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WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME:
LAURALAE
text ❖ audio ❖ video
WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK
USERNAME:
LAURALAE
text ❖ audio ❖ video
[ In the middle of the chaos, a little bottle (glass, with a delicate silver stopper, no bigger than her palm) appears outside of Lauralae's door. It's filled, as will be evident as soon as she tries opening it, with perfume. A black velvet ribbon has been tied around its neck, and upon one of its loose ends, embroidered in silver thread: NIGHT, DARK, WILD.
I like things that remind me of the forest, she'd said. Leaves, dirt, plants, bark. So the perfume the bottle carries smells— black, green, moss. Like the dampness of being alive, like the cycle of birth and decay. Certainly not an easy fragrance — not the type, anyway, to achieve any real commercial success — but one he's mixed to attempt to capture the sentiments she'd expressed. ]
I like things that remind me of the forest, she'd said. Leaves, dirt, plants, bark. So the perfume the bottle carries smells— black, green, moss. Like the dampness of being alive, like the cycle of birth and decay. Certainly not an easy fragrance — not the type, anyway, to achieve any real commercial success — but one he's mixed to attempt to capture the sentiments she'd expressed. ]
i will answer any and all questions you have, with truth only.
in return, you will aid me in gifting apologies to those harmed.
[ She deliberately doesn’t quantity either; he could ask her any question of herself, of the game, of her memories, and her hearts bargain would beg her honesty. She gives no time limit for gifts for the people hurt either. Just in case. ]
in return, you will aid me in gifting apologies to those harmed.
[ She deliberately doesn’t quantity either; he could ask her any question of herself, of the game, of her memories, and her hearts bargain would beg her honesty. She gives no time limit for gifts for the people hurt either. Just in case. ]
what do you want or need, little bird? i’m coming down with a care package
[ A regular visitor to the cells, Armand isn't unfamiliar with the sight of Lauralae turned in on herself, trying to hide from the world or her own memories. He can't blame her for it, as much as he doesn't like to see her that way.
One night, in the deepest and coldest hours before dawn, after he's spoken to Louis, he makes his way over to stand close by the place where she's huddled near Lucifer. Her protector earns a glance only; after a moment, he crouches down, studying Lauralae in the darkness. His vampire senses let him know she's not sleeping.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded object, which he holds out to her through the bars -- a pair of long opera gloves like the ones she prefers, soft and old silk, but clean. He knows well how small luxuries can seem far more important when one is confined and heartbroken. ]
One night, in the deepest and coldest hours before dawn, after he's spoken to Louis, he makes his way over to stand close by the place where she's huddled near Lucifer. Her protector earns a glance only; after a moment, he crouches down, studying Lauralae in the darkness. His vampire senses let him know she's not sleeping.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded object, which he holds out to her through the bars -- a pair of long opera gloves like the ones she prefers, soft and old silk, but clean. He knows well how small luxuries can seem far more important when one is confined and heartbroken. ]
[ It has been difficult.
Being taken from her self-given penance to the prison had done little to ensure comfort for Lauralae, and she had hoped that the strange medicines this place offers her would last long enough to give her some peace. It had not been so, of course, and perhaps it had been foolish of her to think it might; the people here have been kind to her, but the house itself? There is crueller magic there.
She does not dare permit herself to be near anyone, even Luci, who might welcome the burn of pain her touch offers. With no medication and no covering for her lithe little fingers, the pain she offers is reflected in kind, pinpricks of pain directly to her own mind. Even the barest brush of her fingers over skin is enough to have her close to weeping, so unused to the agony of it after so many years of hurt isolation.
It’s that thought that clings to her as she hears the shift of moment, not expecting anyone to come for her. For all that she has the sweetest of bonds here, Lauralae does not trust in it nor herself enough to dare call it friendship. The others may have guest and visitor both; having her own shocks her to her sore and tender heart.
When she realises who has come to her, what her gift is, her eyes widen into bright sparks of fizzling joy, warring with her grief. She’s careful as she reaches for them, refusing to even come close to the possibility of her touch grazing Armand’s skin and causing him pain. Her own means nothing in the wake of such simple and sweet kindness.
Voice hoarse, from crying and disuse together, she speaks, tugging the gloves on and sinking into relief. ]
Thank you. [ It’s the most comfortable she has looked since she was thrown in here, despite the warmth of Alia and Lucifer to soothe her. ] I will repay your kindness.
Being taken from her self-given penance to the prison had done little to ensure comfort for Lauralae, and she had hoped that the strange medicines this place offers her would last long enough to give her some peace. It had not been so, of course, and perhaps it had been foolish of her to think it might; the people here have been kind to her, but the house itself? There is crueller magic there.
She does not dare permit herself to be near anyone, even Luci, who might welcome the burn of pain her touch offers. With no medication and no covering for her lithe little fingers, the pain she offers is reflected in kind, pinpricks of pain directly to her own mind. Even the barest brush of her fingers over skin is enough to have her close to weeping, so unused to the agony of it after so many years of hurt isolation.
It’s that thought that clings to her as she hears the shift of moment, not expecting anyone to come for her. For all that she has the sweetest of bonds here, Lauralae does not trust in it nor herself enough to dare call it friendship. The others may have guest and visitor both; having her own shocks her to her sore and tender heart.
