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#Post#: 1164--------------------------------------------------
Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 8:42 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Elias checked his watch for the fifth time in the last two
minutes, the steady tap of his fingers against the scratched
café table betraying the storm in his chest. The little coffee
shop was quiet, almost peaceful—an absurd contrast to the
ticking clock inside his head. Time was slipping through his
fingers, six final months grinding down like sand in a glass too
narrow to shake.
After years of chasing dead ends, poring over old family records
and obscure folklore, he’d finally found someone—someone who
might be able to break the curse that had haunted his bloodline
for generations. A vampire, of all things. Ling had promised he
would send him. He had to have told him how urgent this was.
Right?
Elias swallowed hard. Desperation had been his constant
companion for years now, but it had sharpened into a near-panic
with each passing day. Twenty-five was too damn young to die.
Too young to have his life stolen by a curse he hadn’t asked
for, inherited like a death sentence engraved in his DNA.
He could still remember the way his father died. He'd only been
three, but trauma etched its own kind of permanence. The memory
came in flickers: the way his father's breath rattled, the fear
widening his eyes, the pain written across his face. And then
silence. Elias had never forgotten. His family’s curse didn’t
allow for forgetting. It left breadcrumbs in journals, medical
charts, whispered warnings passed down like heirlooms.
Only the men were affected—one by one, every last one dead by
twenty-five.
It was a small mercy, Elias supposed, that he couldn’t pass the
curse on. He was gay, and the idea of biological children had
never been in his plan. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted it to
end with him. He wanted to live. He wanted a chance at love, at
meaning. At breathing past the age of twenty-five.
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, the motion
tired and automatic. His eyes dropped again to his watch. The
hands moved relentlessly, each tick stealing another second he
couldn’t get back.
Where the hell was the vampire?
°°°°°°°°°°
Draven stepped out of his car, the door opened by his driver.
Night had fallen as he entered the dim coffee shop. He enjoyed
human habits sometimes, like the rich flavors and smells, though
he really lived on human blood. These days, he got it from
donations—a modern, civilized way to satisfy an old need.
Tonight, he had a date, set up by a friend who thought he needed
to socialize more. But Draven missed his peaceful, shadowy home,
where solitude felt like an old friend. Social events were brief
distractions; home was where his timeless heart felt at ease.
He noticed the man at the table and sat down. “Hello, sorry for
how late I was.. wasn’t sure what to wear.” Said the vampire.”my
name is Draven Vladimir, and you might be?…” he asked.
#Post#: 1165--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 8:44 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Elias' head lifted at the sound of approaching footsteps, and
felt his mouth go instantly dry at the sight of the extremely
good looking vampire standing and then wearing himself across
from him.
He couldn't help but stare, his throat bobbing at the apology,
and the clothes the vampire had struggled to choose. Why would
it take so much care and attention to detail when they were
meeting for business? Or...had the vampire thought this was a
different type of meeting?
"It's all right, no need for apologies, you're here now," he
said straightening up a bit in the chair and squaring his
shoulders.
"I'm Elias..Elias Edevane. Did..Ling happen to mention why we
were meeting?" He asked, biting on his bottom lip.
He winced suddenly feeling the curse mark flaring on his
shoulder. It had been doing this lately, as if trying to remind
him of his oncoming demise.
Elias shifted again, his hand reaching into his bag to brush
against the journal nestled inside with the information on his
curse. He hesitated though, not sure if he should reveal it just
yet.
---
“I was told this was a blind date,” said the vampire, his figure
eerily still. He took notice of the wince, and how his hand
moved a little into his bag.
A deep groan slid out.
"This isn’t that, is it?" he asked slowly, exasperation lacing
his tone. It wasn’t the first time Ling had told him one thing,
only for it to turn out to be something entirely different.
While he didn’t mind working, he found that most of the people
he interacted with eventually abandoned him. He was in the midst
of giving up again.
“So.. what ails you?” He questioned as his posture changed to be
more of a businessman, but clearly looked a little annoyed .
—
Elias' eyes widened, shock showing in clearly on his face at the
revelation that the very attractive Drevan has been misled into
thinking he was in a date.
"Uh..well it could be a date as well if you'd like. I do find
you very attractive," Elias murmured back softly.
Elias considered telling the vampire everything right then, but
the annoyed look made him change his mind. "Oh nothing, I just
have a sore shoulder from working out earlier. Ling kind of
fudged on this being a date, probably because I don't normally
get out much. I've had a few bad experiences," he said honestly.
"So..what's it like being a vampire going on blind dates? Do you
have a specific type you like?" Elias asked leaning in a bit
with a curious look.
“I don’t get out much either, but he has a knack for tricking me
into work,” the vampire admitted with a wry smile. “I had a
run-in with a few unpleasant folks after I helped out, so… maybe
Ling deserves an earful about not treating people that way.”
When the next question was asked, the vampire blushed slightly.
“I’m usually a homebody. I haven’t had a lover in… well, who
knows how long. Mourning takes its time, but getting back into
dating is always tough—times change, and so do people’s
mannerisms,” he confessed honestly.
The second question seemed to pull him into deep contemplation.
“That’s kind of hard to answer. I’ve had maybe three partners,
but they were all very different,” he admitted, his fingers
drumming thoughtfully. He remembered Alois, his first love—bold,
brash, and confident.
Alois was taken from him by a hunter. After a period of
mourning, he found solace with a human, only to lose him quickly
as well. His last lover, Ciel, had been both manipulative and
captivating, drawing him in with delicate charm. Their
relationship ended with betrayal and a curse, after Ciel
unsuccessfully tried to shift the blame onto him.
“I guess I like smart men—kind, confident, sometimes a bit
brash,” he said softly, lost in thought. “And honest. Someone
who doesn’t lie or hide things.”
—
#Post#: 1166--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 8:48 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Elias shook his head, hearing that it was common for Ling to
trick Drevan into working. "Maybe we should track him down and
give him an earful," he muttered and took a sip from his glass
of water.
He was a bit surprised to hear they had a few similarities
between them. Elias showed an empathetic expression hearing
that Drevan had experienced loss. Given he was an older vampire,
he supposed there had been several.
He let out a rueful chuckle, running his hand through his hair
at Drevan saying what he liked, adding he preferred honest
people who didn't hide things.
Well it seemed he'd definitely started off on the wrong foot, so
to speak.
"Well I suppose I fit some of those. I'm not the brash type in
the least but. If anything I'm a bit self depreciating and
probably too vulnerable for your tastes. I'm rather sharp in the
intellectual area though. I find it hard to say complimentary
things about myself, though others have said I'm kind hearted. I
try to be as honest as I can, with those I trust. Trust isn't
all that easy for me though. My father died when I was young,
and my mother abandoned me, so that's where the trust issues
derive from. I am working on overcoming that," he finished and
then slowly stood up and stretched out.
"I understand if you'd prefer not to continue, but if you do,
maybe we can find another place to talk? Or we could just go for
a walk," Elias suggested.
________
Draven listened to the man's agreement about scolding Ling to
calm things down. "Well, if we are dating, it's just the
beginning. I know everyone’s different; it really depends on
what sticks, I suppose," he remarked thoughtfully. "My father
and mother are both alive. If you ever meet my family, be
prepared—my mother has a habit of doting on my past lovers. My
father, however, is a bit more challenging to win over. Out of
all my partners, only one ever managed to impress him," he
mused, reflecting on his past. "Trust is something that has to
be forged and earned," he added, standing up.
"Want to take a walk? I could really use some movement," he
suggested, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top of his
shirt.
"To be honest, I sense a curse on you. I can't say exactly what
it is, but if I’m annoyed with anyone, it’s Ling for pulling
this stunt," he said with a sigh. "Though, to be fair, Saga
might have done the same—since I’m blood-bound to a young woman
who's a promising spell weaver," he admitted candidly. "So, we
might need to work around that on the days we go out," he mused.
—
Elias was a bit surprised when Draevan took his torrent of
personal issues without batting an eyelashes, and shared about
his own parents.
"I can't say I've met many parents before. I'd imagine
supernatural parents would be even harder to impress," Elias
murmured thoughtfully.
"Sure, a walk would be good," Elias agreed, his eyes following
Drevan's hands as he undid his tie and exposed more of his skin.
He felt his face flush a bit and glanced away.
They'd just started towards the door when Drevan spoke up
mentioning his curse. Elias' mouth went dry, and he glanced to
down as his hands picked at his jeans as he listened to Drevan
talk about being blood bound to another person.
"I...uh ..have sort of a limited amount of time left due to this
curse of mine," he finally admitted, not quite ready to look
Drevan in the eyes. "But we don't have to talk about it right
now. Let's just enjoy the night,"
__
“My mother is never hard to impress, as long as you’re a
gentleman,” Draven said with a chuckle. “And compliment her
artwork,” he added, his footsteps echoing softly against the
cobblestone as they left the warm glow of the coffee shop
behind.
The night embraced them with its cool breath, city lights
shimmering like distant constellations reflected on rain-slicked
streets. Elias gave a gentle sigh, the words lingering in the
crisp air. Limited life curses were something he despised the
most, especially for those with fleeting spans.
“As you wish, Elias. Now, if you don’t mind me asking, how do
you pass the time?” Draven’s voice blended with the distant hum
of cars and the rhythmic tapping of their steps.
“I love to read and watch old silent films,” Drevan said, his
gaze drawn to the flickering neon reflections in puddles. “A
Trip to the Moon was a favorite of mine—it was made in 1902. And
another, Nosferatu, from 1922. Granted, it’s about a vampire
terrorizing a couple,” he added, a light laugh escaping. The
thought amused him, compared against the cinematic spectacles of
the modern era that made vampires terrifying to what he deemed
dismal to his kind.
—
Elias' gaze shifted back to Drevan, a soft smile filling his
face at the vampire's advice in how to win his mother over.
"She's an artist? That's impressive. I studied art and like
drawing myself. I usually carry a small sketchbook with me when
I go out. I tend to draw mostly portraits, or animals from time
to time," he said softly.
Elias was momentarily lost in the sights of the city, not
minding walking in silence. There was something about Drevan's
presence that made him not feel the urge to fill the silence,
but waited for the vampire's next inquiry.
"Well when I'm not drawing, I like watching old films and
reading. I like to go between the genres, I don't really have
one favorite. I wouldn't mind watching some silent films with
you, if you'd feel up to it. As for a job, I do research and
editing for writers, and I've been a ghost writer for a few
authors in the past few years. The flexibility of those jobs
have given me more free time to learn several styles of
dancing...along with the art forms that are dying. Like
calligraphy, and knitting," Elias added, blushing slightly.
--
“Yes, she enjoys doing paintings, particularly of scenery or the
family when she can,” he said, his voice melding with the faint
hum of distant traffic and the occasional gust whispering
through deserted streets. “So you two may get along just fine,”
Draven added with a soft chuckle, the sound briefly filling the
quiet void around them.
