#valentinstjohn

[zayaeze]

"Ai! Vampire man, your friend told me you look younger, I do not see it," Zaya announced, her fingers flicking back some of her braids over her exposed shoulders that seemed to shine with the illuminating flowers that shimmered from the magic of one of the council members. "Have you not fed or did you die old?"

@valentinstjohn

[bellamychevasym]

Broken Things || Valentin&Bellamy

For a few minutes her hands had distinct red lines down them, rope burn from tugging up the large tent alone, the material supported by the surrounding trees. It was muscle memory, from times long since past. It was odd to be reminded of how easy it was, how she simply knew what to do. Even when she'd made the tent, sewing ridiculous amounts of the sun proof fabric together in anticipation of this moment, she had been sure it would not come back to her without mental strain. And yet, with healing hands, she realised it was all still within her.

In truth, the tent, much like many things over the years, had been an excuse to delay this moment. She rationalised she needed the tent, because what if he was angry, it would be dangerous for Merry if he suddenly appeared. She needed the clothes she had sewn for him because how else should he know she had not simply become some silly thoughtless thing out in the world, it would disappoint him even if he was mad if she was so lacking. Less tangibly, she needed to learn to be on her own, or else how was she to know if she truly felt about him as she thought she did and not just because he was caring for her? So many things had allowed Bella to push away breaking the charm she'd made upon her arrival, when she knew, and always had, she was afraid he would not come, not because he couldn't but because he simply didn't care to. Fear of his anger and vengeance had caused her to run, and lingered in her as the weeks had followed the fire, but she knew if he were angry, if he truly wanted her dead, he'd have found her. And so fear of anger shifted to fear of indifference.

She still felt that fear when she'd slipped into the coffin within the tent, her wolves lingering outside so she would not be disturbed with the sun crossing the sky. It had taken most of the night to rise the large tent within the dense Destarin Woods towards Withermore, to set it up with her large coffin, to bury some blood outside the tent deep within the ground so it remained cold and less likely to turn sour and unuseable. Bella had even packed in a small chest some of the garments she'd made for him, as well as attire for herself for the week as she knew arrival on the first evening was unlikely, travelling to Destarin from his estate had taken her days and who was she to know where he lingered now. She'd laid a small mattress next to the standing coffin, piled some books beside it atop the trunk that she had collected over the years when she saw them and thought of him. Maybe it would all be meaningless but now she was ready.

Bella was sure of this as darkness closed around her, the lid of her coffin tightly shutting with a woosh of air, sealed shut. In her heart she felt whatever was to come she was ready for, even if some options were less appealing than others. She thought on the variety of them as she laid there, aware of the time as though she were counting it. Some were pleasant fantasies, while others horrific pains, some were simply dreams as she drifted in and out of consciousness, exhausted but unwilling to rest entirely. These imaginings only stopped when she knew she were only a few minutes from sunrise, aware as her slender cold fingers reached up to the vial at her chest that whatever happened things would be forever changed for her. The prints of her fingers rubbed over the magical glass, tenderly caressing her enchanted blood within.

Clink.

Blood dripped over the pads of her fingers and garment she wore as the near silent snapping of glass occurred between her index digit and thumb. The sensory feeling secondary to the ethereal one within her form. It tightened within her body, that bond that had been made lax by the enchantment, her veins reconnected to themselves and connected to his own, not constricted but held, her shoulders straightening while blood ran down her fingers.

She hoped it woke him, hoped he rushed, all she could do now was wait.

@valentinstjohn

[thebellamybarnesarchive]

⌝ Bella's talons cautiously reached for the dark strands of his hair that fell over his face as he laid in her bed and the young vampire girl sat cross legged and facing him, black silk night gown not nearly as dark as the black ink wells of her eyes that were, presently, perpetually crying as the candles of edelweiss in the space drew out the ever growing demonic blood in her. She didn't necessarily see Valentin as someone who experienced guilt, certainly not for his efforts in achieving his synthesised blood. How was he to foresee this sort of side affect? How was he to foresee them becoming weakened? For Bella, at the very least, she wasn't angry, actually quite the opposite. Valentin could have left, he could have gone outside the towns borders and been fine, and yet he stayed. If anything was proof of his efforts it was the few hours of sleep he allowed himself that took him from his work.

