#cognacandchess

[thatslayer]

An Unexpected Journey || Elijah & Faith

@cognacandchess

                 It's harder and easier than she thought it would be. Harder to get to. She had to move a fucking boulder to get into this hidey-hole, for starters. Burrowed into a rock face, halfway down a cliff, between sky and horrible ocean. Easier in that somewhere along the way, Faith didn't exactly lose hope that she'd make it out of this alive so much as she ran out of steam and can't quite care anymore.

She's been there, before. Youth, though, and one solid friend were enough to reignite the want to live but she's tired and old - for a Slayer, at least. And, somehow, this seems less like a last-ditch attempt to save the world and so continue living in it and more like an epic final chapter to a dark and scary life. Faith's done and she's sure Wesley knew that when he handed this job to her.

       A vampire who can't be killed, who can't be corrupted. A noble vampire, entombed with a dagger in it's heart. Pull out the dagger, he saves the world. Somehow, Wesley failed to correct Faith's assumption that she was shimmying down a fucking cliff on the dark side of the world to replay her debt to Angel. He also failed to mention something a little more important, now that a rain-drenched and angry Faith is standing in that elaborately decorated hidey-hole... which one of these coffins has the 'noble' one in it?

                        Bull. Shit.

      Faith's got them open, which was no easy task, but nothing about the desiccated bodies tells her which of them is going to play nice and which she'll have to toss out into the drink. She ruled out the skinny guy pretty early. Even in a comatose state, he's got that bitchy imp thing going on all over his face and the last thing she needs is a smart ass. The next to be ruled out was harder. To say Faith's a sucker for blonde hair and pretty eyes is an understatement, and something tells her that if she wakes the girl up all hell's gonna break loose and this is no time to let her libido do the decision making.

             The one she settles on isn't just a product of the others being ruled out. Dumbly enough, he reminds her of somebody she trusts and, since she's got to go on something, "Here goes nothing..." she reaches for the dagger, "Better not make me regret this."

[bekahxsweetheart-blog]

bored

@cognacandchess

The ritual of making tea had taken up a small, too small, chunk of her time. Heating water, measuring tea leaves, cutting lemons, making up the tray. Elijah would appreciate it, she hoped. If not, then there was always the maid, the poor girl was looking a little pale though, she’d remind her to take some supplements. In case.

Carrying the heavy tray was easy for her, as was finding Elijah. When she did, Rebekah slid the tray onto the table before him. “I made tea.” She sat down and watched him, liking the scents of the tea and the old books in the library and the scent that was pure Elijah. All smells that made her happy. 

She sat down to make her own cup of tea and smiled across at him. Sitting back, Rebekah sipped her tea. “I made tea because I’m bored. Do something with me. Besides drink tea, which is delicious, by the way.”

[bekahxsweetheart-blog]

cognacandchess replied to your post: Starter call!

shhhhhh come here and let Elijah dote on his little sister

She says there must be cuddling at some point.

[thatslayer]

The Big Easy || Elijah & Faith

@cognacandchess

                           Faith's a little out of place in New Orleans. A city bubbling over with vampires, never had a Slayer. Not for long, at least. She's not here to do any major clean up, though, there are other things on her mind.

            It's broad daylight, not her favorite time of day but the tried and true safest. Sun glowing a yellow wash on grey marble and stone. Monuments to the dead, tall enough to make the alleys in between seem narrower than they are. Sort of a Wall Street for the pushing up daisies crowd. Faith's slowly walking those avenues, hands pushed into her pockets. Reading off name after name in search of the one she's looking for.

                                         She's nearing a mausoleum with some sort of ritual basin crap in front of it when she pauses and folds her arms beneath her chest but doesn't turn around, "You best come on out, Creepy. Not exactly stealthy."

[camillethebrave]

Cami points out that Elijah’s suit isn’t as polished as she’s used to.

Elijah (subtly) points out all the sex he’s been having.

[elenamgilbert]

Until the Levee Breaks // Elena & Elijah

@cognacandchess

The next several weeks are grueling.  When Elena accepted Elijah's offer, she supposes she should have known the sanctity of it.  He is brilliant if not somewhat mad, but she hangs on his every word.  She finds that, the timbre of his voice, the command of his hand and eyes (which scrutinize her in a manner that borders on intimate) haunts her long after his presence recedes.  Elena knows she's in deep, knows that he could ask anything of--anything at all--and she would certainly manifest his most outlandish request.  Still, if he is an aggravation of heart and body, he is even more so to the susceptible intrigue of her mind.

He is tough but fair.  He challenges her, holds her accountable.  He is everything she needs and more, but he makes her earn what knowledge he has to offer.  

There are days where she wants to scream, to ball her hands into fists and pound against his chest in a rage.  There are other days still where she wants to cower, to draw back from his logic and demands to submit to the easy promise of defeat.  He never allows it, though.  When she strains against his questioning, his technique, his tutelage, he doesn't let up until she's crawling back - if only on her knees, bare and skinned.  By the skin of her teeth, she pulls herself up until she's steady again.

That's where they are today, the sleeves of her lab coat rolled hurriedly up, her hair a mess in an afterthought of a ponytail.  It's been hours; he's been relentless.  There's a concept she just can't grasp, and she's about ready to throw in the towel.  They dance around one another in what can only be described as a luxurious, predatory waltz.  He corners her, insistent that she knows more than she will allow herself to convey.

"I need a break," she maintains, the tension in her jaw visible as she expels a heavy sigh through her nose.  It is a total cop-out.  She knows he's unlikely to take it standing, but she's frustrated, a little pissed off, and maybe something else she doesn't want to talk about.  It's that, and she's exhausted.  He's ruthless (but it works for him); and Elena isn’t exactly accustomed to having a mentor who simultaneously believes in her abilities just as much as he challenges them.