Draven continued the walk, his footsteps echoing lightly against
the pavement as he listened to Elias speak. His voice carried a
soothing warmth, blending seamlessly with the nighttime
ambiance—distant city lights flickering like scattered stars,
and the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze.
“Dancing? I do love a good waltz or two,” Draven confessed, his
eyes drifting shut for a moment, savoring the memory. “My first
love was very much into dancing—so I know many.” His voice
lowered to a tender murmur, mingling with the faint sounds of
the city beginning to grow silent. “So if you’re into maybe
doing a dance sometime…”
—
The city lights shimmered on the wet pavement, casting long
reflections that danced beneath their feet as they walked.
Elias' eyes flicked up toward the tall vampire beside him, his
expression softening as Draven spoke about his mother and how
well they might have gotten along. A wistful look crept into
Elias’ gaze—tinged with sadness and something quieter, older. A
flicker of jealousy stirred in his chest, uninvited, but he
tamped it down with practiced ease. Longing for what might have
been would only reopen old wounds.
"I'm sure we would," he said quietly. A small, hopeful smile
ghosted across his lips. "Maybe one day I'll get to meet her."
They walked in silence for a few beats, the sounds of the city
hushed around them. Then Draven mentioned dancing—waltzing, of
all things—and Elias’ entire face lit up. His eyes widened,
bright with delight, and he turned toward him with sudden
enthusiasm.
"Wait—you waltz? Is there actually anywhere in this city where
people still do that?" he asked, incredulous and intrigued.
"I’ve learned a few waltzes myself, but that was in a private
studio—very formal, very choreographed. Not much room for fun."
A flush rose to his cheeks as he went on, his voice dropping
just a little. “Have you ever tangoed?” he asked, brushing a
lock of hair from his eyes, his fingers trembling slightly more
than he meant them to. “I'd love to dance with you sometime.
It's not easy finding a partner who's... comfortable with me
taking the feminine role.” His gaze flicked away at the last
part, as if afraid of what he’d see in Draven’s expression.
They paused beneath the soft glow of a streetlamp. The park
ahead loomed in the shadows, quiet and still, but Elias slowed,
his steps growing hesitant. He remembered the reports—dark
rumors, whispered warnings about attacks near the benches and
under the trees. A prickle of unease crawled along his spine.
“Maybe…” he began, his voice gentler now, “you wouldn’t mind
walking back with me? Just until my Uber gets here. I—” He
glanced up, searching Draven’s eyes. “I’d like to see you again.
If you’re interested.”
A pause. Then, more quietly, more vulnerable:
“Would you like to exchange numbers?”
---
#Post#: 1209--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 3:41 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Draven nodded with a warm smile. "There's a studio not far from
here—my friend Iridessa runs it. She's the classiest she-wolf
you'll ever meet," he said, mentioning the dance. "It's called
Moonwalk, of all things. She was never great at naming things,"
he added with a chuckle.
The talk of tango made Draven blush. "I've never tried the
masculine role for that one, but I'd like to give it a shot. I
never quite fit in the feminine role," he admitted sheepishly.
Gathering his courage, Draven continued, "Could I offer you a
ride back? Also, I'd love to exchange numbers." He pulled out
his phone, ready to text his driver.
—
Elias smiled, a little bashfully at first, then nodded.
“I’d like that… the studio, I mean. It sounds nice. And Iridessa
sounds... interesting,” he added with a quiet laugh, his eyes
flicking up to meet Draven’s for a second before darting away
again.
At the mention of tango, his cheeks colored faintly.
“I’m not an expert at tango, but if you’re willing to try, I’d
like to try too. We could figure it out together?”
When Draven offered him a ride, Elias hesitated for just a
breath before nodding again.
“Yeah, a ride would be nice. And—uh—sure, numbers, yeah.” He
fumbled slightly as he pulled out his phone, thumb hovering as
he looked up with a small, hopeful smile.
“I’m really glad we met today. Maybe we should thank Ling for
setting us up," he added thoughtfully.
---
“That sounds like a lot of fun!” Draven exclaimed, his eyes
lighting up with excitement as a bright smile spread across his
face. He eagerly jotted down the number, his steps lighter as
they made their way to the car.
““Perhaps after a stern talking-to about the trickery involved,”
the vampire muttered begrudgingly.
As the car came to a gentle stop, the driver stepped out and
opened the door, gesturing for the two to enter. Settling in,
one of them spoke warmly, "Just give the address to the driver,
and we'll get you there." He fastened his seatbelt with a
reassuring smile.
—
Elias, still a bit flushed, smiled shyly and typed Draven’s name
into his phone before sending off a quick text. He stuck close
to the vampire’s side as they walked, his eyes flicking
nervously to a few shady-looking characters loitering nearby.
When Draven muttered something under his breath, irritation
clear in his tone, Elias couldn’t help but let out a soft
chuckle.
“Has he done this to you more than once?” Elias asked, his voice
laced with curiosity.
From what little he’d seen, Ling didn’t strike him as the
matchmaking type. But clearly, he’d misjudged the man.
Unused to the luxury of having a driver, Elias flushed again as
the sleek car pulled up to the curb. He slid awkwardly into the
back seat, quickly scooting over to make room for Draven. When
the driver prompted him for an address, Elias rattled it off
clearly while fumbling with his seatbelt.
The drive wasn’t long, but as they neared his apartment complex,
the rising plumes of smoke turned his stomach to ice. His breath
caught, and his face fell.
Two firetrucks stood parked in front of his building, red lights
flashing. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered, milling
anxiously around the still-smoking ruins of what used to be
someone’s kitchen.
“Oh no,” Elias breathed. Panic surged through him. “Buttercup’s
still inside!”
He barely waited for the car to stop before yanking the door
open and running toward the gathering crowd, heart pounding.
“What happened? Has anyone seen my cat?” he asked desperately,
eyes scanning the people for a familiar face or a sign of the
little fluffball.
A familiar voice called out. “Those jerks next door had a bad
kitchen fire. I managed to grab the munchkin before the
firefighters made us clear out.”
Elias turned to see one of his older neighbors stepping forward,
holding a soot-smudged, short-legged cat in his arms. Buttercup
gave a soft meow of protest as he was gently handed over.
Relief hit Elias so hard it nearly knocked him off balance. He
clutched Buttercup to his chest, burying his face in the cat’s
fur. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you so much.”
“The worst part?” another neighbor added with a huff. “Smoke
damage is so bad, they’re saying it’ll be at least a week before
we can go back in—maybe longer.”
Elias sighed, glancing back at the charred building. Buttercup
shifted in his arms, purring faintly despite the chaos.
Great. No home, and no way to access most of his work files. He
had some backups in his Google Drive, but that was only half of
what he needed.
“Guess I’ll have to find a hotel or something,” he muttered,
then frowned. “But… most hotels don’t allow pets.”
He looked over at Draven, a little sheepishly now. “This day
just keeps getting better.”
---
Draven noticed a group of people gathered outside as his car
slowed to a stop. The door creaked open, and the pungent scent
of smoke filled the air, making his nose wrinkle slightly.
He saw Elias bolt to try to stop him, but didn’t get in time
before he’d rush out himself.
Thankfully an older man approach, gently cradling a cat, his
expression softening with care. It was clear that many residents
were being displaced from their homes. Driven by his nature and
responsibilities, Draven retrieved his phone, allowing the man
to finish his conversation before interjecting.
"There’s no need to worry," Draven reassured him. "If you’ve
been forced out of your home, please head to Maple Drive.
There's a manor there, well-maintained and I’ve been meaning to
give it use-. You won’t have to pay a dime—it’s just a temporary
shelter until things are sorted out. If you wish to stay we can
talk of another arrangement down the line.” Said the vampire.
He offered a warm smile to the older neighbor. "All the rooms
are the same, so take your time choosing."
He then turned to his date.”your welcome to come with me, the
rooms will hold least this much but, to help, think it’s best.”
He mused.”my home is on apple lane, so least it’s something- I
got extras of everything too if you need to work.” He told Elias
with a soft look.
“Oh and if anyone needs something- feel free to ask the help at
the manor- they’ll hook you up with what we have.” He called out
before he’d texted.
“Kitchen fires.. wonder how that happened.” He mumbled to
himself.
--+-+
Elias and his neighbors all glanced up, visibly stunned by
Draven’s generous offer to let them stay at a manor he owned.
The added detail—that they wouldn’t have to pay anything—seemed
to catch everyone off guard.
“That’s mighty kind of you, sir. We’ll gladly take you up on
that offer,” one of the neighbors finally said, the others
nodding in agreement. Their expressions were a mix of relief and
heartfelt gratitude.
Elias, still cradling Buttercup, stared at Draven with wide
eyes. “You’re serious?” he asked, voice soft with disbelief.
“Well… thank you. Really. That’s incredibly generous of you.”
After chatting with Henry for a few more minutes, Elias followed
Draven back toward the car. As they walked, he added, “Knowing
CJ and Emily, they probably got distracted and forgot they were
cooking. It’s happened before.”
Once they reached the vehicle, Elias glanced down at the cat
nestled in his arms. “Would you mind if we made a quick stop for
some cat food and supplies? I don’t want Buttercup making a mess
in your home—especially not after you’ve been so kind to host
us.”
---
Draven gave a slight shake of his head. "That shouldn't have
happened, but anyway—I don’t mind. I have a cat of my own named
Sir Whiskers. He’s generally good with people and other cats,"
he said.
"Let’s get what you need, and if there’s anything specific, feel
free to grab it," he added, offering the man a ride in his car
once again. "Also, if you need Buttercup checked out, I have a
vet I keep on call," he admitted sheepishly.
“And I don’t mind- I’ve invested in a lot of things over the
years and been trying to be helpful- thus the young woman you
might see from time to time if you come with. It’s more of a
promise with a former demon friend.” He said to chuckle.
—
Elias nodded in agreement, his expression brightening at the
mention of Draven's cat. “Sir Whiskers? That’s such a great
name,” he said with a grin. “I can’t wait to meet him. I’m sure
he and Buttercup will get along—she’s very friendly.”
“Thanks,” he added sincerely as he slid back into the car,
gently settling into his seat. Carefully, he looked over the
cream-colored cat in his arms, checking her with slow,
deliberate care. “It might be a good idea to get her checked
out. Just to make sure she didn’t breathe in too much smoke,” he
murmured, his brow creasing in concern.
As the car pulled away, Elias relaxed a little, turning his gaze
toward Draven as the vampire spoke about trying to help others
whenever he could. A warm smile tugged at Elias’ lips. “Well,
then people are wrong to assume the worst about
vampires—especially when someone as kind-hearted as you proves
them wrong.”
A few blocks later, they pulled into a small local store. Elias
gently handed Buttercup over to Draven. “I’ll be right back,
just grabbing a few things. You two can get to know each other,”
he said with a playful note before slipping out of the car.