⌝ Hand falling against his legs beneath the sheets of her bed she smiled. "I have a proposition for you," Bellamy told him, her talons running along his thigh, though not quite breaking through the fabric of the sheets. Since their reconciliation, Valentin had made time for her, but with the amount of time, and with all that had happened on Founder's Day intimate moments had been lacking, and certainly Bella wasn't in the mood as ichor ran down her cheeks. "We take a trip to one of the labs outside Opulence," she suggested. "I have some business to work on, you are getting behind, and I miss the old days." The days when they could grab strangers off the street and finish their meals, an outlook that with how hungry both were certainly was becoming harder and harder to resist.

⌝ "I want to feel strong enough to dance with you, and I want to not feel guilty doing so is consuming your work," she insisted because Bella had tried since Founder's Day to on draw him to her when it was time to rest, to allow him to focus for as long as his body would allow him. She was selfish. She wanted more. "Would you want to?" All the while, more black blood ran down her face, hitting her jawline and landing on her chest, a few droplets there.

@valentin-stjohn

[zayaeze]

Tutoring || Valentin&Zaya

"I know you are dead," Zaya asserted to the gentlemen who had stepped into the establishment, not an ounce of her was given to delicacy. Perhaps an endearing trait, and perhaps not. It did mean she wasn't overly hard to read, no doubt the man could tell she was studying him, bold brown eyes taking in certain aspects of his physicality, the way he presented himself, and other hints at his habits. She picked up on a few things, or she believed she did. He smoked, she could smell it on his clothes. He did not smile much or even frown, she could tell because despite the aged nature of his skin it did not have many creases to it. He was well to do, she could tell by his clothing. To know he was dead though...that was all his aura, how close it sat to his skin, not much to gift it volume. "I have things for the dead."

Though surrounded by flowers, implication being that was probably what he had come in for, Zaya instead moved to grab a small bottle with parchment stuck to it's exterior, hand written label in a language not of the continent. He probably wouldn't have been able to smell it over the flowers within the establishment, for someone of heightened senses the whole place probably smelt a positive mess of scents. But to a vampire one smell could easily supersede the rest and when Zaya opened the lid to check how fresh it was blood was obviously within the container.

It was not human blood however. Not even close. For an alchemist with the nose of a vampire perhaps he could have been able to tell what sort of blood it was quickly. Octopi blood. "Won't make you younger but should help prevent all that nasty hard dry skin you get when you don't eat for too long, such ugliness," she insisted.

@valentinstjohn

[bellamychevasym]

One is Taken || Valentin&Bellamy

Silk, the dark wolf of soft fur, strode in time with the couple, taking her place by Valentin's side. She had shoved her way there, moving the gnome out of her way with a stern gaze and a baring of fangs, though Bella assumed the gnome had actually taken some silent indication from Valentin to allow the wolf to be by his side and had not actually conceded to the beast. Her sister lacked the same structured stride and instead lapped the couple relentlessly, attempting to speed them up, excited to return to the docks and perhaps hunt for whatever rats or water goblins might be scurrying about. Silk was less inclined, enjoying hunting larger game on Valentin's estate, cockatrices and deer often wandered into the gardens and were easy but powerful prey.

Bella smiled as she observed the wolf wandering beside the man. He was, she knew, not generally liked by many, but as a girl whose only friends in her youth were monsters in the woods it was endearing to see at least one had warmed to the older vampire as she had. It made sense to her, so much of Valentin was very calming and reassuring, it was as easy for her to lay by his side for hours in silence, as most of their walk from the carriage had been, the nature of it too heavy for certain areas of the docks and so walking the rest of the way had been required.

Only when they approached her old dwellings, pile of hand sewn blankets in her arms, did she speak. "This is where I lived once I had enough money," Bellamy told him, "and where Merry came to stay with me once I found him." The young jester's jovial horrors had swayed her heart quite quickly and she had felt immediately compelled to keep him from the worst. At least she had lost her wings in an attempt to save them and gained her freedom in the process, Merry had lost so many parts of himself just trying to survive, she could not fathom his pain.

