#dearestmothervampire

[deaur]

@dearest-mother-vampire if you thought you and Ati were spared from this, you were wrong

[deaur]

plsplspls compare Ati (5'2") and Villen (and if you wanna, you can throw in Ladislav for humor's sake cuz that fucker is apparently 6'8") ((dearest-mother-vampire))

height comparison meme

@dearest-mother-vampire @abharsair

i’m crying

[deaur]

@dearest-mother-vampire​ | continued from here

He lets out a disproportionately gleeful chuckle at the Elder’s tepid and half-hearted response. “You could tell me about what kinds of smallclothes were in vogue among the vampire elite and I would still be on the edge of my seat,” Villen answers. Truly, he does not care what she’s talking about as long as she is talking. She is a rather curious enigma, being a higher vampire and an exceptionally powerful and well-respected one at that, but whether she will crack under his deliberately mischevious prodding or not remains to be seen.

Her comment about the moon has him nodding solemnly in spite of the lopsided smirk on his face. “Not terribly impressive, true. I have always been a fan of the Sun myself,” he adds, plucking a single grape off the fruit tray at his side and promptly throwing it between his lips, savoring the fresh burst of sweetness.

“Fair?” the dragon asks, then, with an air of affected offense.“You would have me tell you stories without a lovely glass of wine in hand and call that fair? How appalling a concept.” Rising from his seat, he walks over to the wine cabinet where he spends a positively minuscule amount of time picking a bottle after all the fuss he made over having something to drink. Perhaps simply drinking for the sake of it is more important than what the drink in question is.

“Now,” Villen continues, now busying himself with opening the bottle, momentarily catching his tongue between his teeth. “Does her ladyship enjoy wine or are special considerations of advanced age to be taken into account?”

[deaur]

hear me out @abharsair @dearest-mother-vampire

[deaur]

@dearest-mother-vampire​ | continued from here

Drawing her had been a pleasure-- the process itself rewarding enough in how it kept him captive while observing her features closely and attempting to transfer both her grace and fierceness on paper. Yet for all its delight, it could not even compare to seeing her reaction in person. Villen smiled at her surprise and dumbfoundedness. He stood by her side in silence, allowing her the time and space to process what she was seeing, taking in every little expression and movement, drinking in her astonishment. 

His golden, honeyed gaze was greedy in the way it pinned the vampire and when she looked up to him, his smile widened ever so slightly. He licked his lips and said, “You have already fulfilled and exceeded any expectations you imagine there might be in the way of repaying this small gift.” His words were slow and deliberate, voice warm and low. “Your smile is the most precious offering, my lady, and I understand now why you do not bestow it upon the whole world.”

He reached out for both of her elbows, cupping them gently-- nothing more than a feathery touch. As if testing how much she’d be willing to allow him, his fingers traveled upwards, along her forearms, resting over her hands. “It is a treasure worth guarding,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “Worthy of hushed, covert worship like all things great and terrible.” Deft fingers caught her chin as he spoke; tracing her jawline, her neck, her shoulders, contours made soft with age in this form of hers, though no less fetching.

Villen’s own skin blazed with warmth and when he pressed a single hand against the small of her back, he knew she would feel it through the fabric of her dress as if he had touched bare skin. For a moment, it looked like he was going to catch her lips in a kiss, yet he stopped, content only to look at her from as close as her gaze would allow it. He found her bewitching, enthralling, difficult to look away from. For now, he merely wished to commit her visage to memory lest age or distance steal it away from him as it had stolen so many other faces before.

“Would you be terribly opposed,” he whispered, now brushing a stay strand of grey hair away from her face, one hand still resting on her waist, “if I asked to draw you again... wearing less, this time?”