Remind Me of the Heart(LittleRabbitXPotassiumboron)

A low groan of annoyance left that woman's throat ad Chaol insisted that these interactions were Elora's fault. That if she would just stop reacting, remained calm to his teases, his playful treatment of her—then he would lose interest. Perhaps he would even claim another victim whom he could flirt with, that he could get riled up.
However, Elora didn't want that. Selfishly she wanted to be the only one he teased like that. The only one he felt comfortable enough to pin against a wall, or press his lips to their ear. To have his wordy breaths tickle and chill her body. As much as she would complain or try to deny he had any effect on her, the ultimate truth was—she just couldn't.
She craved more intimacy from the man—despite everything that happened the night before. There was still a yearning that was hard to explain, and she didn't know just how much longer she could keep herself from pressing her lips against his. Encouraging him to continue until they both had their fill.

Just how much longer until one or both of them snapped?

Her darker thoughts concluding that she wouldn't even mind being friends with benefits with the man before her. Yet that was something she'd have to explain to Chaol, and she was sure he would not agree to such things. Seeing as he still kept the virtues of his time period alive and well.
So much so, that she was sure he would never disrobe in front of her. The smug little smile of hers—believing she had bested him at his own game, quickly disappearing as he tossed the towel aside.
A sharp, unexpected gasp leaving the young woman's mouth. Staring at him in all his glory before quickly casing her gaze aside. Turning her back to the man so he couldn't see the feverish blush on her face. So he couldn't tease her more than he had. So she wouldn't stare at the man with the most indecent thoughts running rampant through her mind.

"Okay, yup sounds great." Elora hurriedly agreed, clearly not processing what the man had said. Quickly she dashed out of his room, reaching her own just to firmly close the door and throw herself onto her bed. Heart racing as she tried to calm herself.
Eventually, the woman had came back downstairs. This time, however, Elora opted to wear a long-sleeved crop top, and jeans that perhaps fit a little too snug. The woman deciding if Chaol could tease her as he had, then she could at least do the same by showing a little bit of skin.

When she made it back into the dining room, food and drink in hand—she began to eat like nothing had changed. "I thought about what you said, and I'm really excited to watch the Twilight movies with you. We will see how many we can get through. I think there are like four or five altogether."
 
The reaction from Elora didn't meet the expectations that Chaol had hoped to see fulfilled. On the contrary, the response he gathered from his actions and all the flirtatiousness they contributed to smashed said expectations, bettering anything the vampire had anticipated with ease. Rather than simply blush and avert her gaze, Elora's racing heart and the hurried nature of her departure from the room only served to make Chaol wildly grin in satisfaction, his mind whirring with thoughts of how deep her blush stained her cheeks as she flew to the privacy of her bedroom, hiding the obviousness of her attraction from view.

He was tempted to arrive to her bedroom to perpetuate the flirtation; to exacerbate its effects and cave to his desires there and then. He didn't want to be the first to crack, wanting to be able to hold it over Elora's head that she was the first to fall to her desires and put them into action, but he wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold on when every second in Elora's company without acting on the thoughts that steadily grew more intense in nature required a grip on his control that he felt gradually slipping from him whenever she was around him.

Whenever he had to take in her full lips parting into a smile, the depth of her eyes framed by long eyelashes, the tresses of her blonde hair falling over slender shoulders, the dip of her waist and curve of her hips--

It was torturous to restrain himself from resting a hand to her lower back, pulling her into his embrace and showering her with every ounce of attention he had to offer-- but he wasn't going to be the one to crack.

No, he was insistent that she be the one to cave first; to be the one who had to endure the teases that followed it for the remainder of their time together, however long Fate decided that would be.

Even if tormented him now, Chaol had to remain strong; remain in control.

And if he had to play dirty by piling on the flirtatiousness to get Elora to crack first, so be it.

Nobody said he had to play fair, after all.

Yet, evidently, he wasn't the only to one to have come up with that game plan. Even with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and his hair perfectly styled for the effect of drawing Elora's eye and intensifying her pull towards him, Chaol felt distinctly at a disadvantage, as though he had arrived into the dining room woefully unprepared - because immediately, his eyes became transfixed by the purposeful effort that Elora had gone through to get her own back on him.

