we can never be friends
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@vampiirc
we can never be friends
franklin-marsh·:
As if almost on command, Brooke came at his words and allowed herself the sweet release that had been building inside her. She felt him below her and how they’d became one for the first time, and let her head fall against his in unison with his moans. Her legs continued to quiver, before shaking rapidly as the lycanthrope had almost literally brought the vampire to her knees.
While catching her breath, her eyes looked to his for some sort of confirmation that he had indeed fucked her in a darkened alley behind a bar. That their hatred for each other had suddenly been paused, possibly intensified, for one moment and one moment alone.
franklin-marsh·:
It wouldn’t be long until Brooke couldn’t withhold her urge to release from her attempts at subduing what the Alpha Marsh was causing below. “I want to.” Her thighs began to quiver under his touch, as she felt herself building up to her demise. “I wanna feel something,” she breathed, unable to remember the last time she’d orgasmed, the last time she’d felt an intense pleasure that wasn’t caused by someone that wasn’t undead. But she was so close. “Fuck me harder.” Her words barely came out coherent, too enticed and tangled between moans and groans.
balthazar-windham·:
The police tapes that isolated the area were already a common sight for the residents of Cresthill, many deaths have occurred in the last few months, but of all this, it was the one that most shocked everyone. Fear was present in every curious look that observed the crime scene, and only one question remained: who would be next?
Balthazar was away from the crowd, watching from afar, lost in his own questions when he saw the female figure entering the circle, red hair waving, an anguished expression on her face. He didn’t even need to hear her screams to confirm that it was Brooke, his matriarch, he entered with long steps into the crowd, holding the woman lightly before her knees touched the floor. Nathaniel’s death had a great impact on her, perhaps even greater than that of Katya and Balthazar wondered if she would be able to recover, her great love was gone forever, and she was never very lucky in the matter of love.
The arms wrapped around her body, letting her collapse in his embrace, his hands gently touched the hair, caressing it, his voice was low but firm “We will find them and they will pay for what they did, I promise, all the city will be after them, there’s no escape” he looked around, people were watching Brooke, whispering to each other “We have to get out of here, you don’t need to stay here any longer”
Despite their last confrontation, the arms of Balthazar felt familiar and comforting, and were a welcome moment in the horrible dream that Brooke was experiencing. She’d remember to thank him for his kindness at a later date. She feared that the crowds of people watching her outburst would be another step towards her downfall, however, hopefully those staring with an intrigue into the life of the Windham matriarch would think that she was just another heartbroken victim that had lost her love -- speaking idle threats and promising an empty destruction.
“I hope they burn,” she whispered into the crook of his neck, before turning out of his embrace to glare at the passerbys and then turning to take one last look at her love. She’d never told him how she’d felt and that would be something she regretted, if it even was love. All she knew was that Nathaniel was helping her, and without him, she had to do it all alone and rule without the wisdom of either him or Katya. She kept losing people, the Windhams kept losing. It had to stop. “Take me somewhere... somewhere that’ll help me forget.” She asked, as her hand slipped downwards until it intertwined with his.
franklin-marsh·:
Her eyes lingered on him, as she felt his thrusts with a throbbing pulsation in her lower region. It was still difficult to comprehend that Franklin Marsh was the one making her legs shiver and quake with his touch and a member larger than she’d anticipated -- the claws she’d mock now causing her a pleasure like she’d never felt before. She grew closer to brink of ecstasy, and her voice only emitted more sounds of joy, with hands trailing to grip stands of his shortened hair. “Look at me,” she breathed, although her voice was stern -- the power play Brooke couldn’t shake. He may have been drunk, but she wanted him to remember her, remember how this felt, remember how he’d made the opposition explode between her thighs -- because she surely would, and she wasn’t sure she could live knowing it alone. She wanted him to know what he’d done. “Look at me, if you’re going to fuck the Matriarch.”
thcfinalgirl:
Max Irons & Madelaine Petsch Manip
@franklin-marsh
credencewindham·:
ೄྀ࿐
𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ; most learn from death is to cherish life as it goes by in a blink of an eye though this was all lost on Credence, he had lived far too many moons and lost the only person he had expected to share all eternity with, he was her’s and she was his beating heart in human form. To have it all taken away from him in a night, killed him. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t hold some kind of resentment towards the redhead for taking his wife’s place but rational thoughts came into play weeks after his wife was laid to rest and that thought that the clan needed a leader, Brooke learnt from Ekaterina and she was just as strong willed and fiercely protect their own kind. And she had proved to Credence that she could hold the weight of the invisible crown of matriarch, nether has he cared to much be apart of the recent games that had been toiling between the Marsh family and the Windham as it was all mere games between children to him.
