointment.

"i can only imagine a goalpost with legs." he says bluntly. the anger is not in his voice, nor in the air. just a stale trace of entitlement being wrung out of him. "what about me isn't fully formed enough for you?"

[sacredterrors]

          “I’m not sure.”          Valentina speaks slowly, staring at him from across the table.          “Maybe it’s everything.”

She takes a sip of her drink, smiles at him. It’s difficult to articulate these things to human beings, especially the young and arrogant. But her opacity is, in a way, rewarded: his dissatisfaction, however diluted, has a wonderful scent—dry wine, a hint of berry, dark roast coffee.

          “I asked Lazarus to turn me over and over. I begged for it. It was embarrassing; I never beg for anything, not then and not now. And you know what? He denied me every single time, without fail and without falter, for five years. It was the most excruciating five years of my life, especially during the times he was gone, and I wasn’t sure if he’d ever come back, if I lost my chance… And then one day—just before I was to be executed, actually—he agreed. I didn’t know why then and I still don’t know why now. It wasn’t impulsive, either, the way Zero does it; he didn’t turn me because I was going to die anyway—he’d known, and denied me, every single day of my incarceration, my trial, all of it. But afterward he told me it’s because something in me had made itself known to him. No further explanation. Now, I’m not telling you this to bore you with ancient history—I just want you to know that I understand where you’re coming from, and I’m not doing this to toy with you.” 

[unpossession]

"They're things that happened to me while I was dead but they happen here instead. After Lazarus used his trick on me I started to have dreams where he was the orchestrator, you were the audience. He'd force Hawk to do all sorts of things to me. Things I wouldn't even have thought up if they hadn't already happened to me. You sit there, watching, conferring -- the children need to learn their lesson -- directing Lazarus to direct Hawk into doing the next horrible thing, and the next..."

Willow is being too vague for her own liking. The horrible things are the dream. Lazarus, Valentina, Hawk - they only feature because of the impression Lazarus made on her. She wants to draw focus to the acts, but the disgust she feels for herself trips her up every time.

That and the fear that speaking it will make it real. She looks away from Valentina, swallowing back the confessions. Maybe that's why nobody listens -- she can never bring herself to actually say anything.

"When Lazarus forced me to think about the worst thing that ever happened to me, I remember him thinking of you. He kissed my hand. I remember that, too. Why did he do that?"

[sacredterrors]

The dream doesn’t sound all that different from what does happen behind closed doors—though of course Valentina leaves her daughters out of such business. Something truly extreme would have to happen for her to even consider putting Willow in such a position, especially after all she’s been through; Hell, she imagines, was punishment enough for her faults.

          “Oh, don’t ask me why Lazarus does the things he does—I couldn’t tell you. Maybe he was reminded of something. We’ve led a long life,”          she says, waving her hand dismissively.         “We’re often on each other’s minds anyway. If you really want to know what he was thinking, you’ll have to ask him.” 

And good luck getting a straight answer, she does not add. No need to discourage the poor girl when she’s already so down. Of course, Valentina doubts Willow is all that inclined to seek him out any time soon anyway. Clearly he has taken on the symbology of The Enemy in her mind. 

[straytheskies]

[kaizsche]

BEN BARNES as PRINCE CASPIAN THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: PRINCE CASPIAN (2008)

[divineandmajesticinone]

VAMPIRE HUNTER D: BLOODLUST (2000) dir. Yoshiaki Kawajiri

[unpossession]

Willow doesn't know what she expected. She had hoped Valentina would listen to her a bit more, humour her want to process it all. Part of her had thought - or perhaps hoped - that Valentina would swiftly take up this opportunity to hold her hand and talk with her about it - bond. She laughs, realising what a foolish idea that was.

When Willow was a teenager her mother would clutch her suffocatingly close to her chest and say 'you are my only, I love you so so so much, I would kill myself if anything happened to you, you must be so, so careful' until Willow's sense of self became so small that she would go limp in the embrace.

Her mother would always stress what a safe place she was meant to be, how guilty she felt for Willow's first years of life, but if Willow ever needed anything at all... Have better dreams. Pour me a glass of wine. Don't let it disturb you.

It's not fair to compare them. Valentina is not anything close to a mother. She's just some woman spending her time pretending that she matters to people that mostly despise her.

Blissfully blank are Willow's features. Peaceful as she finally looks Valentina in the eye. Catatonic smile on her face. I'm so stupid, I'm so stupid, I'm just a foolish, foolish girl. Nothing I say means anything at all - so she might as well say it.

"They're horrible dreams but I'm not disturbed by them. I just wanted to talk about it with somebody. Nobody ever listens."

[sacredterrors]

          “Oh, I see. Well, forgive me, dear, I’m so used to Hawk’s histrionics.”          She laughs airily, unperturbed.          “He’s been in such a mood about the whole thing; when you started going on about it I assumed it would be more of the same. If you want to talk about your dreams, go right ahead. I’m listening.”

How peculiar that Willow would choose her to be the audience. It must be true, then, that nobody else is listening—but that’s peculiar, too. It doesn’t make sense that even Hawk would turn away from her when, as far as Valentina can tell, all they do is commiserate. Still notably odd—though admittedly less so—that Zephyr would ignore her as well. Even beyond her lover-siblings, doesn’t she have friends? Especially if she’s undisturbed, devoid of fuss, what does it matter that she wants to talk about her dreams to someone? 

Perhaps it will be made clear when Valentina actually hears them. Perhaps several things will be made clear: she’s quite good at analyzing dreams; they are her specialty, after all.