And it worked perfectly, perhaps better than she could have anticipated.

For a moment, Chaol sat silently as his eyes rose from his paper to take in her crop top, exposing her midriff. Ordinarily, he would have curled a lip and chosen to comment on how bewildering it was to see a woman bare that much skin when ladies of his time were considered scandalous for showing their ankle in public-- but no words came forward when he couldn't deny that he was drawn to the sight, his fingers twitching at his sides at the urge to rest a hand to her waist and pull her up into his embrace.

His eyes soon dipped to the jeans that fit snugly to her form, lingering far too unsubtly before he managed to get a grip on himself and restore enough control to tear his attention away and sit back in his chair at the head of the dining table, attempting to appear casual and composed... despite inwardly being anything but.

"Yes, well, that would be nice; a quiet day spent indoors. I haven't the energy to venture out to the town again today, I think I'd benefit from a day in front of the-- television, yes?" He murmured for clarification, unable to hide the smug smile that resided on his face at having remembered the name of the strange technology decorating his living room. The sooner he familiarised himself with the terminology, the sooner he would be able to operate confidently in the new world... even if that meant Elora had nothing left to teach him and thus no justification to remain under his roof.

But even when that was the case, he doubted he would force her from his abode.

Not when he had come to like her too much to fathom a life without her in it.

"...I like your outfit. Very unconventional but these aren't my times anymore, are they? I suppose I ought to move on, accept how fashion has changed. Besides, the top is... flattering on you," he complimented as his eyes peered to her over his newspaper, having collected it from the front doorstep before sitting himself down at the table. He flipped forward a page and returned his eyes to the writings, a smile resting comfortably on his lips. "I suppose it's only fair to throw you a compliment here and there, given the countless you have offered me in our time knowing one another. My heart is not so cold in my chest that I can't be a gentleman still."
 
The tension between the two was growing harder and harder to deny. Chaol always remaining so composed, seemingly unaffected by anything Elora did—given she had not truly done much to the man. No, it was the vampire with the continuous flirts, the agonizing tension he would create between the two. Elora falling victim to it over and over again.

She couldn't deny that she liked the tension, enjoyed it even—however, she was irked how the man always bested her. Always threw the blush to her face with the slightest of ease.



So now—maybe, just maybe it was her turn to taunt the man. That is if she could muster up enough courage to do so. It was odd how nervous, how excited Chaol made her. The young woman has sworn off dating, flirting with anyone. Deciding after the last disaster of a relationship she was better off alone.

That she did not need anyone to comfort her, to make her feel special. Wanted. No—she did not need any of that. She had made that a strong resolution when she decided to buy this house—to move away from everyone and everything, that she'd live out the rest of her days alone.



However, fate just had to change her plan. Perhaps if she had never opened the box downstairs, had turned and walked back up paying it no mind—she could have continued as she planned.

Elora couldn't say she hated the change of her plans. Chaol completely destroying her ideals the instant he awoke from his sleep.



No…she did not hate that at all.



Elora was happy she could free the man from his eternal slumber. Happy that he decided to stay with her, despite the bumps of the night before. Being around Chaol felt natural. Constantly flirting and playfully teasing, helping him heal just as much as he was helping her heal. Even if he did not realize just how much was.



It was as if this was where she was supposed to be all along. That she was born to be at his side and his side alone. That none of her previous relationships had a chance of survival while Chaol existed in this world. While he still lived trapped, just waiting for someone to free him.



Perhaps Elora's feelings have developed too fast. Many people, especially skeptics believing there was no such thing as love at first sight. A theory that only belonged to those in desperate need of a relationship or the hopeless romantics of the world.

However, only a fool would deny the countless sparks that flew off of Chaol and Elora ever since their first meeting. Only a fool would deny the natural chemistry the two shared. As though Chaol had been waiting for her for countless centuries. Elora having been born to be his and his alone.



Even so, it did not appear that either one was ready to crack just yet. Elora couldn't have him smugly hold that over her head. Have Chaol constantly tease her that it was her who had snapped first. That she had fallen victim to his charms just as everyone else in his life had. Well…besides Frankie but that was a whole other story she did not want to diverge into just yet—though it would be funny to pop his bubble, even if it was just a little bit.