The wolves certainly seemed to know the place, Quilt immediately moving around in search of where she would always find little brownies trying to sneak in and out of cracks in the stone. "That was ours," she pointed up to a small windows, weak wood from where, prior to Merry's arrival, Bella had boarded it up to prevent light from entering. The place was somewhat water worn but not totally rundown, still standing was better than some of the buildings by the docks. If storms got bad sometimes the homes weren't particularly safe.

"And I used to dispose of my meals there," Bella gestured in the direction opposite the home, broken dockboards with small boats strung up against it swaying because there was a strong current where water that washing into shore was pulled out. If observed, the current itself rarely moved because of a sandbar that was nearby, creating a strong rip so that Bella's victims would be dragged out to deeper waters not able to wash up easily. "I am sure many of the crustaceans in the area appreciated my scraps."

@valentinstjohn

[thebellamybarnesarchive]

Happy Valentin's Day, Fionnan.

Faux flowers so as to not distract you - unless you desire to be - and a suggestion I would desire for you to be distracted regularly.

Bellamy.

@valentin-stjohn

[thebellamybarnesarchive]

⌝ Delicate near white fabric of Vintage Mugler gave the illusion of life to Bella's pallid skin. The piece clung perfectly to her petite form, no stretch of the fabric too tight or element of it too loose. Each piece she had pulled from the closet had been the same, the perfect length for her short height accounting for heels, sized up around her hips and thighs, sized down around her chest. If she were to be extreme she wouldn't have even assumed general tailoring but exact tailoring, but she could not know because while each piece fit her, while Bella could determine the closet was hers, it was not. It was his.

⌝ The young vampiress had resisted her explorations of his home too long, every part of her form wishing to know what the home he had now was like, how much was it like the one they had shared that was now simply ashes. Certainly the areas that were not available to the public had a different energy to them, they were not so cream filled and warm, thankfully because she had become somewhat disillusioned by why the home was so...friendly. These areas made sense, but held their own torturous elements.

⌝. Bella had found his bedroom, with long mirrors and large windows draped with dark curtains. The bed smelling like him, fingers dragging along the edge of it, taking in the telltale scent of his cologne - ginger and tea and tobacco - along with the books by his bed, various scientific journals that would have never made a lick of sense to her, yet both made her smile. Upon opening connecting doors she expected his closet immediately but instead the large double doors revealed a clawfoot tub, glancing back to the bed and seeing how easily viewed it was, wicked thoughts in her mind.

⌝. When she finally found a closet, his presence still feeling so far from his estate, Bella was near ready to scream, to tear things apart. The large room that lead from casual wear and accessories down to gowns that hung from dark wood, some pieces Bella owned while other's she could never dream of. She thought about tearing them down, of burning it all in his beautiful garden, but as she moved towards a freestanding set of draws, Bella saw something familiar, an ombre bottle of perfume with a red base, the same perfume Valentin had gifted her, the room was filled with it. Bella had not noticed at first because Valentin had likely been subtle with it, many vampires not needing much to detect the scent, and Bella herself had shameless started to wear it, she presumed the sweet violet and vanilla to simply be herself.

⌝ That was what had let her to standing in front of a floor length mirror in a gown she had not purchased for herself but believed with perhaps narcissistic confidence belonged to her, standing there as she felt Valentin's presence growing near. She had felt it previously, when wearing a Vivienne Westwood corset paired with a cream wool mini skirt and navy Attico heels she had been considering switching out for perhaps the black Versace Platform loafers...easy to remove pieces, enough time to escape and yet...she had pulled on the Mugler dress and was actively admiring herself, her strict collarbones and subtle warmth elevated by the cool tone of the dress.

⌝ She could have run, she could have allowed him to scold her for breaking into his home in a less direct fashion but she had wanted to see him, each day that had passed she had hoped he would reach out beyond the gift he had given her over the holidays - for my masterpiece - but he had not. Perhaps he desired to give her space but Bella expected it was more that he was prioritising his work, and that he had not intention of wasting time trying to convince her to see him when she was perfectly capable of seeking his presence on her own. So...she waited, fingers delicately touching her naked neck, silver bracelet hanging from her wrist with tiny blood droplets like little pearls, soon hearing approaching steps.

@valentin-stjohn