WHEN HE TAKES HER HAND, Nadja Expects To Feel Teeth Sink Into Her Wrist. For What Could Be More Important

     WHEN HE TAKES HER HAND, nadja expects to feel teeth sink into her wrist. for what could be more important to a newborn vampire than their thirst for fresh blood? she remembers that, too : the way that her throat had seemed dry to the point of pain only a few hours after her change had finished, & the way that water had only made her ill all over again. he must be hungry. but instead, he only kisses the back of her hand, the image of a perfect english gentleman even as he rises from his deathbed & steps into immortality.

                      the tender gesture is enough to surprise nadja into temporary silence. & he seems to take advantage of her shock to cling to her hand a little longer. yet though their fingers remain entwined, his bright eyes drift out of focus, as if he is distracted by something, or deep in thought. but when he poses his question, it makes nadja laugh, the outburst reminding her where her voice is.

     ❝ cure you? don't be ridiculous, laszlo. i didn't cure you, i killed you, ❞ she clarifies, her tone unapologetic. ❝ perhaps i should apologize. i didn't mean to kill you. really, i didn’t — it's just that i saw you through your window & you were so handsome. & then when you let me in, & i suppose it's possible that i got a little carried away in our lovemaking. your fragile throat simply couldn't handle my passion, my sweet. ❞ & now it is nadja's turn to shrug. as if it's her fault that mortal men were so lovely & yet so easily broken.

             ❝ but i wasn't ready to let you go, so i made you swallow some of my blood as you lie dying. & now you're a vampire. ❞ & then she grins widely, her red lips pulling back to reveal a pair of long, needle-sharp fangs. ❝ like me. ❞

     SHE WAS LIKE A LIONESS encroaching on her prey, moving faster than he would have imagined possible. Common sense would dictate that he should be afraid. But how could he be? The past few days were a blur of pain and fever of which he thought he might not survive. Yet through that muddled haze, he had felt her presence. She, a stranger who owed him nothing, had watched over him like a guardian angel. For the first time since childhood, he had felt safe. 

     Perhaps it was merely a side-effect of his prolonged sickness, but he found himself acutely aware of his surroundings. Lights seemed ablaze and the sounds of the occasional carriage rolling down the cobblestone path below his apartment were thunderous. But her touch, by mighty her touch, was more poignant than anything he had felt before. Despite having been indoors for quite some time her fingers were cold- though he did not find this unpleasant. He shifted his weight onto his knees so they met eye to eye and gently grasped the fingers pressed against his neck. “ Leslie. Leslie Cravensworth, ” with that he pressed a kiss onto the back of her hand.

     The faint smell of blood on her hand left him with the overwhelming urge to suck on her fingers if only to have a chance at a glancing taste. He pulled back, brows knitted together as he struggled to put the pieces of this strange puzzle together. This was all quite peculiar. Leslie was well-read on the latest medical literature however when considering all his symptoms from the past few days to present no ailment sprung to mind. What’s more, he had gone from being deathly ill to feeling as if he had been reborn. Did the maiden before him have anything to do with this? Leslie was not one to believe supernatural babble, but could this truly be a coincidence? It was impossible to say. His memories of their night together were patchy. “ I’m terribly sorry, my darling, but I don’t seem to recall much of anything. Last I remember you had me on the verge of climax and then- ” he gave a shrug. “ Not a damn thing after that. What was it that you did to cure me. ”

THECODEKEEPER

A study in violence for the sake of peace, generational trauma, the abused becoming the abuser, ad destructive loyalty.  ©

so anyway, happy birthday calypso !

❝ NO WORSE FOR WEAR. ❞ save the missing toes, the sleepless nights, & the damnable bleeding heart in edward's chest that insisted upon making the rest of the caribbean bleed with it. but izzy knows better than to say so aloud. whatever the cause of edward's good mood today, he doesn't anticipate it to last — but he also doesn't intend to befoul it. ❝ we're already older than most of our lot will ever be. must be doing something right. ❞

You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be. — for ed from izzy ( @musecraft )

"And you're not the listless, browbeaten husk of a man that I feared you'd become. Look at us. How many decades? And no worse for wear then when we started."

       THE REVENGE ISN’T FAR AWAY, & izzy begins to return to her as soon as lucius is aboard the tender. the more his shoulders burn, the harder he pulls. the growing ache actually distracts from the sharper pain in his foot, & he endures it without complaint. yet he can’t help but wince at lucius’ question. he has no answer to give. while izzy would truthfully be glad to be rid of the lot of them — they were by far the most pathetic & infuriating crew he’d ever sailed with — that didn’t mean he would delight their slow painful death. besides, he's certain that even if he tried, edward wouldn’t be talked into keeping them aboard in his current state. izzy doesn't want to admit it, but something seems different about his captain’s rage this time, the ire he himself had unleashed. & he fears that lucius is right — that there will be no coming back from this ledge he's pushed them to.

                  ❝ i know he is, ❞ izzy snaps, voice ragged with exertion. the fresh injury on his foot throbs as if to remind him of the risk he's taking in disobeying his captain's orders, & he flinches in spite of himself. ❝ but we don't have much choice, do we ? if you'd rather take your chances with the sharks, you're welcome to jump back in. ❞ there is no lantern lit in the windows of the captain's cabin as they draw near, & the ship is peaceful & quiet. it seems that edward is still lost to his drunken sleep. izzy pulls them alongside until he finds the ladder he'd left waiting. & when he turns back toward lucius his voice is softer, almost gentle, as if he's trying to soothe his nerves. ❝ go, head straight belowdeck. i'll be right behind you. you'll be safe, just stay hidden. ❞

usually lucius would have some things to say about the reassurance he is being offered   (   okay,  quite a lot of things   ).  but in this nut case of a situation,  while he is still shivering and his throat feels scraped raw,  izzy's words don't sound entirely jarring.  or unwelcome,  even.  it's just nice to hear it and even nicer to believe him,  as baffling as it might seem:  izzy hands is a lot of things,  most of them not exactly positive,  but lucius supposes he can trust him when it comes to getting out of sticky situations,  when it's about improving his chances of survival.  and really,  they were painfully low before the man showed up like a mirage in the night,  before either sharks or fatigue could do the boy in for good.  even the usual snark isn't met with too much fuss.  lucius simply secures the blanket tighter around himself and when the eye roll comes it's more out of a matter of habit,  almost entirely half-hearted,  than actual grievance.

it takes being told not to worry, instead, to startle him out of the numbness taking hold of his limbs.  it shakes him out of the comforting darkness where what just happened to him is a distant dot on the horizon,  a nightmare he simply has to wake up from.   '  yeah?  and what will happen to them while i hide away in one of stede's ridiculous secret rooms or something?  '   voice crushed into a mixture of vitriol and disbelief,  lucius edges closer to the side of the little boat,  rendered suddenly aware of which side izzy would inevitably take in all of this,  when not covered by night and whatever blissful state of ignorance blackbeard has stumbled over.  he really should stop there,  shut his mouth and wait,  do as he is told,  yet the memory of fear turns his tongue sharp.   '  he is out of his mind,  hope you know that.  '