As Elora entered the dining room, a cat-like grin slowly began to spread across her face. Triumph filling her eyes as the vampire was rendered speechless at her outfit choice. Watching as his eyes followed her body, from her midriff down to her hips where her pants clung. His reaction much better than what she had anticipated—in a rare circumstance, the all-mighty Chaol had been rendered speechless. Even if it was only for a short amount of time.



The young woman was happy to sway her hips ever so slightly as she went to take her place in front of Chaol. Unable to hide the mischievous grin even as she ate. Of course, he wasn't the only one that was rendered helpless. Elora unable to keep her gaze from his forearms, the muscles that seemed more prominent from the way his sleeves were rolled up.

Couldn't keep back the thoughts of him wrapping them around her. His lips pressing against hers, down her neck and body. Her fingers wrapped in perfect hair, destroying the way they neatly laid. It wasn't fair how tempting Chaol was. The vampire right in every way that no man, woman, or person would ever compare to him. His perfect form—his angelic aurora that hid so many devilish tricks.

Tricks that she was growing horribly fond of.



A chuckle left her lips as Chaol spoke confidently of the television. "That is correct. Look at you learning so quickly." Elora hummed—her grin holding its place as she took another bite of her food. However, that smile vanished rather quickly when he surprised her with a compliment. The man seeming unbothered, not bashful for the way she was dressed, instead mentioning how the outfit seemed to compliment her. Insisting that he was only throwing her a compliment after how many she gave him daily.

"Oh well isn't this rare. Thank you, I do enjoy this top. Though I'm glad to hear that you're not as cold as you seem. I'll have to wear things like this more often." Teasing she paused with her fork her in mouth, slowly dragging it down as another thought formed. "I'll have to pull out some shorts—I'm sure they are just tucked away somewhere."





Perhaps that night she will push the limits of her outfit. Perhaps wearing more casual, shorter—outfits, if only for to poke at the man as they watched their movie. A sick thrill rushing through her body as she forced him to sit through a movie she knew he was going to hate. Elora making sure she would make him watch every little scene with her—the perfect punishment for his behavior from the night before.



"I'll stop and get you a phone as well. Just in case you need to reach me or text your little side pieces."
 
He could practically sense the smugness that dominated Elora as she took in his response to her outfit, and though it only served to emphasise how easily he had gifted her it, Chaol couldn't say he disliked the arrogance in the other. On the contrary, why shouldn't she bask in her success when it was such a rarity to get Chaol to sit speechless? When it was so seldom witnessed, she had every right to drink in the silence and know she had been the one to cause it; that she had succeeded in causing his eyes to wander and linger and his mind to become aflame with all manner of impure thoughts.

He felt an instinctive need to remain loyal to the mindset that he had been societally expected to uphold back before his... prolonged imprisonment and subsequent rest. He could accept that those ways were in the past and that society had moved on, grown less strict and more open in embracing feeling and emotion, but it wasn't particularly easy for him to abandon everything he had been raised to believe, especially when it came to how he should treat a lady; how he should manoeuvre interactions with them.

He wasn't betrothed to Elora so it was expected that he only really engage with her if they were planning to wed - or if she had a male guardian at her side. To be alone in her company when their status was separate from one another with no expectation resting upon them and with no chaperone to protect her modesty and integrity... it was entirely unreasonable and even now, Chaol felt himself slightly uncomfortable at the realisation that it was just the two of them alone in the manor when it so sharply countered everything he had been raised to know and understand.

The expectations wouldn't impact him as severely if he hadn't been brought up in the elite of the upper aristocratic class, where behaving a certain way wasn't a choice but a demand set upon him. He had a little freedom when most came under his spell, unable and unwilling to criticise or counter the charming man that so easily held the attention of an entire room even before his transition to vampirism, but he was still born to the elites - and he still had the weight of following the rules, being the perfect gentleman, holding him captive.

His parents would turn in their graves if they could see him now, sharing the table with a woman he wasn't engaged to, drinking in every curve and slender grace her body possessed.