When she realises who has come to her, what her gift is, her eyes widen into bright sparks of fizzling joy, warring with her grief. She’s careful as she reaches for them, refusing to even come close to the possibility of her touch grazing Armand’s skin and causing him pain. Her own means nothing in the wake of such simple and sweet kindness.
Voice hoarse, from crying and disuse together, she speaks, tugging the gloves on and sinking into relief. ]
Thank you. [ It’s the most comfortable she has looked since she was thrown in here, despite the warmth of Alia and Lucifer to soothe her. ] I will repay your kindness.
You owe nothing.
[ Armand keeps his voice soft, though there's little need -- most of the others in the cell with Lauralae neither desire nor need sleep. But he wants to keep this small moment as private as he can, even if he's sure Lucifer and Louis at least will be listening in. The attempt is made, at least.
He watches her closely, hearing the difference in her heart rate, the release of tension of her body as she relaxes, the pain lessening. He's glad to be able to offer that much comfort, as paltry as it feels in comparison to the cruelty of the game.
His gaze cuts sideways as he glances over at Louis, then back to Lauralae, pupils reflecting some of the dim light from the television screen and pinball machines. ]
Lauralae. I would offer you a little of my blood. It may keep the worst at bay.
[ Armand keeps his voice soft, though there's little need -- most of the others in the cell with Lauralae neither desire nor need sleep. But he wants to keep this small moment as private as he can, even if he's sure Lucifer and Louis at least will be listening in. The attempt is made, at least.
He watches her closely, hearing the difference in her heart rate, the release of tension of her body as she relaxes, the pain lessening. He's glad to be able to offer that much comfort, as paltry as it feels in comparison to the cruelty of the game.
His gaze cuts sideways as he glances over at Louis, then back to Lauralae, pupils reflecting some of the dim light from the television screen and pinball machines. ]
Lauralae. I would offer you a little of my blood. It may keep the worst at bay.
[ To owe nothing discomforts her, leaves her feeling like her teeth are chomping on broken glass, unsure and alien to her. When she had offered him her blood, she had been given tenderness and pleasure in return. An equal and fair trade in the mind of a creature borne of pact and bargain rather than soft acts of kindness.
Her eyes try to follow his, dark darting dots flickering over the room, to the others. She knows he knows Luci, had spoken of him when they sat together in pleasure, and she recognises Louis from their own joint ventures. Connections begin to forge in her mind, a little wolf pack that curls in her gut with warmth.
Lauralae had only ever felt like she had belonged once before, and it had been stolen. To have it again is relief as much as it is torment.
Slowly, her breathing coming a little quicker, she swallows. ]
Why - why would I have need of it?
[ As if it is not tormenting her. ]
Her eyes try to follow his, dark darting dots flickering over the room, to the others. She knows he knows Luci, had spoken of him when they sat together in pleasure, and she recognises Louis from their own joint ventures. Connections begin to forge in her mind, a little wolf pack that curls in her gut with warmth.
Lauralae had only ever felt like she had belonged once before, and it had been stolen. To have it again is relief as much as it is torment.
Slowly, her breathing coming a little quicker, she swallows. ]
Why - why would I have need of it?
[ As if it is not tormenting her. ]
I can sense your pain. The magic in your mind.
[ Through the paper-thin connection, like a gossamer ribbon, since he tasted her blood. But he would have been able to feel it without that link, well aware of what a body does when it's hurting, what it tastes and sounds like. ]
If you taste my blood, it may give you a little strength, to help you withstand the hurt. It has healing properties. But it may also give you disturbing dreams. A longing for more. And we would be connected, you and I.
[ Through the paper-thin connection, like a gossamer ribbon, since he tasted her blood. But he would have been able to feel it without that link, well aware of what a body does when it's hurting, what it tastes and sounds like. ]
If you taste my blood, it may give you a little strength, to help you withstand the hurt. It has healing properties. But it may also give you disturbing dreams. A longing for more. And we would be connected, you and I.
ooookay let’s try again
if i bring some blankets from my room, would you use em? or eat anything i bring?
you do deserve comforts, lae
if i bring some blankets from my room, would you use em? or eat anything i bring?
you do deserve comforts, lae
I have had strange dreams before now. I required potion and herbs to sleep well.
[ Nightmares, even before her time as a wolf in this game, some monster to be pitied and hated at once. Lauralae takes no issue with offering blood, would not shame a vampire for seeking it for himself, but she has spent so long wishing herself less monstrous.
She does not know how to muster the strength to consider that she may be one, beyond this dark trick.
Slowly, she nods her head, eyes damp, bleak. ]
I would try it. Yours for mine, when you feel the ache of hunger.
[ Nightmares, even before her time as a wolf in this game, some monster to be pitied and hated at once. Lauralae takes no issue with offering blood, would not shame a vampire for seeking it for himself, but she has spent so long wishing herself less monstrous.
She does not know how to muster the strength to consider that she may be one, beyond this dark trick.
Slowly, she nods her head, eyes damp, bleak. ]
I would try it. Yours for mine, when you feel the ache of hunger.
one blanket coming up ( he’ll throw a shirt in there too )
i’ll bring something for the smell too… so you don’t have to deal with— yeah. ( with danny, dead in the other cell. he can’t say it. )
i’ll bring something for the smell too… so you don’t have to deal with— yeah. ( with danny, dead in the other cell. he can’t say it. )
yeah… i was thinking they’d move him but i think jem might bite anyone who tries
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