Inside, Elias quickly gathered what he needed—food and water
bowls, a small bag of food, Buttercup’s favorite treats, a
litter box, and some cat litter. After a short wait in line, he
paid and returned to the car, arms full.
Sliding back in and settling the bags between his legs, Elias
glanced over at Draven and Buttercup. “You two doing all right?”
he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.
---
Draven smiled warmly. "I’m sure he will. Don’t be surprised if
he wants to cuddle. He’s like that with new people—he’s more
careful with new cats, though," Draven explained.
"I’ll give a call. The vet will be at my place when we get
there," he assured confidently.
At Elias’ mention of vampires, Draven grew quiet for a moment.
He was one of the few who had broken from the old ways, carrying
a silent weight in his thoughts.
When they arrived at the small store, Draven cradled Buttercup
gently, enjoying the soothing sensation of stroking the cat as
it purred in acceptance. His face softened with contentment, and
he murmured with a peaceful smile, "We’re fine. Got everything
you need?” He asked.
—
Elias couldn’t help but smile warmly at the thought of how
friendly Mr. Whiskers was. He hoped Buttercup would get along
with him—it would make the whole arrangement much easier. If
not, well, he could always keep her in one room if needed.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Elias said, a hint of gratitude in
his voice. He really did need to find a regular veterinarian for
Buttercup. Up until now, he’d been lucky that she hadn’t needed
one.
His grin widened as he noticed how relaxed Buttercup looked,
eagerly rubbing her face against Draven’s hand like she'd
already claimed him.
“She becomes best friends with anyone who gives her a little
attention,” Elias said with a chuckle. “Total traitor.”
He nodded in response to Draven’s question. “Yep! I should be
good for at least two weeks,” he said as he reached for his
seatbelt and buckled in.
Then, with an easy smile, he leaned against Draven’s shoulder
and gently reached over to scratch behind Buttercup’s ear.
“Hey, princess,” he murmured affectionately. “You ready to go
stay with Draven for a bit?”
“Mmmr?” came Buttercup’s reply—a soft, trilling sound—as she
angled her head into his fingers, clearly enjoying the
attention.
Elias chuckled. “She doesn’t meow or talk much like most cats.
Mostly makes those little trilling sounds and purrs when she’s
happy.”
He glanced up at Draven, his smile lingering. “She’s a sweet
girl. I think you’ll get along just fine.”
—
#Post#: 1210--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 3:50 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Draven chuckled. "Oh, that's not a bad thing now, is it,
Buttercup?" he said, continuing to pet Buttercup.
"It's quite cute, for sure," Draven added with a smile.
The car finally pulled up to his large home. As the driver
opened the door, Draven stepped out gracefully, Buttercup
nestled securely in his arms. The household staff promptly
approached, assisting Elias by carrying the items he had
purchased. With an elegant gesture, Draven ushered Elias inside.
"Welcome to my manor. If you need anything, feel free to ask
anyone here—or me," said the vampire, his voice smooth and
inviting.
Draven led Elias through the grand entryway, pointing out
various common rooms along the way. They passed a lavish sitting
room adorned with velvet drapes and antique furnishings, a
library filled with towering shelves of ancient tomes, and a
sunken lounge with a grand piano tucked into the corner.
Finally, Draven paused before a richly carved wooden door. "This
will be your room," he announced, opening it to reveal a
spacious bedroom with a large, comfortable bed and warm
lighting. Adjacent to it was a private bathroom, complete with
modern amenities and luxurious details. "I hope you find it
comfortable. Let me know if you need anything more." He said
before hearing a familiar meow of whiskers that would proceed to
greet Elias by rubbing himself on his leg, purring as he did so.
---
“It’s not bad,” Elias said with a chuckle, glancing down at the
fluffy feline tucked against his side. “Though I do get a little
jealous sometimes. The few people I’ve brought over to my
apartment, she seems to think they’re there just to see her.”
His voice softened as he looked at Buttercup with affection.
“And honestly… she’s probably right.”
“Oh, she’s absolutely adorable—and she knows it,” he added with
a smile. “That’s why she gets away with everything.”
As Draven stepped out of the car, Elias followed, but the moment
he lifted his eyes to take in the mansion before him, he froze.
His breath hitched, and his mouth parted slightly in awe.
“Wow…”
The sheer scale of the place—the elegant architecture, the
manicured grounds, the quiet old-world grandeur—left him
momentarily speechless.
Staff approached, and though Elias instinctively clutched the
bags tighter at first, a gentle insistence from Draven had him
reluctantly handing them over. “Thank you,” he murmured, still
trying to take in the view.
Inside, it was like stepping into a living museum—refined,
timeless, with a quiet elegance that made Elias feel
simultaneously out of place and enchanted. Every detail seemed
to whisper of history and taste, and he found himself craning
his neck to see everything at once.
Draven showed him to a guest room, and Elias froze at the
threshold. The room was beautiful—large windows, soft lighting,
and a bed that looked like it belonged in a dream.
“This is… more than generous,” Elias said softly, his voice
touched with awe. “I’m sure I’ll be more than comfortable. Thank
you, Draven. Really.”
A soft meow drew his attention downward, and he glanced at the
cat now winding between his legs. The black-and-white tuxedo
feline looked up with keen golden eyes.
“Well, aren’t you a distinguished little gentleman,” Elias
murmured, crouching down and offering his fingertips. “Hello
there, Mr. Whiskers.”
Once the cat had a good sniff, Elias smiled and looked up.
“Does he have a preference for where he likes to be petted or
scratched?”
When Draven answered, Elias followed the instructions dutifully,
gently scratching behind the cat’s ears and along his cheeks.
Mr. Whiskers purred in approval, and Elias’s grin widened.
“Oh—and if it makes things easier, I can keep Buttercup in here
tonight,” he offered, glancing at the bed. “Also… I just
realized I didn’t bring anything else to wear. Would it be okay
if I borrowed something to sleep in?”
----
Draven offered a gentle smile, his gaze shifting as he noticed
his tuxedo cat, Mister Whiskers, approach Elias with a friendly
nudge. "He can be quite affectionate," Draven chuckled softly.
"He especially loves being petted under the chin. Just give
gentle scratches there, and he'll be your best friend in no
time."
He Draven watched as his cat bonded with the new person. "You're
welcome to let her wander; it's a large mansion, and I can lend
some nightclothes—they're a little old-fashioned, I hope you
don’t mind that," he said sheepishly.
Turning slightly, Draven called out to his butler, "Could you
fetch my nightgown, please?" Moments later, when the butler
returned, Draven took the neatly folded garment and handed it to
Elias with a gentle smile.
—
Elias smiled warmly, clearly enjoying the soft, eager way Mr.
Whiskers leaned into every chin scratch. “Well, we should
probably give Buttercup and Mr. Whiskers some time to get
acquainted,” he said, his tone light but fond as he glanced
between the two felines.
At the mention of old-fashioned nightclothes, he raised an
eyebrow in mild amusement. “I suppose it’s still better than
trying to sleep in a dress shirt and boxer briefs,” he added
with a small laugh—though the slight flush creeping into his
cheeks betrayed a touch of embarrassment.
As Draven handed Buttercup over, Elias carefully gathered the
fluffy cat into his arms and sat down, letting her curl into his
lap. He watched with interest as the two cats sniffed and
circled one another, their tentative curiosity promising either
peace or chaos.
When Draven returned with a nightgown, Elias accepted it with a
hesitant smile, holding it up and eyeing the frilly sleeves and
laced neckline with faint disbelief. A pink tinge colored his
cheeks.
“Well,” he began, lifting a brow and glancing up at Draven with
a playful spark in his eyes, “would seeing me in this… turn you
on?”
His tone was teasing, but there was a genuine note of curiosity
beneath the banter—a quiet desire to know how Draven saw him,
even in something as ridiculous as ruffled sleepwear.
---
Draven nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening as he
considered the idea. "I think it's a good idea to let the two
cats get to know each other," he said, his voice calm and
reassuring. "Introducing them gradually can help ease any
tension and allow them to feel more comfortable in each other's
presence."
As his words lingered in the quiet room, an unexpected thought
slipped into Draven's mind—Elias in nothing but his underwear. A
sudden warmth rushed to his cheeks, painting them with a faint
pink hue he tried to ignore.
He cleared his throat softly, hoping the flush would fade as
quickly as it had appeared, his gaze drifting to anywhere but
where Elias might catch his lingering embarrassment.
Draven blushed turned darker at Elias’ words. “It might.. but
I’m one to take my time some.” He admitted before scratching his
cheek lightly.
—
Elias nodded at Draven's calm response, and after letting the
two cats sniff at each other, lifted Buttercup up in his arms,
and got off the floor. He didn't want to overwhelm either of the
cats with too much interaction. Though it was obvious with how
his princess had reacted, that she was ready to make friends
with Mr. WHiskers.
"You know, if you ever consider giving him a new nickname,
Wesley isn't a bad one," He joked, thinking of the Princess he'd
named his cat after from the Princess Bride movie. "I'll let
them interact more tomorrow once I wake up. Am I right to assume
you sleep during the day?" Elias asked curiously.
He just happened to glance at Draven when the vampire blushed
rather brightly, Noticing the vampire's nervous reaction, had
him smile slightly, then forced himself to look away from him.
"I apologize for being so forwards, I didn't mean to embarrass
you. I don't mind taking things slow. I will admit, I am very
drawn to you. I'll say goodnight for now, and see you again
later tomorrow,"
--
“Wesley, huh? I’m curious—where did that name come from?” Draven
asked, his voice tinged with genuine interest. It had been a
long time since he’d indulged in movies, his curiosity piqued.
He caught the next question and responded smoothly, “Yes, I do
sleep during the day. Once the sunlight has long since faded,
that’s when I emerge.”
Draven hesitated slightly, the faintest flush coloring his
demeanor before he added softly, “I feel drawn to you, too. I’m
quite old-fashioned when it comes to love—I want to get to know
you properly before you’re mine.”
“The servants are a mix, so don’t be afraid to approach the day
help if you need anything. Lizzie is our human maid- she also is
quite informative about a lot of things if you need anything in
particular.” He said.
—
“You’ve never seen The Princess Bride?” Elias’s eyes widened in
mock disbelief, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Oh, I’m
definitely making you watch it with me sometime. It’s got
everything—action, comedy, romance, sword fights, and the
happiest ending you’ll ever see.”
He stretched slightly, letting out a soft yawn as Draven
explained he'd slept through the day. Elias gave a nod of
understanding, imagining the vampire curled up somewhere in
total stillness. What does a sleeping vampire even look like? he
wondered idly. Peaceful? Creepy? Suspended midair like in the
movies?
“I’ll try not to be too loud when I get up,” Elias said with a
small chuckle, trying to sound casual but secretly curious about
everything Draven hadn’t said.