[my-beautiful-wickedness]

Day Five [Oct. 30.] witches + chaos/mayhem/destruction

Lady Claudia Hoffman's wind spell - Snow White: A Tale of Terror (1997)

[unpossession]

“The little alchemy test. Yes.” Willow sighs. She’s thankful she doesn’t have to give her a recap of events, though she is curious to know Hawk’s side of things. Willow is still scared to bring it up to him; he’s already been traumatised by the next thing, asking him about any of it would be to dwell on it. She’s sure he’d rather she do her lingering alone.

“In my dreams about you, you’re there for it. Some things I went through in Hell merge with that experience. Hawk, him, you. You’re all there. It starts out the same way. With the commands.” Her voice loses its softness. Willow reverts to the steady monotone of somebody removed from their body. “It felt so strange. Has he ever done it to you?”

[sacredterrors]

          “Yes, of course he has.”          Valentina laughs, then sighs, shaking her head.          “Not recently, but he has. It isn’t always pleasant, I’ll give you that. I’m sure it was especially jarring for you, but really, darling, you can’t let these things disturb you so much. Drink mugwort tea with lavender and chamomile; try to have better dreams.” 

After hearing the full story, she is of the same opinion as Lazarus: it was nothing. Children who don’t know any better throwing a fit in tandem. Hawk and Willow feed off each other’s misery; it’s the basis of their entire relationship, and when faced with something uncomfortable together they descend into dual hysteria—which was surely heightened this time with the added context of Willow’s post-Hell stress. Emotions got out of hand. Apparently they are still somewhat out of hand.

At least the experiment was successful. Lazarus was pleased to tell her that, if nothing else.

[sacredterrors]

well, we had a good run, but my theme code here has started to break, and the creator has paywalled all their works last i checked. anybody know of any FREE themes or makers who design their pages with a similar vibe to the one ive got now?

[unpossession]

"That's a relief," Willow says, though she doesn't feel relieved at all - in fact, this might make her feel worse. It means everything is coming from her. "You're always on my mind, a little bit. Everybody is..."

She pulls her sleeves over her knuckles, crosses one leg over the other, smooths her skirt down. Small voice in her head tells her she shouldn't even be entertaining a conversation with Valentina, but the small voice is stifled down by Willow's agitation. A need to confront all the ugliness around her.

"Especially since I last saw Lazarus, though. I keep wondering if you would have let him do what he did to me if you were there. If you even know what he did at all."

[sacredterrors]

          “I heard about the little alchemy test, if that’s what you’re referring to—but if something has happened since, I’m in the dark.” 

She doubts anything has happened since. Lazarus doesn’t always deem it necessary to share his business, but if something more happened between him and Willow, Hawk would surely hear about it and speak his mind. He certainly had a lot to say after the alchemy session. After his tantrum, she’d gone to Lazarus to hear his side of the story; she never takes the children at their word. Lazarus was so annoyed to revisit the scenario that he almost refused to speak with her about it at all. It was nothing, truly nothing, he’d said, weary just to hear their names. I hope you aren’t exceptionally attached to this brood. I don’t anticipate their survival. 

Valentina has her doubts, too. All the same, when they implode in on themselves like stars, she will mourn as a mother does.

[unpossession]

@sacredterrors

"I keep having the most horrible dreams about you." Willow finds it hard to look in Valentina's direction. Since her last visit with Lazarus, she's tried very hard not to speak with either of them.

[sacredterrors]

          “How odd! I haven’t been sending you any,”         Valentina laughs. Her eyes sparkle with curiosity.        “Have I been on your mind for some reason, dear?”

[bludrite]

"the opportunities that kind of time would afford me are undeniable. the kind of music i could produce, the influence i could have -- time is a very limited resource, but with an abundance of it who knows what i could make?" forthcoming indeed. "strength, power - also very tempting factors..."

he sips his own drink, skirting around a memory he prefers not to recollect. ...i think you want immortality just to wear her down. i think you want to take her somewhere where nobody can stop you.

"--i'm a father now, too, and she's a very special girl. i'm not sure what the lifespan of something like her is - but i'd very much like to be there for her as long as possible."

[sacredterrors]

She smiles and sips her drink, studying Hugo closely as he makes his case. His reasoning is exactly as vain as she’d anticipated. In fact it seems that not much has changed at all, save for the addition of an otherworldly daughter he wants to “be there for.” There is no new wisdom to speak of; the melodrama with Willow didn’t provide him with any grand revelations, at least not as far as immortality is concerned. It only strengthened his resolve by solidifying his fear.

How did Lazarus know she was ready? All these years—these centuries—and she’s never once asked him. She always feared his answer would be unsatisfactory. Anticlimactic. It’s something she likes to ruminate on by herself, an eternal mystery she can chew on, meditate on. It’s important to have something like that, she thinks. A stand-in for faith in the echo chamber of eternity. 

Valentina glances out the window, admiring the city below. 

          “You know, dear,”          she finally says,          “I’ve turned so many since I came to be the way I am, under many circumstances. The ones you know of mine were made impulsively, on whims that, for better or worse, felt necessary at the time. I haven’t gotten any such impulse with you. I don’t know why that is, but I know to trust my intuition. On paper, you’re a wonderful candidate; there’s no reason for me to deny you, should I ever be in the mood to have another son. But every time you speak with me, I keep getting the sense that you’re not ready. There is something inside of you that calls to me, certainly, but it’s… not fully formed. I only ever get glimpses. Before you can be transformed in this way, there is another transformation that needs to take place. It’s hard to put into words. I don’t imagine you understand what I’m getting at.”