The winds have changed on this dreary day that has changed the cause of direction they should head, he believed it might be time for truces between the supernatural beings as this wasn’t an attack on just one of them but all of them. He’d bring it up to the redhead when she was thinking more rationally. As for now all he could do was respect the privacy of those that have fallen victim to whatever in the Hel had dragged itself out of the depths of Hel’s dwelling, it had always been something that bother him when people didn’t respect the dead as Credence had closed all the eyelids of the dead, placed torches of fire near each of the dead to grant them all passage to the afterlife ― even near the head of the werewolf was a torch. Apparently now he also had to be there for the redhead in her time of need, hard for him to fathom with the fiery matriarch but death makes everyone’s knees buckle.
Not that he meant to scoff out loud from her turning it onto her own karma, he gently took her moonlight-like hand placed it in the crook of his arm as his left hand which still dawned his wedding ring on his ring finger to light pat over the back of her hand. “Urðr isn’t just punishing you, Brooke. No, it seems the god of fate is taking it out on all supernatural beings,” Cree stated the obvious, turning to hold her gaze. “Don’t be foolish into thinking this is all from your actions even the dances with half man and half beast,” the much older vampire stated as he heard through the grape vine and yet surprisingly enough not an ounce of judgment though any other given day there would’ve been but not today. All the torches had gone out with a gush of wind, telling Credence that they all where travelling the smoke to Valhalla. “This isn’t the act from the wolves, nor fae, nor merfolk, nor the völva… This is a power play by the shadows that is all this is, Brooke. We are all at risk when I mean all, I mean all of the town as I fear this may be the beginning of our version of Ragnarok.”
Tears stain his cream sweater that Ekaterina knitted him which happened to be under his chequered blazer when his sweater was pulled he slightly feared it would unravel from age and the younger vampire’s strong grasp. “Never apologise, you may weep for in the comfort of our own kind just not here as I fear the trees may inform the shadows of any sign of weakness,” Credence’s olde Norse roots coming through more and more as fear of the unknown lurked in the back of his mind. He softly rested his freckled cheek upon the crown of her head as she informed him that she wasn’t ready to leave which he respected, his eyes scanned over the faces of those none in whom which are related to the dead. “We can stay as long as you need when we leave you don’t have to fret about carrying him, I’ll take that task upon myself.” He told her softly in his low voice, lifting his cheek from her hair. “May I ask a favour, may we please have some time alone with Nathaniel and we’ll grant you all the same when we leave,” Credence words hold nothing but respect to those whom stayed to comfort the dearly departed and because of the small respect from Credence’s earlier actions, they all seemed to go off to the side still nearby but enough to give the illusion of just the three them. He turned his body slightly towards Brooke, lightly catching her chin and balancing it on a ring cladded finger, lightly dabbing at the drying tears of pale cheeks with the long sleeve of his knitted sweater. “Have nowhere else to be but right beside you as I made a vow to Nathaniel here to watch over you, Brooke.” The words held with truth, seeing as someone had to watch over her now, he didn’t mind as it kind of distracted him from his own pain.
He spoke like a poet, something out of novella that took a patience and understanding to grasp -- it had always been something she’d admired about him, even if it were from afar. Everything seemed so much beautiful with his chosen words, less shrouded by death and misery. However, with the corpse of Nathaniel laying close by, it was hard to focus on such a beauty coming from a tragedy such as this. Instead, she continued to weep for him and pray that Credence’s speech would bring Nate through to the light and he would not be stuck in another fiery Hell, like he had been in Cresthill. She used to believe that this town had been their saving grace, their solitude, their escape from a cold and hardened world... but to quote Shakespeare, all the devils are here. They were waiting, lurking in the shadows, ready to take what they wanted from those who loved too fiercely.
Brooke knew she was not innocent, in fact she had been one of the many horrors that stalked the streets at night and fed on the weak through fear and deception, a manipulation to get what she wanted. This had to be her punishment, it just had to be, the gods were torturing her in revenge for her misdoings. She’d taken many lives, and now they were being taken from her -- and she had to watch them, the cruellest of fates. “If you think this is our version of Ragnarok, then there is nothing we can do. However, someone here killed Nathaniel... and the others, and I will make them pay for what they’ve done.” Her voice hardened, the tears from her eyes slowly drying away as her sadness faded into an anger. “I keep losing people.” It was her fault, she was almost certain. “Not anymore.”