He blinked when he caught the faintest hint of a blush on
Draven’s face as the vampire admitted to being old-fashioned. It
was subtle, fleeting—but it was there. So he really meant it,
Elias thought, his gaze drifting slightly, recalling Draven's
earlier words: You're mine. That hadn’t sounded just friendly.
“I can work with that,” Elias murmured, a little slower this
time, the edges of his voice tinged with something warmer,
deeper. There was a quiet thrill in knowing the vampire might be
thinking about him that way. It was a little intimidating...but
more than that, it was exciting.
“Thank you,” he added gently. “I’ll talk to Lizzie when I get
up.”
Then, stepping closer, Elias leaned in and pressed a soft kiss
to Draven’s cheek—quick, but deliberate. “Really… thank you. For
everything.”
His face flushed crimson the second he pulled back, the weight
of what he’d just done sinking in all at once. Without waiting
for a reaction, he retreated to the guest room in a flurry of
embarrassed warmth, disappearing into the bathroom to change,
heart thudding a little faster than before.
-----
It was late morning when Elias' grumbling stomach finally drove
him from the comfort of the soft guest bed. The sheets were rich
with the faint scent of lavender, and he couldn’t remember the
last time he’d slept that well. It was almost unsettling how
peaceful it had been.
As he sat up and stretched, his eyes fell on the tall-backed
brocade antique chair near the dressing table. Folded neatly on
the seat were his clothes from the night before—freshly
laundered, pressed, and smelling faintly of cedar and soap.
“Well, the staff is certainly on top of things,” Elias murmured,
amused, as he slipped out of the crimson nightgown he’d borrowed
and redressed.
Once clothed, he ran his fingers through his hair to make
himself halfway presentable and headed out of the room. The
house was quiet but not cold, sunlight slanting in through tall,
narrow windows. After a few minutes of wandering through a mix
of elegant hallways and cozy nooks that made the place feel more
like a well-kept manor than a vampire’s lair, he finally caught
the faint scent of something delicious—and followed it straight
to the kitchen.
The warm, lived-in space was a pleasant contrast to the rest of
the grand house. It smelled of garlic, rosemary, and something
gently simmering on the stove. Lizzie stood at the counter,
barefoot in worn jeans and a cardigan slipping off one shoulder,
humming to herself as she stirred the contents of a heavy iron
pot.
Elias hovered in the doorway for a moment, unsure if he was
interrupting.
“You found your way here, good.” Lizzie turned, offering a smile
that softened the sharpness of her features. “I was about to
come get you. You’ve got good timing—food’s just about done.”
“I could kiss you,” Elias muttered, eyes drifting toward the
pot, and then froze. “I mean—figuratively. Out of appreciation.”
Lizzie laughed. “Relax, you’re not the first starving guest I’ve
fed. Sit down. You like vegetable stew?”
“Love it,” he said, settling at the table while Buttercup, his
golden-furred cat, padded in behind him, tail twitching with
interest.
Mr. Whiskers, the vampire's dignified tuxedo cat, was already
perched regally on the windowsill. He eyed Buttercup coolly—but
rather than hissing or leaping away, the older cat leapt down
and ambled over to give the new arrival a slow, curious sniff.
To Elias’ surprise, Buttercup returned the gesture with calm
interest. A moment later, the two cats rubbed cheeks and began
circling each other in lazy companionship.
“Well, that’s rare,” Elias commented, watching the pair.
Lizzie peeked over her shoulder and grinned. “Looks like they’re
getting along. That’s a good sign. Mr. Whiskers doesn’t warm up
to just anyone.”
Elias tilted his head. “Really? So what does it mean if he
does?”
She ladled stew into a bowl and brought it to the table. “Could
mean the house likes you. Or maybe the cats know something we
don’t.”
He accepted the food with a grateful nod. “I’ll take either.
Thanks.”
Lizzie joined him with a cup of tea, sipping while he ate.
“So... Drevan mentioned you’re doing research?”
Elias looked up, half a bite in. “He mentioned that?”
“He mentioned you. He doesn’t let just anyone stay under this
roof, so I was curious.”
He took a moment to chew, then said, “I’m looking into blood
rites from the Age of Collapse. Mostly how they evolved
underground when vampire influence started fading from public
knowledge. There’s some overlap with curse craft and lost
languages too, so it’s a bit... dense.”
Her eyes lit up with genuine interest. “That actually sounds
incredible. Most guests just bring books about defensive wards
or relics that explode. But you’re digging into actual forgotten
history.”
Elias gave a sheepish shrug. “It's a passion project. Possibly
career suicide. But I like it.”
Lizzie smiled. “You’ll fit in fine here.”
When he finished, she stood and motioned for him to follow.
“Come on. I’ll show you the study. You can set up there until
Master Drevan wakes.”
Buttercup followed dutifully, Mr. Whiskers close behind, and the
two cats padded side-by-side down the hall as though they’d been
lifelong companions.
Lizzie opened the door to a warm, wood-paneled room lined with
ancient books and softly glowing crystal sconces. A wide desk
sat near the hearth, and the scent of ink and old parchment made
Elias exhale like he’d come home.
“You can work here as long as you need,” she said, gesturing
around. “Just... don’t summon anything in the carpet.”
Elias arched a brow. “That happen before?”
“Once. Not fun.”
He chuckled, setting his bag down beside the desk. “I’ll try to
behave.”
As she turned to leave, Lizzie paused in the doorway. “Let me
know if you need anything, Elias.”
He glanced up. “I will. And Lizzie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad the cats approve.”
She laughed softly and left him to his work.
The study grew quiet except for the occasional rustle of paper
and the soft scratch of Elias’ pen. Hours slipped by unnoticed.
The thick velvet curtains filtered the sunlight, turning the
room into a cocoon of golden shadow and dust motes that danced
lazily in the air.
He had lost himself completely in his work—translating a
fragment of old script etched into the margin of a crumbling
text Drevan had apparently acquired centuries ago. His notes
sprawled across the desk in organized chaos: diagrams,
ink-splattered translations, and long strings of interconnected
theories pinned together by barely legible shorthand.
Buttercup snoozed in a patch of light, belly-up and dreaming,
while Mr. Whiskers had claimed a high shelf, eyes half-lidded
but alert, like a silent guardian.
Elias adjusted his posture, rubbing the back of his neck as his
mind whirred. “If the binding runes shifted to avoid
sunlight-imbued sanctums, then that would explain the lack of
resonance in the northwestern ruins...” he muttered to himself,
circling a phrase. “But why change the sigil order entirely
unless—”
A soft chime from a distant clock broke his focus.
He blinked, lifting his head for the first time in what felt
like minutes, only to realize the light outside had turned a
dusky lavender. Dusk had arrived. The sky beyond the window bled
into purple and ash, a hush settling over the house.
Elias leaned back in his chair with a low sigh. His hand ached,
his back was stiff, and his tea had long since gone cold—but his
mind buzzed with the kind of satisfaction that only came from
deep, uninterrupted work.
Buttercup stretched and jumped onto the desk, sniffing his elbow
and mewing softly.
“I know,” Elias murmured, scratching between her ears. “Time got
away from me.”
He gathered his scattered notes into a rough stack and stood,
stretching with a satisfying series of pops. Somewhere deeper in
the house, a faint sound echoed—a door creaking open or perhaps
footsteps on the floor above.
Elias glanced toward the hallway, suddenly aware of the shift in
atmosphere. The light was fading. Shadows were growing. And
somewhere, behind the quiet elegance of the house, its master
would soon wake.
He smiled faintly, straightening his vest. “Showtime,” he said
under his breath, and waited.
---
#Post#: 1211--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 4:46 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
As night draped its shadowy veil across the man's room, he lay
nestled within his narrow resting place, lost in a dream. In the
depths of sleep, delicate whiskers brushed against his
consciousness, soft and insistent, guiding him through a
labyrinth of shadows.
These faint whispers led him onward, drawing him ever closer to
the enigmatic figure of his former lover, whose presence
flickered like a distant beacon in the dark expanse of his
dreams. It would shift and change to being lip locked with
Elias- which would wake him up suddenly.
Draven stirred from his slumber, the jarring sensation of
bumping his head against the top of his coffin serving as his
unconventional alarm. Grumbling softly, he pushed the lid open,
rubbing his forehead to soothe the tender spot.
Rising from his resting place, he began his morning routine with
practiced precision. He headed to his private bathroom, where a
cold shower invigorated his senses and woke him up. After drying
off, he dressed in a tailored suit. He would smooth the collar a
little as he looked in a mirror with no reflection.
Once fully dressed, Draven entered his office where a neatly
prepared packet of donor blood awaited him, a necessity to fuel
his day.
He would walk the halls to find Elias. The dream that he had
made him feel the need to find him. As to why he saw the former
lover turn into him- made him wonder..
His head turned to the window to see the moon as he drank down
the blood some.
—
The soft sound of approaching footsteps outside the study had
Elias rising to his feet, instinct guiding him to the door. He
opened it just a crack, peering out—and there he was. Draven.
A quiet smile tugged at the corners of Elias’s mouth, warmth
blooming in his chest at the sight of him.
“Hey,” Elias said, his voice soft, almost shy. His fingers
brushed nervously down the front of his pants, as if smoothing
out invisible wrinkles. “Did you sleep well?”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t
uncomfortable, but it held something—something charged, maybe
even expectant.
Elias shifted his weight and stepped a little closer, teeth
catching his bottom lip in a small, unsure gesture. “So… uh,” he
began, eyes flickering up to meet Draven’s, “what are your plans
for the night? Were you hoping to talk or just… hang out
together?”
There was a faint vulnerability in his tone, the question
hanging between them like a fragile thread, waiting to be
pulled.
---
“I slept... well,” said the vampire rather softly.
A long moment of quiet settled between them, thick with unspoken
thoughts. The silence stretched, wrapping around them like a
dense fog, only to be broken by a hesitant question.
“Honestly—I’m not sure what you want to do. Normally, I bum
around or teach magic to those who need to learn,” he said, his
voice casual but tinged with something deeper.
Another pause settled, heavier this time, filled with the faint
creak of aged wood as the help worked. The quiet seemed to make
the vampire feel pressed to speak more.
“...or fix things that need to be,” he added quietly.
The stillness lingered a heartbeat longer before Draven’s voice
pierced it, low and deliberate.
“Elias… what would you like to do- or is there something you
wish to tell me?” He asked with a rather knowing look.
—
Elias’s breath caught faintly in his throat at Draven’s
question.
That knowing look—piercing and patient—settled in his chest like
a weight. He glanced away, teeth working at the inside of his
cheek as if debating whether to say anything at all. His fingers
curled briefly into fists at his sides, before he drew in a
breath and exhaled slowly.
“I was hoping I’d have more time,” he admitted at last, voice
hushed. “But I guess the dreams don’t let either of us pretend
for long.”
He stepped back into the room fully and gestured for Draven to
follow. The door closed behind them with a soft click as Elias
moved toward the armchair by the fireplace—but didn’t sit.
