the streets of volterra had changed little. sure, there were some modern amenities placed for the human's comforts. but the closer that one got to the castle, to the darkness of it all… the less modernity he could see. the castle had changed little on the inside, and yet every footstep he took down its stone corridors felt different, heavier, as if the walls themselves remembered the things that he tried to forget. aro had insisted i greet julian early on. he doesn't get many visitors, you know. aro's tone had been polite, even warm, but there had been something unmistakable in it: you owe him your deference. as if that wasn't already carved into every cell of carlisle's being. julian. the name alone stirred something primal beneath the cultivated calm that arranged itself on his features. a mask, of course. carlisle had met many, many different beings in his time. monsters cloaked in civility, tyrants with velvet tongues. but he was different. older than ambition, perhaps older than fear itself. and somehow, despite centuries of practice, carlisle found himself standing before his door like the boy who once fled blood and fire, searching desperately for a gentler way.
carlisle does not knock. he doesn't have to. surely, julian knows he's here. ❝ julian, ❞ he said, voice soft. his name catching in the back of his throat like something too sharp to swallow. ❝ i brought you a gift. ❞ it was a small box, wrapped in golden paper. it wasn't much, not when someone had anything they could ever ask for. but it was a token sign of respect. / @papalwrought ( ♡ )