#gevaudansbeast

[proklyatyy-blog]

{ gevaudansbeast }

         "It is blood for blood, Bette."

[dinosaursaresocool]

gevaudansbeast:

but who will bake the baby brebs and curse with the little old amish ladies

no one

[proklyatyy-blog]

( alpha ):

Bette was no lightweight.

It took more than mere alcohol to put her out of commission.

            There was an unsteadiness to the world that she had become familiar with in her youth. Her limbs curled in as though to protect her soft organs from the harshness of it all. Shallow breathing brought on by the feelings of complete and utter helplessness, and piercing humanity. She lay, curled and shaking, pressed against the wall for what little steadiness it offered. The wolfsbane still worked its way through her blood, sluggish as a half-frozen stream in the depths of winter.

            A body shifted next to her, a broad hand warm on her bare hip where she shivered beneath the quilt. She couldn’t even shy away from the touch, only quiver where she lay. She thought she heard a voice explaining what had happened, that she had been drugged and that the voice’s owner had brought her somewhere to sleep it off in peace, but it had the feel of a fever dream. Ali was near incoherent, the voice making no sense because it wasn’t even speaking French why wasn’t he speaking French when that was the only language she understood—

            And then the fingers on her hip dug in, almost painfully, bringing her out of the near-panicked haze into a passing semblance of coherency. Lips framed by beard brushed against her temple, words murmured soothingly low in a language she couldn’t understand. The bed shifted, the weight disappeared, and Ali felt the loss of that comforting presence with a pang in her chest. There was nothing for it, though, but to lay in her semi-conscious state and wait for the return of the man who smelled like cigarettes and grave dirt. The one with the voice like gravel that cut through the haze clouding in her mind.

        Grigori had been the one to witness the goings on of the previous night, as hazy as the experience was for himself, he would surmise that he remembered more than Bette. It had been a group of them, of which he had stayed decisively away from, whom had slipped the silvery hissing liquid into his friend's drink. At first, Grigori had thought nothing of it, not coherent enough or close enough to glean danger from the situation, but as the night wore on, and Bette became more and more sluggish, the old Russian had put two and two together fast. Wether they were vindictive members of her kind, or hunters, he had yet to figure out.

        There had been something of a scrap -- and she, in all her raw power, had staved off the group of would-be attackers (even in such a state!). He'd led her away as soon as he could, though, under the cover of the crowd. As her ability to walk deteriorated, he quickened their pace towards the safety of a house. They'd taken the side streets, he'd even managed to carry her the final block or two to his own home -- as large as she was, she became even larger as a deadweight.

        He gave her claim of the bed, and she slept like a pup.         It was only the morning when Grigori tested the waters, climbing in next to her to dutifully inspect her various wounds and bruises -- some of which had already begun the would-be slow process of healing. Her groaning had heightened when he left her side to fetch rubbing alcohol and a towel - the thought of which made Grigori's heart leap unexpectedly. To be needed was incredibly important, you see --

        He returned quickly, already speaking to soothe as he climbed back into bed. "Do not move so much, Bette. It is not bad; the affect is from the poison, mostly, as I told you. This may sting, but it is a necessity-" Before the final flourish on 'but' he began to trace the largest gash with the corner of a tower soaked in alcohol. The wound may heal, but if an infection were to exist beneath the magicked skin, it would be difficult to treat.

[proklyatyy-blog]

♔~

SEND ME ♔ IF YOU WANT A HEADCANON ABOUT OUR MUSES RELATIONSHIP

♔ | I feel like it’s sort of a silently agreed upon rule that if Bette appears tense, Grigori gives her a massage without prompting. It could very much be the Alpha/Beta thing they have going on, but it also has a lot to do with Grigori’s constant desire to feel needed. If he relaxes her, pulling satisfied groans form her with kneading fingers, he will be content with his position.

[proklyatyy-blog]

▣

SEND ME A ▣ AND MY CHARACTER WILL TELL YOU THE LAST THING THEY’D SAY BEFORE HAVING TO KILL YOURS

Blessed silver singed flesh and wolfish hair where it had entered, and the smell of gunpowder hovered, boorish, over an equally still form. Sprawled indecorously across grass that must have been torn up by youthful, uncaring paws at some point; Bette was not so quick to gasp for shallow breaths. He approached and saw how defiant, faraway, eyes were turned skyward, as she the beast attempted to hide the contortion of pain and the knowledge of imminent death. This was her home, and now her grave.He gazed down at… the creature, outfitted hand falling at his side with not only the weight from the pistol, but the unwelcome earthy ivy of guilt.         “See— I can be a beast too.” 

No emotion welled up his eyes;

        “You were a fool to put your trust in me.”

No empathy drooped his shoulders;

        “And now look at you — “

Away with weakness and the past;Forget.. forget.         “You were never my… friend.”           He spat, pause as telling as it           was pathetic.                                                                                                ”Never—-“ 

[proklyatyy-blog]

♤

NON SEXUAL ACTS OF INTIMACY MEME

♤: Taking a bath together

Late afternoon had turned to night in a frenzy, but that feeling passed Bette and Grigori by without so much as a restless twitch. They were very much content; very much warm -- the chill of late summer nights could not touch them here, submerged in a hot spring on the apparent edge of civilization.Heat bubbled, lazily coiling up into the air and out of sight. She sat against him in a rare, lingering moment of intimacy, the coarseness of skin becoming silk in the waters. She was pressed so easily into his chest that any ignorant onlooker would think her to be his rosy lover, but here, Grigori was less the dominant figure, more of an armchair than anything else. That did not bother him so much.So at ease was he, in fact, that his eyes remained closed, and his body still and malleable, even as her fingers reached up to idly curl 'round the damp hairs of his beard. There they would stay until sunrise.And what a cruel sunrise.

[proklyatyy-blog]

✾

Put ✾ and I will generate a number to find out how your muse will find mine - NSFW/SEXUAL SPECIAL.

4 | my muse in nothing but a towel

It had been an achingly tiresome day, summer harvest day to be exact; longer than any other. The early september heat had stained his brow and shoulders a reddish hue that shone now, slick with lingering perspiration. All matter of grit and mud was caught up in the matted hair of arms, legs, and chest; he looked like some junkyard hound, stripped completely of his mess of clothing. Grigori held a towel loosely around his hips as he made his way around the back of his home towards the hot water spout;the sun was sinking, a thankful sliver on the horizon. The Russian allowed his towel to droop in the apparent privacy of his own property; it revealed more tender, ivory flesh that did not often see sun, but what did he care —-Privacy apparently was not sacred, nor werethe typical formalities of house calls, because there, swinging lazily from his gutter was theenigmatic beast herself, Bette …        “—- you’ve caught me at an odd time.”

[proklyatyy-blog]

gevaudansbeast:

Ali’s spine stiffened in one slow moment, her lip curling with barely contained anger.

            “Do not,” she spat, “Presume to be so familiar. If you put your hand on me again without my express permission I will remove your entire arm for the offense.”

"Bette."

His voice was cool in response to the fire in her own, unnaturally so.

        "I need you to teach me something ---"