Instead, he turned his back to Draven and reached up, fingers
slipping beneath the neckline of his shirt. In one slow,
practiced motion, he slid it off his shoulders.
Across the pale expanse of his left shoulder blade was a mark—no
longer faint. What had once resembled a sigil or brand now
sprawled in sinister, vein-like tendrils of ink-black and
bruised violet. It pulsed faintly, almost alive, like something
festering beneath the skin.
“I have a little less than five months left,” Elias said
quietly, almost as if he were reciting something he’d come to
accept. “Every man in my family who bore this died before
twenty-five. My father. His father. All of them. It starts as a
birthmark, but as the deadline nears, it grows. Hurts.”
He finally turned to face Draven again, dark eyes shadowed with
fatigue and flickers of pain. “Some days I wake up and I can
barely breathe. My joints ache like I’m rotting from the inside
out. And the worst part? It gets in my head. Nightmares.
Hallucinations. Sometimes I forget where I am. Who I’m with.”
A bitter, tight smile pulled at his lips as he looked down.
“That’s why I always seem tired. Why I disappear, sometimes,
without warning. It’s getting harder to hide.”
There was a rawness in his voice now, a quiet despair edged with
something darker—fear, maybe. Or resignation.
He shrugged his shirt back on, fingers trembling slightly.
He paused, then gave a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh. “At
first… I thought maybe Ling introduced us because he knew you
could help. That you were meant to fix this. And maybe part of
me still hopes that’s true.”
His gaze lifted, softer now. More vulnerable.
“But then… I got to know you. Or at least, I wanted to. Not
because of the curse. Not because I needed anything.” He
hesitated, then added more quietly, “Just… because it was you.”
A breath hitched in his throat, and he took a small step
forward.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” Elias admitted, regret flickering
across his face. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I just… I
didn’t want you to look at me and only see the end of a
countdown.”
There was a faint tremor in his voice as he met Draven’s eyes
again.
“I’m sorry, Draven. For hiding it. And for not trusting you with
the truth until now.”
--
Draven’s breath hitched at the sight, his stomach twisting with
unease. Memories of curses he had unraveled flashed through his
mind, yet none compared to this. Though its form was unfamiliar,
he could feel the weight of ancient magic woven into its very
essence.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Draven murmured, his voice
steady with determination. “But I swear, I will find a way to
undo it.” He gently brushed his fingers against the man’s face,
tenderly caressing his cheek with a touch filled with promise.
“It’s fine. I have a sense of things—it was up to you if you
wished to share. I’m glad you did,” the vampire replied
thoughtfully.
“I’ll contact a friend of mine—he’s much older than I am.
Dragons tend to know many spells; the hard part is helping them
remember,” he added with a faint smile.
“You’ll stay in my home. If we find someone willing to work on
this, we’ll move forward and set you free,” Draven murmured
softly.
“So please- think of this as your home. Don’t be afraid to
wander where you wish and read what you desire. My drivers can
take you anywhere you need to go. My resources are your
resources.” Said the vampire.
While he barely knew the man- he planned on saving him.. and
perhaps- just maybe learn more about him in the process.
“For now.. would you like to watch a film.. or.. stroll with me
in the garden?” He questioned.
—
Elias’s breath caught as Draven’s fingers grazed his cheek. It
was a simple touch—gentle, fleeting—but it struck something deep
within him. His body tensed instinctively, then softened with a
quiet, shaky exhale. How long had it been since anyone had
touched him without pain or purpose?
He lowered his eyes for a moment, as if gathering himself.
“You’re very kind,” he said softly. “I wasn’t expecting... this.
Hospitality. Warmth.”
His gaze flicked up again, cautious but sincere. “I don’t know
what you see in me that makes you want to help, but… thank you.
I won’t forget it.”
At the offer of a film or a walk, Elias paused. Then, without
fully thinking, he murmured, “The garden. I’d like to feel the
air. The stars.”
As Draven offered his arm, Elias hesitated only a breath before
stepping closer. His shoulder brushed Draven’s as they walked,
and after a moment, he let himself lean just slightly into the
vampire’s side. Not enough to ask too much. Just enough to say:
I’m still here. I still want to feel something.
The night opened around them, quiet and silver. Elias tilted his
head up toward the sky and whispered, almost to himself, “it
feels more like a home than any place I've lived before.”
A few more steps, and then: “You mentioned a dragon friend,” he
said quietly, curiosity curling into his voice. “Are they…
really like the stories? Scales and wings and hoards of gold?”
He chuckled faintly, as if he wasn’t sure he believed his own
question. “I’ve met an elf once. But I still don’t understand
much about this world. What else is real? What else have I
missed?”
He looked over at Draven, gaze steady now. “I want to know. All
of it. If I’m going to live again… I want to understand the
world I’m waking up to.”
----
“Ender is quite a unique dragon—he hoards, yes, but his
treasures are books and knowledge,” Draven chuckled after a
peaceful stroll outside, venturing slightly into the garden.
“As for werewolves, the tension between us stems from an age-old
war that has long since faded. Now, we view each other as
equals. In fact, I have a friend who is an alpha, living near my
old home,” he added as he walked.
“Fae exist as well. Much like succubi, they feed on sexual and
sensual energy, and can be quite the tricksters in their youth,”
he mused thoughtfully.
“Witches exist too, but not all are evil. Their magic
varies—from inherited abilities to unique crafts individual to
each practitioner,” he explained.
Draven paused, his voice taking on a rich, resonant tone. “What
is the biggest thing you wish to learn about my world, Elias?”
—
Elias listened in silence, letting Draven’s words sink in as
they walked beneath the soft glow of the garden lanterns.
Dragons who hoarded books, ancient wars turned to uneasy
friendships, beings who fed on desire itself—it was a lot to
take in, and yet… it felt strangely alive compared to the
half-life he’d been enduring.
When Draven posed his question, Elias slowed his steps, eyes
drifting to the dark expanse of the sky. “How to survive it,” he
said quietly, but with a thread of steel in his voice. “That’s
what I want to know.”
He glanced at Draven, the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at
the corner of his lips. “If there’s truly a way to break this
curse… then I don’t want to waste the life I’ve got left. I want
to live it for as long as I can.”
A pause, and then more softly: “So teach me how to see the
dangers before they see me. Teach me what not to trust. Teach me
where to run, and when not to run at all.”
His voice dipped almost shyly as he added, “And maybe… how to
find someone to love. If you don’t think that’s too clichéd.”
He kept his eyes ahead after that, but there was the barest
flush at the tips of his ears—an unspoken admission that the
thought of love, however distant, still mattered to him.
--
Draven chuckled softly, his gaze steady on the path ahead.
"Survival's a good start," he replied simply, a hint of warmth
in his voice. "I can teach you that."
After a brief pause, he added with a slight grin, "And love's
never clichéd. It just sneaks up on you when you're busy
surviving."
He continued walking, his steps light but sure, leaving Elias
with a quiet reassurance hanging in the air.
“But in terms of dangers and when to retreat? Much easier to
do.” Said the man with a flash of a smile.
“How about first- I teach to dance?” He said with a small smile.
“Can be quite- fun.” He said with a chuckle.
—
Elias blinked at Draven, caught off guard by the sudden shift in
topic. A quiet laugh slipped free, low and warm. “Dancing?” His
lips curved into a small, amused smile. “I do know a few steps…
but I have a feeling you know far more than I do.”
He tilted his head, thoughtful as he walked alongside Draven.
“Maybe we start with something simple, though. If we leap
straight into tango, you’ll make me look like a beginner all
over again.”
There was a subtle glimmer of challenge in his eyes now, a hint
of playfulness beneath his usual reserve. “I’d rather ease into
it—let you show me how you move first.”
After a beat, his tone softened. “It’s been a long time since
I’ve danced with anyone. I remember the steps, but not… the
connection. Not the feeling.” His gaze flicked toward Draven,
lingering for a breath longer than necessary. “I think I’d like
to remember.”
As they reached an open space in the garden, Elias let his hand
rest lightly at his side, his posture shifting with unconscious
grace. “So,” he said quietly, a smile ghosting over his lips,
“what dance do you want to start with, teacher?”
-----
Draven’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, the faintest
glimmer of mischief lighting his eyes. “Ah, Elias… I suspected
you had a few steps in you,” he said, voice smooth and teasing,
the words rolling off his tongue like the first notes of a song.
He circled once, not quite touching, letting the anticipation
stretch between them.
“Simple, then. We’ll start with a waltz,” Draven decided,
extending his hand with a flourish that was both formal and
inviting. “No tangles of legs, no sudden spins—just the rhythm
and us. Besides…” His gaze sharpened, lingering on Elias with a
heat that belied the soft elegance of his tone. “I like watching
someone remember how to move.”
He stepped closer, guiding Elias into position with the
effortless confidence of someone who had led a hundred partners
before. “You don’t need to think about the steps,” Draven
murmured. “I’ll carry you through them. All I want is your
attention—and the rest will follow.”
As the night air curled around them, Draven leaned in just
enough for his next words to brush the space between them. “Now…
shall we dance?”
#Post#: 1212--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 4:48 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Elias drew in a steadying breath, his pulse quickening with a
mix of anticipation and unease. The way Draven circled
him—measured, confident—was almost as mesmerizing as the promise
of the dance itself.
He stepped forward slowly, closing the last bit of space between
them. His hands hovered for a moment, uncertain, before he let
them settle—one lightly in Draven’s palm, the other resting
against his shoulder.
“I haven’t forgotten the basics,” Elias murmured with a soft,
almost sheepish smile. “But you seem like the type who could
turn a simple waltz into something… more.”
His thumb brushed lightly against Draven’s hand, almost
unconsciously. “So if I stumble, you’ll just have to be
patient.”
He shifted into position with natural elegance, posture
straightening as memory returned to his body. “Lead the way,
Draven,” Elias said quietly, his tone holding a subtle
challenge. “Let’s see if I can keep up.”
-
Draven’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as he crossed to
the gramophone in the corner of the vast, polished room. The
space was empty but for the gleam of its floor and the echo of
their breaths, perfect for the waltz to come. He selected a
record with deliberate care, setting the needle down with a soft
crackle, and the lilting strains of music began to fill the
room.
Turning back to Elias, Draven extended his hand with a
gentleman’s poise, fingers open and inviting. “Then trust me,”
he said in a low, velvety voice that carried over the music.
“I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”
When Elias placed his hand in his, Draven’s grip was firm yet
careful, guiding him effortlessly into the first steps. His
other hand rested at Elias’s waist, leading him into the rhythm
as though the music itself had taken physical form between them.
With a subtle shift of weight, they began to waltz, their
movements echoing softly in the spacious room.
Draven leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving Elias’s. “Just
follow my lead,” he murmured, their steps gliding into perfect
synchronization as the melody swelled around them.