That said, they would probably be just as disgusted with him showing his bare forearms--

But time had moved on; society had progressed.

It was time to move with it, however... challenging it sometimes proved to be to him.

And if Elora continued to tease him with mentions of wearing 'shorts', which he could only presume to be more revealing than her jeans were, then there really was no use fighting against the embrace of the modern world when she was making it far too difficult for him to do so. No, he was powerless to resist the flirtation she was physicalising - even if he tried not to let his gaze linger, unwilling to give her the satisfaction, there was no dismissing of the thoughts filling his head; thoughts he could only wish to act upon.

But he would exercise patience, waiting as long as necessary for her to give in first.

If he had to play the long game, so be it.

Because Chaol De Villiers didn't lose.

Now now; not ever.

"Side pieces? I take that to mean the women that I will inevitably have to keep in contact with for conveniency? I would have thought you'd be in favour of such a system - it'll mean I won't be out for hours in town, away from the manor. Away from you. You're rather territorial of me. Protective. Don't you prefer a system where I can call up a side piece, feed, and send her away within minutes?" Taunted Chaol as he rested his chin in his hand, elbow propped onto the table (another thing that he would never have dared back in his day) and eyes fixed upon the human, delighting momentarily in imagining the cogs whirring in her head to find an answer that countered the point he had made - because if she didn't, she would be left having to concede that he had made a good point.

And when their entire interaction usually revolved around them battling it out for superiority, so they had the right to tease their counterpart, he knew the last thing she would want was to admit that he was right and she, subsequently, was wrong.

"But rest assured, Elora - they will only be for feeding. I have no intentions making friendships with anyone in this little town. I had no desire to do so back in the day and that hasn't changed in the years that have passed. People disgust me, frankly. My time is too precious to waste with them-- but you are an exception, I suppose. Don't let that get to your head and enlarge your ego."
 
Choal would quickly find Elora rolling her eyes as he teasingly mocked her. Declaring that she was protective of him—territorial even. Before her eye roll, there was a look of shock, as if she never thought of her actions, her words, and just how they could be implied. Then again it seemed like she was always quick to take jabs at the vampire for finding someone else to meet his needs. The slight irritation rising in her chest when she thought of him gathering numbers of different women. Going to their house, or worse coming to their manor—having to see Chaol flirt and fawn over someone, he did not specifically care about (that wasn't her)before disappearing behind closed doors. Or what she would assume would be closed doors, seeing as Chaol had no intention of allowing Elora to watch him feast.

Besides, she was sure it was something she would not wish to see either.

Still—it was crazy to feel so irrationally about a situation that had yet to happen…was it not? Elora allowing her mind to work her up to a frenzy over possible outcomes that would probably never be true. Even so…she was certain Chaol was only teasing her. She couldn't afford to let him know that he was right—that she was being a tad bit too protective of the vampire. Almost clingy to a certain extent—a habit Elora would have to keep in check. Just as Chaol had explained that Elora did not belong to him, she would have to accept that Chaol did not belong to her either

As of right now, they are just two people living together. Roommates, friends, that sometimes flirt and tease each other. A friend that Elora had seen naked—that wasn't too unusual, right?!

As to detour the vampire from claiming his victory, Elora having resulted to eye-rolling—her eyebrow rising slightly as she looked at the man across from her. "I never said I wasn't in favor of it. I would just prefer you have your own phone so I don't get called or texts in the middle of the night begging for your attention. 'Oh Chaol, I'm so lonely can you come over?' 'Chaol I miss you, can I see you tonight' " rising the pitch of her voice, Elora clasped her hands together like some pleading damsel waiting for her knight in shining armor to come chase away the night.

Chuckling she dropped her hands, finishing off the last bit of her food. "God forbid they send you spicy pictures in hopes you'll come running to their door." Cringing, Elora leaned back in her chair. "Thought it would be funny to see how you'd navigate such a situation."

A false gasp left the woman's mouth. A hand daintily finding its way to her chest, the tips of her fingers laying in the center as though shocked that he had offered her to the exception of his disdain for for humanity. "Oh, no no. It's too late. My ego is inflating with each passing second now. To think poor, pathetic, human, me has been graciously honored the time and energy of the oh-so-humble Chaol. I never thought this day would come. It brings a tear to my eye." Faking a sob the woman picked up a nearby napkin dabbing at her eyes for dramatic effect.