Her eyes met his and lingered for a moment longer, trying to search for something she couldn’t quite fathom. She reached out slender fingers with painted nails, gliding them gently across his cheek. Is this what he had felt like when Katya had met her demise? Of course, they had been married and her and Nathaniel had been nothing as close, but her heart was still broken. She felt sorry for him, and wished she had reached out to comfort him in his darkest time. No wonder he had secluded himself for so long. “We’ll watch over each other.” Her voice came out as a whisper, as she rested her forehead against his in a mix of regret and guilt, a shared empathy between two souls. With eyes closing to escape from the scene behind her, she focused on calming herself down and thought of Katya. “I’m sorry you had to be alone. I'll never let you be alone again.”
elenore-mendoza·:
As soon as Elenore had left the note on Hunter’s bed, she had gotten the news of the deaths in the woods. Seeing Nathaniel’s name made her undead heart skip a beat. While she didn’t want her sire dead, at least she was free from him. She had to go to the clearing to see it.
Upon arriving, Nora saw Brooke crying. She immediately ran over and wrapped her arms around her best friend. She tried to calm her down as she screamed and screamed, but what else could she do. “I’ll help you find who did this.” She whispered, cold hands running through auburn hair. “Hunter left me, Brooke. I’m yours.” She pressed her face into her best friend’s chest. “Whatever you need.”
Her attention was turned from the crowds as she felt the arms of her best friend around her tightly, and for a moment, Brooke almost felt at peace -- like Nora’s arms could take away her pain and wake her up from this horrible dream, nightmare, she was enduring. As she cried, she tried to resonate with the fact that Hunter had gone as well, much before his time. Perhaps he wasn’t dead, but she knew he’d meant something to Nora, and despite what was going on with the redheaded vampire, she needed to return the act of being there for her sister.
“I’m sorry,” she said almost comfortingly, through her hoarse voice, as she let her eyes drift past the younger female and towards Nathaniel’s dead, even colder, body. “I’m going to kill them, whoever they are.” Her words came as a whisper, a promise, a threat, as her gaze stayed glued to her deceased lover. “I’ll kill Hunter too.”
cresthillites·:
Marie’s world felt like it was falling in around her, with her recent turning of the full moon, learning of all things supernatural and the chosen five turning up dead, nothing seemed to make sense. It felt like a dream, or rather a nightmare, that she couldn’t wake up, where things were becoming all the more absurd with every passing moment.
The addition of the red head to the crime scene wasn’t set to make things any easier, especially with the threats she seemed to be shouting into the crowds. She recognised her from when she’d had to break the news about Katya, but that didn’t mean that she actually knew the young woman. She could only imagine how devastated people were to stumble upon the bodies of a loved one, but this felt different. This was revealing to Marie exactly who was what in a town that she’d been so oblivious in.
“Ms Windham?” Marie asked as she moved through the crowds, taking the others hand gently. “Ms Windham, I am so sorry. for your loss. Shouting at the crowds here is not going to help any, but do I need to call someone for you? Do you have any information that you might want to share with me or the other officers?”
The law enforcement in the town of Cresthill hadn’t been on Brooke’s agenda to bother with -- especially as they were human. How could they control a town practically run by those basically sent from the fiery depths of Hell? However, when the sheriff known as Marie had approached the redhead, she’d had a similar scent that rang familiarity among the redheaded vampire. Could she be something new? Her emotions were all over the place, and although the matriarch would return to assess Marie’s change of species, she didn’t care to dwindle down the details of her sudden smelling of wet dog. Instead, she respected and appreciated her attempt to calm the vampire down.
“I don’t think there is anyone you could call for me.” The person she could have called, in any situation relating to Brooke Windham, would have been Nathaniel Lawrence. Or perhaps Katya Windham. Both gone before their time, after surpassing stolen years. Could she have suggested Franklin Marsh? No. She couldn't call him... he wouldn't care, especially when Bandit Marsh lay nearby. “Information, like what?” She said, between bouts of tears. “I don’t know who did this, but when I find out --” There was a pause, as she remembered that she was talking to an officer. “--I hope you bring them to justice.”
credencewindham:
𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓉𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓅𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌 ; the shorelines that once held joy and innocence now cloaked with superstition, grief that drenched into the soils under the corpses of local, a troubling sight was that of a fallen conrad with that he sent another vampire to prepare proper burial rituals but to warn the rest about the dead. His feet dug in the soil as he took his weight on his toes, limp hand rested on the friend’s shoulder. “There, there pal, you can rest now. You have found eternal peace, under the watchful eye of Odin no one can hurt you…” his dark hues lifted as the people started to appear out of the woodwork to see the tragic sight. “Who shall say where this pain ends, at least you can begin your peace――” His sayonara to coax his friend out of purgatory and to the hall of Valhalla but it was cut short when the redhead came and without so much as a second thought, he moved in a blink to allow her to have her moment to mourn over her beloved.