He felt the flow, even with some hiccups- the connection felt
real, like he was falling into step, trying to keep pace to
Elias would be okay.
His eye softened as he murmured.”am I going too fast?” He asked.
—
Elias’s breath caught, his chest tightening at Draven’s
nearness. The warmth of Draven’s hand at his waist, the steady
strength guiding his steps—it sent a rush of heat creeping up
the back of his neck. His heartbeat quickened, each beat loud in
his ears and perfectly in time with the music.
When Draven’s soft question reached him, Elias’s mouth went dry.
He stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink.
“You’re perfect…” he blurted, then immediately realized what
he’d said. “I mean—” The blush deepened, spreading across his
face and down his throat. “Not too fast. Not fast at all.”
His gaze flicked up, meeting Draven’s for just a moment before
darting away, as though the vampire’s steady eyes might unravel
him completely. A nervous laugh slipped past his lips. “I… I’m
just trying to keep up with you.”
Despite his embarrassment, Elias’s steps never faltered. There
was a quiet determination in the way he followed Draven’s lead,
his hand tightening ever so slightly in Draven’s as if to anchor
himself in the moment. “It feels…” he hesitated, searching for
the right word, “…safe. With you.”
-
Draven’s lips twitched into a shy, hesitant smile as he
listened, his crimson gaze flicking toward Elias only to dart
away again. “S-Safe, uh, hmm?” he murmured, the words catching
in his throat, voice softer than he intended, a nervous laugh
lingering underneath. His hand at Elias’s waist trembled
slightly, giving an awkward squeeze as he tried to guide him
into another step, careful and a little unsure, though still
somehow gentle.
“You’re doing just fine,” Draven said as he got himself under
control- his blush the only thing remaining. He then leaned
closer so that his words brushed against the shell of Elias’s
ear. “Better than fine, in fact.” A faint chuckle rumbled in his
chest, warm and rich despite the icy edge to his presence. “I
like the way you follow my lead… the way you trust me.”
Draven reveled in the twists and turns, as though he’d slipped
back in time to his first love. Blonde curls, blue eyes, and
that unforgettable smile filled his mind. With each spin across
the room, his movements grew more confident, more daring, as
memories guided his steps.
The moment would stop, thanks to the record skipping- having ran
off the track.”ah.. I really should fix that.” Said Draven as he
moved to fix it.
—
Elias froze for half a heartbeat, Draven’s warm breath brushing
his ear like a spark catching dry tinder. His entire body went
tense, and then—despite himself—melted into the closeness, a
rush of heat creeping up his neck and flooding his cheeks.
“I—uh—” Elias stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. The
words tangled in his throat as he tried to regain some
composure. “You… you shouldn’t say things like that while we’re
dancing,” he managed, though it came out breathless rather than
reprimanding.
His hand at Draven’s shoulder tightened unconsciously, fingers
curling slightly against the fabric of his coat. His heart was
hammering now, the steady rhythm threatening to drown out the
music entirely.
“I mean…” Elias’s blush deepened, his gaze darting anywhere but
Draven’s crimson eyes. “You make it sound like I’m… special.
Like you really…” He faltered, shaking his head, the rest of the
sentence lost to nerves and rising emotion.
When the record suddenly skipped, breaking the spell, Elias let
out a shaky laugh, the sound tinged with relief and
embarrassment. He stepped back half a pace, pressing a trembling
hand against his warm face.
“Y-you… should definitely fix that,” he said quickly, his voice
softer than usual and still unsteady. “Before I—uh—trip over my
own feet again.”
Even as he tried to hide it, his lips curved into a shy, genuine
smile, one that spoke of how deeply the moment had affected him.
-
#Post#: 1213--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 4:54 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Draven’s fingers hovered over the edge of the gramophone, the
faint skip of the record still echoing in the sudden hush. He
let out a quiet chuckle, eyes tracing Elias’s flushed cheeks and
that shy, almost-hidden smile.
“Well then- You trip beautifully,” he teased, voice low and
smooth, as if savoring the weight of every word. “Gives me a
reason to catch you.”
He straightened slowly, the soft glow of the lamplight catching
in his crimson eyes. With deliberate ease, Draven adjusted the
record, letting the melody swell back into the room. Then he
extended his hand once more, palm open, patient.
“You make the room warmer just by being in it,” he said, a hint
of mischief curling his lips. “So, Elias—shall we risk one more
dance?”
—
Elias’s blush deepened instantly, spreading across his cheeks
and down the column of his throat at Draven’s teasing words. He
ducked his head for a moment, a shaky laugh escaping him despite
the rapid flutter of his heart.
“You really shouldn’t say things like that,” he murmured, though
his voice lacked conviction. It was soft, almost breathless,
like he was secretly savoring every word.
When Draven offered his hand again, Elias didn’t hesitate this
time. His fingers slid into Draven’s palm, gripping just firmly
enough to show he wanted this. “Yes,” he said, barely above a
whisper, lifting his gaze at last. “I’d like that. One more
dance.”
As the music swelled once more, they moved together in a smooth,
seamless rhythm. Elias’s earlier nerves melted away under
Draven’s lead, replaced by something freer, almost heady. For a
few precious moments, it felt like the curse was gone—like there
was only the two of them and the melody that spun around them.
But then it struck.
A sharp, searing pain lanced through Elias’s chest, so sudden
and fierce it stole the breath from his lungs. His steps
faltered, his knees buckling as he clutched at Draven’s shoulder
with a choked gasp.
“Ah—!” Elias’s cry was raw, desperate, his vision blurring at
the edges. “No, not now—” His voice cracked, trembling as
another wave of pain crashed through him, leaving him nearly
doubled over.
He tried to take another step, to keep from collapsing, but his
body refused. The floor tilted beneath him as if the world
itself were falling away.
Draven’s arms were the only thing keeping him upright as Elias’s
strength failed, his head lolling forward against the vampire’s
chest. “I—I’m sorry,” Elias whispered, breath ragged and fading.
“The curse… it..it does this sometimes. Oh God it hurts…”
His words dissolved into a strangled sound, his consciousness
flickering as darkness threatened to pull him under.
-
Draven’s grip tightened around Elias instinctively, his voice a
low, steady rumble despite the panic coiling in his chest.
“Elias. Stay with me. Look at me.” He shifted his hold, one hand
cradling the back of Elias’s head while the other anchored him
close, as if sheer willpower could keep him from slipping away.
His crimson eyes burned with a fierce, protective light.
“I’ve got you. I won’t let this curse take you, do you hear me?”
His words were firm, but gentled at the edges, meant to steady
the trembling in Elias’s frame. “Breathe… just breathe. Let me
carry you if I have to.”
He lowered his voice, close to Elias’s ear, a vow meant only for
him. “I’ll find a way to stop this. Whatever it takes.” He said
as he moved to scoop the man up. He needed to talk to Ender, and
figure out how to break the curse that plagued Elias. “I’ll get
you to the bedroom so you can least be laying down.” He said as
he moved.
—
Elias shuddered in Draven’s arms, his breath ragged and uneven.
His fingers curled weakly into the fabric of Draven’s shirt,
clinging as though afraid he might be swept away entirely.
“I-it’s… it’s okay,” Elias rasped, forcing the words past
clenched teeth. His voice trembled but held a fragile thread of
determination. “These… these attacks—” A sharp gasp broke his
sentence as another wave of pain wracked his body, his back
arching involuntarily.
“They… they don’t last long,” he managed at last, his eyelids
fluttering as he fought to stay conscious. “It’s… it’s like the
curse waits until I’m… happy. Like it wants to remind me it’s
there. That I don’t get to… to forget it.”
A bitter, pained laugh escaped him, quickly dissolving into a
groan as he sagged against Draven’s chest. “When I’m… in a good
mood, when I—when I feel alive…” His voice broke, barely audible
now. “That’s when it strikes hardest.”
He shifted slightly in Draven’s hold, trying to lift his head
enough to meet the vampire’s crimson gaze. His own eyes were
glassy with tears, but there was a flicker of quiet strength
beneath the pain.
“Just… just hold me steady until it passes,” Elias whispered.
“It will fade soon. It always does.”
Even as he spoke, his body trembled violently, the curse
clinging to him like a cruel, unseen hand. But there was trust
there, too—trust that Draven would keep him grounded through the
storm.
"Laying down...might help some,"
-
Draven’s eyes flickered with a rare hint of panic as he guided
Elias to his room, his arms firm yet careful. “Alfred! Cool
water and a rag, now!” he barked over his shoulder, the usually
composed vampire shaken by Elias’s pallor.
He hadn’t even realized where he’d taken him until the familiar
scent and shadows of his own chambers surrounded them. A deep
flush crept across his face, but he ignored it, gently lowering
Elias onto the silk sheets. The contrast of Elias’s trembling
form against the dark crimson bedspread made his heart twist.
“Easy… just take it easy,” Draven murmured, fussing with the
blanket, tucking it around Elias with hands that trembled more
than he’d like to admit. He brushed damp hair from the young
man’s forehead, his voice softening. “You’re safe here. Just…
let it pass.”
Alfred appeared quietly in the doorway with the requested items,
but Draven barely acknowledged him, too focused on the rise and
fall of Elias’s fragile chest. He busily got
Him out of the shirt and shoes at least. He dabbed at his skin
with the cool cloth, murmuring reassurances with every stroke,
his own heart pounding in tandem with the man’s uneven breaths.
“Take your time,” he whispered, a silent vow buried in the
words. “I’ll handle everything. You can talk, and I’ll talk to
my friends.”
His hands worked to place the rag on the man’s forehead to sit
and asked for the cell phone from Alfred, and something to drink
for Elias when he needed it.
—
Elias writhed weakly against the silken sheets, his breath
coming in sharp, shallow gasps. The cool cloth against his
forehead should have been soothing, but the pain lanced deeper
than before, twisting through his chest like burning chains
pulling tighter.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand fumbling until it found
Draven’s wrist. His grip was shaky, trembling, but insistent.
“D-Draven…” His voice cracked, raw with pain. “It’s not—fading.
Not like before.”
His body arched as another wave tore through him, his face
paling until he looked almost translucent in the lamplight. “I…
I was happy,” he choked, a tear slipping down the corner of his
eye. “It’s punishing me for that. The closer I get to… feeling
alive—the more it takes.”
His fingers curled tighter around Draven’s sleeve, desperate to
anchor himself. “I don’t want to lose this,” he whispered
hoarsely, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose you—”
His words cut off into a strangled cry, his body shuddering
violently. The curse’s grip seemed relentless this time, holding
on longer, harsher, as if mocking every flicker of warmth he’d
let himself feel.
But through it all, Elias clung to Draven, refusing to let go,
his breath ragged and voice fading. “Please… just stay—stay with
me—”
-
Draven’s jaw tightened as he felt Elias’s frail grip clutching
at his wrist, the faint pulse beneath his skin thrumming like a
fragile heartbeat against the coolness of his own undead flesh.