Truly it seemed the young woman had woken up only to choose violence with Chaol. Her teasing seeming to know no bounds, despite everything that happened the night before. As if they had hit a rough patch and were smoothing things back down.

With a sigh, Elora stood up from the table gathering her dishes once more. "You are too funny Chaol. However, I should get a move on before it's too late then. Let me know if there is anything else I can pick you up before I leave." Tuning she walked out of the dining room dropping her dishes off in the sink, as she walked to the main hall, Elora stumbled upon the bag of goodies she had bought the night before.
The sight of it seemingly killing her mood as a deep frown fell to her face. With an annoyed click of her tongue, Elora snatched it from the floor only to take it to the kitchen and disposing of it in the trash. The objects the bag contained were only tainted with the feelings of fear, dread, and a deep sadness. If Elora never saw another juice box it would be much too soon.

Clearing her head the young woman moved back to the main hall, snatching her shoes before moving to grab her keys and purse. "I know you can't eat, but does that include drinking as well?" Elora called to the dining, thinking perhaps tonight she would indulge her senses a little more.
 
The incessancy of Elora's teasing perhaps should have started to aggravate Chaol as he was forced to sit quietly and endure them all. Every quip and playful retort ought to have irked him into response, not necessarily angered or malicious but at the very least an attempt to give her a taste of her own medicine - a return of the teasing energy to silence her; to cause her to sit in her dining room chair and have to contend with the fact that there was nothing she could say or do to bat aside those playful words.

But Chaol couldn't respond to them because, in truth, he had nothing to say and no will in which to even try to attempt to say them... because he wasn't actually as aggravated as he wanted to be. The motivation to respond to her quips with some of his own as had become a recently formed tradition between them, an established norm for their interactions together, had dipped; dismantled by the sudden realisation that he wanted to do nothing but sit back and quietly drink in the look on Elora's face as she delighted in her momentary superiority over him; the smile that dominated that expression as she let one tease fly after another.

He could delight equally in that energy if he threw back a retort, tease her about how she harboured a desire to crawl to his bed as the countless humans in the town would beg him to do... but for once, Chaol remained quiet, accepting her energy without attempting to reciprocate it.

Because doing so would cut short the smile dominating her features, lighting them up so beautifully that if he could still breathe, Chaol feared she would have robbed him entirely of those breaths simply because of how... bewilderingly perfect she appeared to be to him in that moment. He was struck into silence by the beauty, by the joy expressed, and he wanted nothing more than to sit in silence and soak it in.

To remind himself how fortunate he was to have Elora's company; to still have her attention and desire and ever-present kindness.
Because a life without seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, feeling her presence at his side...
It wasn't a life he wanted to live.

Perhaps such a thought was dramatic when he barely knew her and had yet to fully adjust to the new world around him, let alone fully grieve the loss of Athanasia... but Chaol was of the opinion that he wouldn't feel the way he felt if those feelings weren't indicative of true heart's desire. He had felt struck immediately by Athanasia and she had provided him with his first taste of true happiness; taught him how to love and how to be the best version of himself he could be.

And all that effort and understanding, all those personal revelations and emotion acknowledgements... it was all to prepare him for this: a life with Elora. Another chance of love, companionship and a life.

How could he allow the sharpness of his tongue to interrupt such a perfect moment when he had stumbled onto the realisation that he not only liked Elora, but... could grow to love her?

That he was dangerously close to admitting as much already.

Instead, he simply smiled to himself as he watched her ease herself up from the table, unable to even feign an expression of disinterest or sombreness when in that moment, enraptured by her presence and all it promised for their future together, all the vampire could truly do was... admire it. Admire her.

He quickly found himself drawn back into the present when she directed a comment to him from the hallway and, with a characteristically dramatic sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and leaned in the doorway looking out into the grand hall, arms folding over his chest as he considered the question.