His hand instantly went out to catch her fall, instead of letting her drop from her height, he assisted her to the ground before his hand left her body. He silently stood there, his hues sharpened as they drifted from the redhead to the crowd of on-lookers whom had become a little distasteful if they weren’t here for the dead and rather out of morbid curiosity that brought caused his teeth to grind at the thought of how disrespectful that truly is. Allowing the redhead to play out her threat towards the masses but as his eyes scanned any of their faces for a flicker of guilt or that would cause him to be suspicious but none gave him that and honestly they were all to dim minded to pull something of this magnitude off in the first place. Once her voice started to break, Cree’s hand dropped onto her shoulder as if to quietly gesture for her to stop, stepping past her body and it seemed to shield her from the crowd, releasing his grip to take another step thus more threatening that caused some of the crowd to step back.
“If you’re not here to mourn nor collected that of the dearly departed, I highly suggest while I’m in the tolerable mood that you leave now and I’ll give you the passage to leave with your hearts still embedded in your chest cavities,” Credence threaten the crowd, most knew he had a short temper on the best of days and more so when one of his family has fallen tended to bring out the ripper within. His hands clasped behind his back, standing straight to block the view of Brooke and Nathaniel as he waited for the stupidly brave fled the scene first before the followers did the same to not meet the wrath of Credence. Once the majority of the crowd had left he returned to her side, crouching back down into the position he had before, just on the other side, his hues holding sorrows of understanding her pain. “Don’t weep here for him, Brooke. We don’t need them to believe there is weakness,” he said to her, reaching out to tuck the fallen red hairs behind her ear to draw her attention for a second from mourning and shock to him. It was hypocritical of him to say, seeing as how after Katya’s death he went on a ripping spree in the next town over and pretty much turned it into a ghost town, after that he isolated himself but Brooke was stronger then him. “Let us take him home as he doesn’t belong here.“ He said, not liking the thought of him being surrounded by other species in such a shameful display of someone seeking power and he started a beautiful graveyard as he knew Katya wouldn’t be the last body to fall. It was on the thicket of trees of his mini manor that shares the same property of Windham share manor, he liked his privacy.
The appearance of Credence, her former mentor’s current widow, was a welcomed surprise and one that was unexpected. Perhaps she should have sought out the consort sooner, but she was aware at how greatly affected he had become after his wife had perished before her time. Besides, she’d never known where she stood in his opinions, now she had taken Ekaterina’s position. Regardless though, she had always respected him and his protectiveness of his own kind. That had been something they shared in common.
Her eyes darted from the gathering crowds to watch the older vampire say his piece to those who came to observe the shocking discovery. She hadn’t expected him to be threatening, so forceful in his words, but it stood as a reminder of who he was. Someone who was once a leader beside Ekaterina. Through silence and replaced with a longing look of gratefulness, she thanked him for defending her and respecting the deaths of not only Nathaniel, but the other species that were laid to rest too soon.
“I think I’m being punished.” She hadn’t meant to make her lover’s death about her own karma-fuelled beliefs, but the timing had been less than adequate to remind the redheaded vampire that she had fallen victim to a Marsh’s seduction, allowed Katya’s murderer to go unscathed, and a number of other various felonies -- in her eyes. She betrayed her commitment to her vampiric side, her commitment to the ongoing war between vampires and lycanthropes, in the hopes of what? That everything would be peaceful and safe? That there’d be justice for the years of bloodshed both sides received due to the feud. If this was justice, she didn’t want it. She just wanted Nathaniel back, the only vampire that truly believed she had what it took to rule the Windham coven. Of course she knew that lycanthropes were not responsible -- that was made evident by the appearance of Bandit Marsh at another point of the pentagram. Whoever was responsible, would wish they had died along with them.