The lamplight flickered across his face, casting long, predatory
shadows that sharpened the lines of his cheekbones and deepened
the storm within his eyes. He leaned closer, until his forehead
nearly brushed Elias’s, his voice rolling out in a low, velvety
rumble that carried an unnatural calm.
“I’m here,” Draven said, each word dripping with the weight of
ages. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me?” His gloved hand
engulfed Elias’s trembling one, firm but gentle, a cold anchor
in the swirl of dark magic threatening to pull him under.
The curse writhed through Elias’s body, and Draven could feel it
as though tasting the icy threads of dark energy in the air,
brushing against the edges of his heightened senses. His
heart—or what was left of it—twisted with a pang older than any
mortal sorrow, but his tone never faltered. “You won’t lose me.
Whatever it takes, I will hold you here, in this life… in my
grasp.”
He shifted closer, his body unnervingly still yet radiating a
supernatural heat that seeped into the shivering form in his
arms. “Breathe, Elias,” he murmured, voice like a whisper of
midnight wind. “Let the darkness rage, let it claw and take—but
it will not win. Not while I am bound to you.”
A rare, aching tenderness softened his words as his cool lips
brushed Elias’s damp hair, offering a promise older than death.
“Stay with me… just a little longer. I will not leave your side.
When it’s over- we are going to see a friend of mine.”
—
Elias’s eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion, his breaths
shallow as he fought to hold on to the sound of Draven’s voice
anchoring him. The curse clawed at him, dragging him toward the
dark edge, but he forced himself to speak, his words strained
and broken.
“I… I remember,” he rasped, his voice trembling like glass about
to shatter. “My father—when I was little… I saw what this did to
him. The way he would shake, the screams he tried to hide.” His
eyes glazed with pain, but also with the raw echo of memory.
“It… it carved him down until he was just a shadow.”
A faint whimper slipped out as another jolt wracked his body,
but he gripped Draven’s wrist tighter, desperate. “I swore—I
swore I’d never put anyone through that. Never… risk giving this
curse to a child. I told myself I’d never…” His throat closed
around the words, but he forced them out in a ragged whisper.
“Never have a family. Not if it meant passing this on.”
A tear slid down his cheek, hot against skin gone too pale. His
lips moved as though to say more, but only a faint whisper
followed, broken by the weight of exhaustion: “I don’t want
anyone to suffer like he did… like I do.”
His head sagged against Draven’s chest, the last of his strength
spent in the confession, leaving him trembling and barely awake,
but still clinging—still fighting to stay tethered to the one
holding him.
-
Draven’s jaw tensed as he listened, the weight of Elias’s words
sinking like stones in his chest. He shifted slightly, one arm
bracing the trembling figure against him, the other hand
covering Elias’s grip on his wrist, steady and grounding.
“Elias…” he said softly, his voice lined with a rare, raw
concern. “I can hear how deep this curse runs, and what it’s
taken from you. But listen to me—this isn’t the end. I know
people… people who have faced things like this before. And I
swear to you, I’ll find someone who can break it.”
He leaned closer, letting his voice be the anchor Elias clung
to. “I know a spell weaver personally—has enormous potential. If
anyone can unravel the chains of this curse, it’s her. I’ll see
if we can arrange things, and we’ll fight this together. You
won’t go through this alone, not anymore.”
He watched as the man’s head sagged, him holding Elias closer to
call for a butler and a phone.
Draven tightened his embrace, a firm promise in the strength of
his arms. “I’m not letting this curse take you. Not now. Not
ever.”
---
The world came back to Elias slowly—first the faint hum of
morning sounds filtering past the dark heavy curtains, then the
steady rhythm of another presence nearby. His body ached but not
in the same sharp, unbearable way as before; now it was a dull
ache, like the echo of distant thunder.
Weight pressed against his side, steady and grounding. It took
him a moment to realize what it was—Draven’s arm, still wrapped
securely around him, his cool skin a strange comfort after so
much burning pain.
Elias turned his head slightly, the faint scent of silk and
smoke filling his senses. His vision focused enough to find the
vampire’s face, calm in rest—or perhaps in quiet vigilance. For
a moment, he just watched, taking in the details: the faint
shadow beneath Draven’s eyes, the loosened collar of his shirt,
the hint of softness that lingered in his expression even now.
Then a small, contented noise drew his gaze downward. At the
foot of the bed, Buttercup—his fluffy golden cat—was curled up
neatly, tail flicking once as if acknowledging her master’s
survival before settling again. The sight drew a weak smile from
Elias, relief washing through him.
He swallowed, his voice hoarse but steady as he murmured, “Thank
you… for staying with me.”
His fingers twitched against the sheets, wanting to reach for
Draven but hesitating. “You didn’t have to—but you did. I…
remember what you said. About finding help.” His voice softened,
sincerity threading through each word. “I believe you, Draven.
For the first time in a long while… I think I really believe
someone can help.”
Elias’s gaze lingered on him, the faintest trace of warmth
rising in his cheeks again. “I hope you got some rest too,” he
added quietly, a hint of fondness in his tired smile. “You look
like you’ve been fighting ghosts all night.”
-
#Post#: 1214--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 5:19 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Draven’s eyes opened slowly, the faintest curve of a smile
touching his lips as he met Elias’s gaze. His voice was low and
steady, carrying that familiar undertone of reassurance.
“I did,” he said softly. “I managed to reach an old
friend—someone who knows more about these kinds of… afflictions
than I ever could. We can go to them and get this done, and you
can be free .”
He brushed his thumb lightly across the back of Elias’s hand, a
brief, grounding gesture before he eased himself upright. “I
stayed because I wanted to see you open your eyes without that
shadow over you.”
---
-curse was broken in another rp, will link to it here-
The morning had deepened by the time they left Elysium, the city
streets quiet under the pale moonlight. Draven walked alongside
Elias, a steady hand lightly resting at his back when he
faltered. The air felt different—fresh, expansive—as if the
weight that had haunted him had lifted with the night.
When they reached the familiar door of Elias’s home, Draven
paused, his gaze softening. “I’m glad,” he said, his voice warm
with unguarded relief. “I’m glad it’s over. That curse stole too
much from you… now, you can live again. Really live, without
fear or pain holding you back.”
He studied Elias for a moment, a quiet pride in his eyes. “This
is your life now, free and whole. Don’t let anything take that
from you.”
A hint of a smile tugged at Draven’s lips as he stepped back,
letting the golden light of morning settle around them both.
“Given what happened to your home- you can continue to stay
here.. and maybe.. spend more time together?” He asked softly.
—
Elias paused just outside the door, the faint morning light
catching in his hair as he looked up at Draven. For a moment, he
didn’t seem to know what to say—caught between surprise,
gratitude, and a shy, almost bashful warmth that softened his
expression.
“Live with you…?” he echoed, his voice gentle, uncertain but
touched with something hopeful. His lips curved into a faint,
self-conscious smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you
sure you want me to move in already? We’ve only had one
date—unless you’re counting that dance in your garden.”
A quiet laugh slipped past his lips, soft and genuine. “If you
are counting it, then I suppose that makes two.”
He glanced toward the horizon, where the last of the night’s
mist clung to the rooftops, before meeting Draven’s eyes again.
“I mean… it’d be easy to say yes. Your home is beautiful—and I
do enjoy spending time with you.” His tone softened even
further, a thread of sincerity weaving through it. “More than I
probably should.”
Elias hesitated, then added, quieter, “I just don’t want to
overstep. But… if you’re certain—if you really want me there—I
think I’d like that. To stay. For a while.”
-
Draven’s fingers flexed slightly against Elias’s arm, reluctant
to let go, as if the man’s words had woven some invisible tether
between them. Something in the way Elias said his name—soft,
almost reverent—sent a pulse of heat through Draven’s chest. He
didn’t fully understand why, didn’t want to; the pull was there,
undeniable.
He leaned in, close enough that Elias could feel the whisper of
his breath, his voice dropping to something low and rough. “You
have no idea what you do to me, Elias.” His gaze flicked briefly
to Elias’s lips, and for one suspended heartbeat, he seemed to
toy with the idea of closing that last inch between them.
Instead, Draven’s mouth hovered just shy of a kiss, a silent
promise or a tease, before he drew back with a sharp inhale,
like a man stepping away from a precipice. His hand lingered a
moment longer on Elias’s arm, unwilling to sever that warmth.
“If anything- I do want you to focus on recovery. The curse may
be gone but your body needs time, and I want to help.” He said
softly.
—
#Post#: 1215--------------------------------------------------
Re: Rp- Blind Fate
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 5:32 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Elias’s breath caught, the air between them suddenly too thick,
too charged. The way Draven’s gaze lingered—how close his voice
brushed his skin—sent a flutter through his chest that felt far
too alive.
For a moment, he just looked at him, taking in the faint color
that had crept into the vampire’s otherwise still features, the
careful restraint in his every movement. And maybe it was that
restraint—how hard Draven was fighting it—that gave Elias the
courage to speak.
His voice came out quiet but steady, edged with something
softer, something dangerous. “You can kiss me,” he murmured, the
words slipping free before he could second-guess them. A faint
smile ghosted across his lips. “I don’t mind.”
He tilted his chin up just slightly, enough that their breaths
mingled, enough that the invitation was clear but not demanding.
“Unless,” Elias added, the smallest spark of mischief glinting
in his eyes, “you’d rather keep torturing me with your patience
instead.”
Despite the lingering traces of exhaustion, his tone carried a
fragile warmth, a touch of playfulness that hadn’t been there
before—like he was remembering what it felt like to flirt, to
live, and not just survive.
-
Draven hesitated, the corner of his mouth twitching in a rare
flicker of uncertainty. His pale cheeks carried the faintest
hint of color, and he glanced aside before letting his eyes
return to Elias.
“You… you should probably get some rest,” he said, the words
soft, almost careful. “I can… take you to bed, make sure you’re
comfortable.”
It wasn’t until the last syllable left his lips that he realized
how it sounded. A faint, almost imperceptible stiffness ran
through his shoulders, and a throat-clearing cough followed, as
if he could erase the weight of the implication. His gaze
flicked away again, the blush deepening against his otherwise
composed exterior.
“I mean—so you can sleep,” he clarified quickly, voice lower
now, just shy of flustered. “You need to recover.”
Still, that restraint in his movements wavered, and for a
heartbeat, the air between them seemed to hum with something
unspoken, something that neither of them could quite bring
themselves to name.
—
Elias hadn’t planned to move. He hadn’t even planned to speak.
But something inside him—something that had been quiet for far
too long—rose up before he could think to stop it.
Draven’s flustered attempt to recover his composure, the way
he’d said take you to bed and immediately stumbled over
himself—it was endearing in a way that twisted warmth into
Elias’s chest. For someone who’d lived so long in control,
Draven’s uncertainty was… human. And that humanity drew Elias in
like a flame in the dark.
