#drusllas

[wickedlehane]

@drusllas gets an Angel & Faith: Daddy Issues inspired starter

Fa​ith was sick and tired of the weight of her heart.

It had been a long time she’d been learning to listen to her heart, to understand her feelings. She’d learned a lot from Angel, who knew the value of a soul differently than someone who had always had one, no matter how damaged hers had gotten along the way. She’d never lost it, even if her path seemed dark and dire. In fact, it had been ignoring her feelings that set her down that bad path in the first place- telling the world she didn’t care about killing a man when, in fact, all she did was care. She cared, and she was so afraid she would never be loved again- not that she was much loved before then.

And then her dad, Pat Lehane, walked back into her life. Sober, sure, but Faith was ‘sober’ on killing people these days too. Didn’t mean she hadn’t, and it didn’t mean she still couldn’t. And not reeking of alcohol didn’t mean a damn thing if he was still sick- a liar, a criminal, a deadbeat to the very core.

He’d called her such nasty things, and usually she wouldn’t care. She’d heard every swear from A to F (a lot of Bs and Cs for her, particularly) from men she’d slept with, friends she’d fought with. But none of them stung as much as coming from her father, who she’d always wanted to care- who she had been told, from a young age, was supposed to love her. Because if he didn’t, then was he really a father?

The Slayer knew Angel had a different relationship with his children- those like Connor and those like Drusilla. A father, a sire, the person to point the blame at for bringing you into this world. It was complex. And he’d had over 200 years of the confusion. How did he manage it all? She had no idea, but she didn’t exactly have the luxury of several centuries to figure it out. Faith felt sick to her stomach and wanted the pain gone. Now. Fast.

“I know you’re here, Drusilla,” Faith called out as she crossed the threshold of a dilapidated building, seemingly empty but somehow there was life in the shadows. It had been transformed into an altar of sorts- not a true church, that wasn’t the vampire’s style. But ever since Angel had caught wind of her in London, they’d been tracking her. She was different. Had a terrifying sense of clarity about her. And Faith wasn’t exactly suicidal, but she was confused, feeling lost and depressed, wanting more than anything to erase the shame of falling for her father’s lies yet again. After all this time.

“I just wanna talk- heard you were doin’ full sentences now.”

[pryceism]

Drusilla | @drusllas​ VERSE COMMENCEMENT: DOWN TO THE ROOTS ROTTING YOUR SOUL (ATS S5 DIVERGENCE)

          Helplessness. It’s a sensation that Wesley hadn’t felt in some time, the man explicitly aware of the life pouring out of him ( regrettably all too familiar ) with each second that ensued within Drusilla’s vicelike grasp. The team at Wolfram & Hart had caught wind of the vampire’s re-emergence in LA after years of relative silence, but it had been a little too late such was her tendency for escalation - the bout hadn’t lasted long, the brunet ultimately unprepared for the altercation given her sudden appearance, an underlying vendetta against Angel spurring her actions. Then again, it had always been difficult for the former Watcher to pinpoint her exact motivations, the brunette’s actions over the years somewhat erratic and lacking a clear means of logic that Wesley was altogether more comfortable with. There was an underlying fear which accompanied the pain, a rapid feebleness, and then---

                    Bruised knuckles and bloodied fingernails claw at the paltry excuse of the wooden shell encasing the corpse, self-preservation overcoming the splintered shards which tear through flesh from prolonged impact, dragging himself through soil heavily ladened upon his person. The earth feels wonderfully warm to the seeking touch ( comforting ), the chill which had traversed across the once mortal man’s lifeless body deeply setting into blue and stagnant veins. It’s with a heave that pallid features resurface from the ground, clumped particles falling away from the shifting form, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as a disoriented line of vision lifts towards the night sky to be greeted by the shadow of an all too familiar sinister figure patiently waiting for him. There’s a new sense of vigour that brings about an overbearing restlessness ( unhinged ), ready to fully experience and partake in a newfound desire of chaos which pervasively grips him. Wesley was reborn.

[perfectanguish]

AMERICAN GODS SENTENCE STARTERS.

@drusllas​ asked: ❝ ten thousand deaths made right here. ❞ (for angelus)

              Keeping his eyes forward, he gave a small nod to show he was listening. After a moment his eyes moved to rest on the crazed woman’s face, “Soon that vision will become real, Drusilla. And it’ll stretch out as far as the eye can see,” he mused, eyes drifting from the young vampire to pass over a few faces of those that dared to walk in the dark as they did. “They will speak of every death for years to come.”

[perfectanguish]

AMERICAN GODS SENTENCE STARTERS.

@drusllas​ asked: ❝ the truth is not what people want to hear. ❞ (for angel)

            Angel would never be able to forgive himself for what he did to her. It was beyond cruel and vile of the extreme measures he had taken in driving the poor girl insane. His viciousness was something he had trouble swallowing, but didn’t shy away from. And though he wished he could, in this moment he couldn’t as Drusilla stood before him, a physical reminder.

“We’re not like most people, Dru,” the sire whispered as he watched her closely. “Now tell me why Spike and you are here.” 

[lycanlead-a]

drusllas replied to your post: you know what’s scarier than vampire teeth? lycan...

puppy teeth

big pupper teeth

@drusllas

[lordofthestrix]

’ But you’ve got more demons than The Exorcist. ’

Obscurity permeated the coldness of his gaze at her comment. Tristan cared very little for regrets. The constant, tedious grieving for past sins was a common affliction among the lower members of the species. Those unfitted for immortality all too often wallowed in remorseful, never-ending anguish. It was nothing less than pathetic.But there were…Rare exceptions. A short number of specific instances that couldn’t be recalled without summoning their lament if only to honor and acknowledge the mistakes committed.The reference to exorcisms was oblique. Imperfect. Her words had an skillful way to often leave him pondering how much was metaphor, how much was literal and how much was expressed with any meaning whatsoever. Whatever the case might be the unexpected mention struck a chord. And so he made an effort not to show it. “You flatter me beyond reason. Specially taking into account your own congregation.” He masqueraded under an exchange of pleasantries. He didn’t have the perceptive, potentially intrusive benefit of her sight. But there was no reason not to indulge his curiosity and request a background check after meeting such a picturesque figure as Drusilla. “All those mortal hours seeking to find God. And yet they never wavered away from you. Never betrayed nor abandoned you, did they? Never stopped whispering. You are far more popular with demons than I could ever hope to be, my dear.”

@drusllas