"...I've had glasses of wine and it doesn't seem to cause in me the agony that food does, so I can drink, yes. Thank whatever higher being is out there for that, because a life without fine wine and whisky is truly a miserable one, isn't it? I did have a wine cellar full of the most exquisite bottles, but... well, it's all barren at the moment so those dreadful humans that locked me away in there clearly had the sense to steal what was mine and enjoy throwing every drop down their pathetic, unrefined palates--" He hissed, his anger momentarily rising at the thought of his precious wine collection being wasted on the tongues of thieves who had caused him the utmost misery--

But there was no point in dwelling on it.

He had the last laugh given he was free and still living life while they were mere bones six feet underground now.
The thought, though dark and macabre, brought a smirk to his lips.

"Bring me home a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, that was always my favourite. Athanasia would enjoy a glass with me as she dined on steak and fine chocolates, but-- I'll just have the wine. Anything else will make me sick, quite literally."
 
It was a blessing that the moment between the two had not been interrupted. The teasing nature going far beyond one of just friendship. Words sharp enough to cut but so light they never would—words that held a flirting undertone to them whether either of them realized it or not. Each seeking the anticipation of how the other would react, the thrill of each quip that would need instant rebuttal. Barely allowing one another to get the upper hand in each convoluted conversation—turning every situation into some kind of fight.
A fight where no one would win, yet no one would get hurt either.

That moment in time between the two felt more natural, lighter than any time Elora had ever been with another person. Whether the relationship was platonic or romantic, each word every thought she couldn't keep at by flowed effortlessly from her mouth. The woman rarely worrying that she may accidentally offend the man across from her, making him upset or uncomfortable to a place of no return. A place where no words or jokes could save face.
She didn't have to worry because Chaol could handle it. Only encouraging her behavior with his own, matching her energy to a level no one had been able to reach thus far.

Truthfully, Elora thought her last breakup was the is all ends all. That she would never fall in love again, that she would close off her heart to every romantic advancement someone made to her. Elora decided she could live without curling up in someone's arms, without feeling needed, safe, or loved. That she would be fine in a big house all alone, yet…now she was having second thoughts.
As mundane as that morning was, Chaol being at her side made it much brighter, more fun. Even if he did a horrifically good job at ruffling her feathers by dropping his towel to Elora's shock. The man following through on his threats, warnings that she did not have any interest in heeding until it was much too late.

An incident that was clearly her fault.

Though there was no complaining to be found. No scold or discomfort for the man, just mild amusement and high embarrassment on her part.

Sadly, as warm as the moment was, as comfortable as it had been—it too had to come to an end. Though with some hope, perhaps there would be more moments like this in the future.

As she called out to Chaol, he would hear a faint chucking after hearing the dramatic sigh that escaped his lips. Elora rolling her eyes as he came into view. A mild disappointment crossing her face when he explained that he had an abundance of wine in his cellar—wine that had all been wasted now. "Oh, that's so sad. I bet it would taste even better now too." Elora hummed. "Well on the plus side, you can't blame me for drinking it all. Perhaps we can start a new collection of wine. I can get a little wine holder and everything. Start over fresh." Chaol's annoyance was anything but hidden as he recalled the beast that locked him away. Plundering through his items, taking everything that did not belong to him. Destroying everything he had worked so hard for over the years.

It must have been painful, more so when you have been awakened from such a long sleep only to be reminded of what had been stolen. To deal with those hot emotions that had no outlet. After all, one can't punish the dead. It was why Elora chose to try and lighten his mood, joke about the incident, and find a remedy. Perhaps not one that he liked but one that could suffice for now.
"There is a winery outside of town that we could visit sometime. I heard you can sample the wines before buying too."


As the topic quickly changed to the drink of choice, Chaol would find blue eyes squinting in confusion. Full lips attempting to mummer the wine that had been requested. A wine that had her pulling out her cell phone, doing a quick Google search. The rise of eyebrows indicating she had found what Chaol had requested. "Jeez, you are such a posh boy. I'll see what I can do." Huffing, Elora closed her phone. The corners of her lips rising slightly, breaking the false annoyance she held for his display of rich boy wealth.