He could still feel the faint tremor in his own hands, but for
once, he didn’t let it stop him. He’d spent a lifetime
hesitating—waiting for the right moment, the safe moment—and
every time he did, life took something else from him. His
freedom. His father. His peace. His chance at joy.
Not this time.
He reached out before he could lose his nerve, fingers curling
into the fabric of Draven’s shirt. The cool material bunched
beneath his grasp as he tugged, closing the small distance
between them with a sudden, breathless certainty.
“Well…” Elias murmured, his voice unsteady but sure, “I’ve been
thinking of kissing you.” His heart thudded hard enough that it
almost hurt, but he didn’t look away. “And I’m done waiting.”
The kiss he gave was soft—gentle, deliberate, but full of a
quiet defiance. It wasn’t a plea or a test. It was a statement.
A promise that, for once, he would reach for something he wanted
and not apologize for it.
When he finally drew back, his lips tingled and his breath came
fast, like he’d stepped into sunlight after years of shadow. His
face burned, his pulse wild, but his eyes held steady on
Draven’s.
“I’ve lived my life being restrained and cautious,” he
confessed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and relief.
“Always afraid to take chances… especially with people I care
about.” His throat tightened around the words, but he didn’t
back down. “I’m not doing that anymore. I like you, Draven. More
than I’ve ever liked anyone before.”
The honesty hung between them, fragile and alive, the space
still humming with the echo of the kiss he’d dared to steal.
-
Draven blinked, utterly still for a heartbeat that felt like it
lasted forever. His mind scrambled, a storm of shock and warmth
and something dizzyingly bright that stole the air from his
lungs. Elias—steady, careful, seemed to him, holding himself
back—had just kissed him. Him.
“I…” Draven started, the word cracking in the middle. He
swallowed hard, his hand instinctively rising to his chest as if
to quiet the wild pounding there. “Wow. I—I wasn’t expecting
that.” His voice tripped over itself, but there was no hiding
the soft, almost giddy curve to his lips. He was smiling before
he even realized it.
For a man used to control, composure felt impossible with
Elias’s confession hanging in the air, raw and real. His cheeks
were hot—he was certain of it—and he laughed under his breath,
an incredulous, breathless sound. “You—you like me?” The
question sounded absurd even as it fell from his tongue, and yet
he couldn’t help but ask, needing to hear it again.
He took a small step closer, tentative but drawn in by the
warmth of what had just happened. “I… I like you too. More than
I’ve let myself admit.” His hand twitched, like he wanted to
reach for Elias but didn’t quite trust himself not to shake. “I
just… I wasn’t sure if you’d mind an immortal—” He broke off, a
nervous chuckle spilling out. “God, I’m so happy right now, and
I don’t even know what to do with it.”
—
Elias blinked, his heart still hammering from everything Draven
had just said. A nervous, breathless laugh escaped him before he
could stop it. “You really do like me,” he murmured, as if
needing to hear it again to make it real.
Then, with a spark of boldness that surprised even himself, he
added softly, “Good. Because I meant what I said, Draven. I like
you—” the words deepened, his voice quiet but full of emotion,
“—so much more than I probably should.”
Before Draven could reply, Elias leaned forward on instinct,
closing the space between them to press a soft kiss to his
cheek. It lingered for a heartbeat longer than it should
have—warm, reverent, and impossibly tender.
Elias’s face went crimson, his pulse still racing from the kiss
and everything that had followed. For a moment, he could only
stare, caught somewhere between disbelief and giddy relief.
Draven’s words echoed in his head—I like you too—and it made his
chest feel like it might burst.
“Mind?” Elias repeated, his voice cracking slightly with nervous
laughter. “Not in the slightest bit.” He reached up to rub the
back of his neck, his fingers brushing the faint heat still
lingering there. “Though… I’ll admit it’s a little
intimidating.”
His lips curved into a shy, crooked smile. “You’re this—this
charming, impossibly attractive vampire who moves like he’s
stepped out of a dream, and I’m just… me.” His tone softened,
the teasing edge fading into something more vulnerable. “The
quiet one who spends more time talking to his cat than to
people.”
Elias hesitated, then stepped just a little closer, his gaze
flicking to Draven’s eyes. “But the truth is… I’ve never felt
safer with anyone than I do with you. Immortal or not.” His
blush deepened as he added, almost shyly, “And, well… if you’re
happy right now, then I guess I’m doing something right.”
He smiled then, warm and a little bashful, as if the world had
tilted in his favor for the first time in years.
-
Draven’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile as Elias’s
words hung in the cool night air. He didn’t speak, just reached
out and gently took Elias’s hand, the silent gesture carrying
all the reassurance words could not. Together, they began the
quiet walk back toward Draven’s estate, the moonlight their only
guide as the night deepened around them.
In time- they crossed the threshold of the grand, shadowy hall
of his home. Draven glanced down at him, an almost imperceptible
fondness in his gaze, and with an effortless motion, he closed
the door behind them. The outside world slipped away, leaving
the soft hush of the mansion and the faint crackle of the hearth
in distant rooms.
He led Elias through the quiet corridors, past tall windows
where the stars shimmered like scattered silver. At last, they
reached the guest wing, and Draven opened the door to Elias’s
room.
“Sleep well,” Draven murmured, brushing a lock of hair from
Elias’s forehead in a touch so fleeting it felt like a secret.
—
Elias’s lips curved into a soft smile at the touch, his eyes
lingering on Draven’s face for a moment longer than he probably
should have. The faint blush returned to his cheeks, the kind
that even the dim light of the hall couldn’t hide.
“I’ll try,” he murmured, voice low but carrying that familiar
note of playful honesty. “Though thinking about you might make
that impossible.”
He gave a quiet, sheepish laugh, then stepped into the room,
glancing back once more before the door closed. For a long
while, he stood there in the dim glow of the fireplace, the
warmth of Draven’s touch still ghosting against his skin.
He lay down, meaning to rest, but his mind refused the command.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of the
night—Draven’s smile, his voice, the feel of his hand, the way
his eyes softened when he said goodnight. Sleep, as always,
remained elusive.
After an hour or two of tossing beneath the silk sheets, Elias
sighed quietly and slipped from bed, the soft whisper of his
footsteps barely breaking the stillness of the house. Buttercup
stirred but didn’t follow; she knew this routine well.
The corridors were bathed in moonlight as Elias made his way to
the study. The familiar scent of parchment, ink, and faint
candle wax greeted him as he settled into the large chair by the
desk. He lit a single lamp, the warm glow spilling over a
half-finished sketch and several open books.
He exhaled slowly, letting the quiet envelope him, and murmured
under his breath, “Just for a while. Then I’ll rest.”
But as the minutes passed, his pen found the page again—lines
and thoughts flowing restlessly, his mind returning, again and
again, to the man whose presence had somehow made the night both
heavier and brighter all at once.
-
A soft creak of the study door broke the stillness,“Can’t
sleep?” Draven’s voice was low, threaded with quiet curiosity,
and perhaps just a touch of concern. He stepped into the room,
his gaze flicking from the scattered papers to Elias’s restless
hands.
Draven crossed the room slowly, the soft tread of his boots
barely audible on the rug. He stopped beside Elias’s chair,
leaning a hand against the backrest.
—
Elias looked up from the desk, his pen pausing mid-stroke. The
faint glow of the lamp painted soft gold over his tired
features.
“Me and sleep are at odds most nights,” he said, voice low but
carrying a hint of humor. “I did warn you I was a night owl.”
He leaned back slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck as his
eyes drifted to the notes scattered across the table. “I’ll
probably pass out mid-afternoon out of sheer exhaustion,” he
admitted with a tired smile. “It’s not that I don’t try. It’s
just—sometimes things get stuck in my head and won’t let go.”
Elias’s gaze flicked toward Draven, a faint warmth softening his
expression. “I’m not exactly a typical human anymore, am I?
Between the curse, the sleepless nights, and all the strange
thoughts that come with them…” He trailed off, shaking his head
gently. “This is just how I am.”
He gestured loosely at the papers in front of him. “At least it
keeps me productive. Besides—quiet nights are easier to think
through when someone else is awake too.”
-
Draven leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as he
watched Elias speak. The flicker of the lamplight caught in his
eyes, reflecting a glimmer that was more amused than concerned.
“Typical human?” Draven’s voice was smooth, carrying a thread of
dry humor. “You gave up that title a long time ago, Elias. And
honestly, I’m not sure you ever wore it well to begin with.”
He stepped closer, the subtle weight of his presence filling the
quiet room. “Curses, sleepless nights, strange thoughts… sounds
like you’re finally catching up to my way of living.” His lips
tugged into a faint, knowing smirk. “Though I can’t say I
recommend passing out mid-afternoon. Not very dignified.”
Draven’s gaze swept over the scattered papers, then back to
Elias. “Still, if the night keeps you sharp, let it. The world
sleeps; we don’t. That’s our advantage.” He tilted his head
slightly, his voice softening as he added, “And you’re
right—it’s easier when someone else is here. Even if we’re both
a little… wrong by the world’s standards.”
He paused, letting the words settle in the lamplight. “So, get
your thoughts out while you can. Morning always ruins the
magic.”
—
Elias’s lips curved into a faint smile, the lamplight catching
the glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe we could make some
of our own magic,” he murmured, the words soft but daring, as he
looked up at Draven through his lashes.
He reached out before he could second-guess himself, his fingers
brushing the front of Draven’s shirt before catching the fabric
gently between them. The move was hesitant at first—testing,
uncertain—but there was purpose behind it. A silent invitation.
“You talk about the night like it belongs to us,” Elias
continued, voice low and almost playful. “So why not prove it?”
His hand tugged just slightly, enough to close the distance
between them by a breath. “I don’t think the world will miss us
for a few hours.”
He held Draven’s gaze, his pulse quickening, the air between
them thick with unspoken promise. There was warmth in his tone,
but also that flicker of sincerity that always lived just
beneath his teasing. “If the morning ruins the magic,” he
whispered, “then maybe we should enjoy it while it lasts.”
-
Draven’s eyes softened, a slow smile tugging at the corner of
his lips as he studied Elias in the dim lamplight. “You really
don’t play fair,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, each word
thick with quiet amusement. He tilted his head slightly, as if
weighing a decision, letting the silence stretch between them
just long enough for anticipation to bloom.
“Maybe,” Draven said finally, his tone teasing yet sincere, “if
you’re up for a little… fun, we could see what this night has in
store for us.”
He shifted closer, the space between them shrinking until Elias
could feel the brush of his breath. His hand came up, gently
curling around Elias’s jaw, his thumb brushing the edge of his
cheekbone. Draven’s gaze flicked briefly to his lips, then back
to his eyes, as if asking one last, silent question.
And when Elias didn’t pull away, Draven leaned in, pressing a
soft, lingering kiss to his mouth—tender, unhurried, and full of
the promise that the night was theirs to claim.
—
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