She rested her head upon the shoulder of Credence, her hands reaching out to grasp clumps of his clothing as she cried into the fabric -- almost begging him to not leave her alone in this state without the use of spoken language. He was right though. She felt like a fool, crying her eyes out over someone that, in theory, could easily be replaceable. It made her feel weak. She wasn’t weak. “I’m sorry,” came out as she steadied her breathing to hear his words. “That would be nice. I just... I don’t think I can move right now. It’s all too much, this has to be a dream.” It was almost as though she were emotionally paralysed, stuck to the filthy ground below her, waiting for a miracle to happen. But she didn’t want to be alone. “Please don’t go.”
franklin-marsh·:
Feeling Franklin enter the part of her she didn’t openly share made Brooke emit a sound that coupled with the tingling sensation that ran throughout her body. It had been so long since she’d felt someone other than a vampire inside her -- a living breathing soul. He felt different, and it only spurred her on. With nails clamping into his shoulders, she threw her head back against the wall behind her, allowing herself to moan in pleasurable ecstasy. “Please... don’t stop.” She begged -- something she’d hate herself for in the morning -- being at the mercy of a Marsh.
The news broke out about the chosen five that had suffered a tragedy in the forest near Echo Lake, and Brooke had eagerly waited for confirmation that her fears had become true. That Nathaniel had been part of the deceased. However, her impatience grew and she found herself running through the woods until she came to the clearing where her former beloved lay alongside the other four, cornered off by some tape. It couldn’t be true. It had to be just a trick.
“No...” she breathed as, for the first time in forever, she felt her eyes stinging with emotion. Her legs almost gave way, as she fell to her knees in despair at the sight of his lifeless body. She wasn’t the matriarch without him, he was going to help her, she couldn’t do this on her own. They were suppose to rule together. How could she face the Marshs, the other threats of the world without his wisdom and power? She’d already lost Katya.
“Who did this?” Her voice turned cold, angry, hateful. Her eyes scanned the gathering of people that had come to gawp at the corpses with intrigue. Everyone was a suspect, and the redheaded vampire was so overcome with sadness that she couldn’t see reason. “I’ll kill you.” She told the crowd. “I’ll find out which one of you did this and I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!” Perhaps she should have been quieter, more subtle, less threatening.
franklin-marsh:
Her hands couldn’t contain the desire she felt coursing through her body, and moved to fiddle impatiently with his belt buckle, scraping her nails along his skin as she went. Tugging aggressively, until she had access to relieve him of his confined clothing, her fingers stroked his member through his underwear. “Fuck me, Alpha.” She breathed into his ear, needing to feel him before she went crazy with a restlessness and a passion to have Franklin Marsh between her thighs.
elenore-mendoza·:
“I was feeding.” Nora admitted. He didn’t kill her whenever he could have. “I appreciate your blessing.” The brunette leaned her head on her friend’s shoulder. “I know. I didn’t at first, but I know now. Katya asked me to fight in this war, and I didn’t want to.”
In a way, it was difficult for Brooke to grasp that some people didn’t support Katya and the war she’d started, or been apart of. After all, she was all the redheaded vampire had known as family, she’d done everything for her, including leaving the legacy to her. “Well, there won’t be a war for much longer.” She said, trying to reassure her best friend -- although she had no way of knowing. She supposed that was down to herself and Franklin Marsh. “You;ll see. We’ll all get to live happily ever after.”
mossy-daisy·:
@vampiirc·
Daisy had decided to take a walk near the Windham Mansion. Katya had a beautiful rose garden that she absolutely adored. It was everything she ever wanted, and yet she was stuck in an apartment with no garden. It was disappointing. Upon leaning in to smell the flowers, she heard someone clear their throat. The blonde turned around, hands up, and said, “It’s not what it looks like!”
“Its okay,” Brooke replied, as she approached the woman. She’d been admiring the roses herself -- coming to the garden made her believe that Katya was watching over her, that in some way she wasn’t really gone. “As long as you’re not stealing. I won’t have to hurt you.”
franklin-marsh·:
The taste he left upon her mouth made her lips tingle, an uncomfortable feeling mixed with a passion and desire to experience it again. However, her attention was unforgiving, as she slid her hands underneath his shirt, gliding her fingers along his spine until she felt his own upon her centre. With a satisfying moan, she dug her sharpened nails into his back, only gentle but enough to leave a mark, claiming him as hers.
xxmarioara-atwood·:
“I think a fair amount of people who know about the feud will make assumptions. An eye for an eye thing. Not that they’re correct. But that is where the mind tends to wander.” The news rarely knew the real story behind the happenings of Cresthill.
“And where do you stand on the feud?” Brooke asked, interested to know whether she was conversing with someone who despised her kind. “An eye for an eye seems correct and I’ve wanted to, but I never killed a Marsh. Werewolves, sure. Never a Marsh.”