@kingvolturi / semi-plotted starter
𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃. he, himself, had lost the right to the title centuries ago. aro, now more a threat than anything, was still a mystery to the doctor ——— could there truly be peace, or was he waiting for the moment carlisle stepped out of place ? but, old wounds aside, & fresh ones forgotten for the time, he extended the olive branch to the master. a hunt. together. seldom did he think aro would join him in his meal; the gift was the company, a chance at a quiet moment, without family rifling through aro’s head, or breathing down the other’s neck for a chance to strike, should he err. his family was young, still so young.
❝ ——— you haven’t seen me feed for some time, ❞ comes meager conversation, carlisle merely meandering about the property. it would be a rare moment to share in solitude, he would not forsake that. for as long as he could have aro to himself without threat from either side of their kin, he would take it. openly.
a pause. smile graces his lips, ere he lowers chin, looking upon his own clothing. feeding from mortalkind was no doubt messy; but wrestling wild beasts into the forest floor was also so. he would not dare to ruin perfectly good clothing for a meal, thus, even in the winter, he wore only athletic clothes, stained from the efforts of previous hunts.
❝ forgive me. it isn’t a fair sight. ❞