"Alright, I'll be back in a little bit. Try not to burn the house down." Flashing Chaol with a genuine smile this time Elora took off out the door. Leaving Chaol to the solitude of his home for the first time since he had been freed.
 
As amusing as it would be to deliberately mention a wine he knew she would have no knowledge of, just to see her admit her naivety and have to research it in front of him as he smugly stood back, drowning in his own arrogant superiority, the effects that played out hadn't been anticipated - because admittedly, Chaol hadn't mentioned the wine for any other reason than it was a personal favourite and he longed to enjoy a chilled bottle beside the fireplace as he had so many times in his past: both as a human and as a vampire.

It hadn't been an effort to tease her, though he had to admit that the unanticipated repercussions of name-dropping the wine he preferred were enjoyable - as evidenced by the grin that spread amusedly on his lips at her quip that he was a 'posh boy' whose tastes unsubtly emphasised those prestigious upbringing.

No, if anything, this was a rare time where Chaol had answered sincerely without any teasing intentions behind his remarks, no desire in that moment to put Elora on edge and see her squirm as knowledge of her obliviousness set in.

"I do think you forget, dearest Elora, that I am Lord of this manor. That the title as Lord of this town has been passed down to me after generations of my ancestors all holding such a privilege. Just because I regard you with these teases and hold an air of informality around you doesn't mean you ought to forget my aristocratic ties, nor the fact that I am technically your superior in this society," hummed Chaol as his eyes twinkled in his continued delight, the returned hazel (having overtaken the animalistic, all-encompassing black from the night before) lighting beautifully as the rays of that morning's sunshine found themselves flooding in through the hallway windows, cascading light into the hall and illuminating Chaol where he stood. Not only did it emphasise the brightness of his eyes but also the dimples as he smiled, the curved groove of the muscles unsubtle beneath the fitting shirt, the shine to the dark locks that were styled effortlessly--

And perhaps annoyingly to Elora, the vampire knew precisely how perfect he appeared to be-- because it wasn't just that moment that encapsulated that beauty, but every moment. He was accustomed to looking how he did, with whispers of his perfectly crafted visage and physique having followed him long before he ever found his body twisting in transformation to his vampirism.

He had always been a figure that brought forward gossip and earned longing glances from all that stood to observe him--

It had just heightened dramatically when he did become a vampire, so of course he knew how perfect he appeared; how inarguably beautiful he was as he stood basking in the golden glow of the morning, just as beautiful as he could be beneath the ethereal beam of the moon at night.

Offering a wriggle of his fingers in parting, he stood quietly for a moment in the now empty hall, taking in the silence of the old house around him. The solitude was always something he felt he had been destined to enjoy, having decided after news of Athanasia's passing that a life of that loneliness was all he was good for - and all he ought to have. His was a life that wasn't destined to be shared, with the only person that he felt could share it finding themselves six feet below the earth as a result of their association with him. No, the manor was his and his alone and he would exist for centuries to come, holing himself up inside it and resuming his position as a mysterious, enigmatic figure who rumours would spread like wildfire about--

But then Elora burst onto the scene and disrupted every single one of those beliefs.

Because the silence he had once adored was now oppressive, the vampire grimacing uncomfortably to himself as he returned to the dining room. He longed to hear Elora's laughter echoing the halls, warming the cold manor with the brilliance and vibrancy of her personality.

In short, he longed for Elora, and even an hour without her company was an hour too long.

Until she returned, however -and hopefully with his favourite wine unless the price of it put her off- Chaol had to resume the solitude that had once dominated his life, leaving him with the realisation that though he had once treasured it, it no longer appealed.

He didn't want a lonely existence.

Not if he could share a happy, fulfilling one - with Elora.
 
Once again Chaol would find Elora rolling her eyes at the vampire as he reminded her that he was her superior. That she couldn't match up to him in wealth or status. Informing her, as if she didn't already know or that she somehow forgot, that he came from a long line of money. Of aristocratic statues. A man of blood blue, a color that should never be tainted by those of the working class. A color that those under such social statuesque will never achieve. Perhaps—if times were different even Elora would never have had the chance. She didn't grow up poor, no her and her family were very well off, but she was well aware that their wealth paled compared to Chaols and his family.

Perhaps she would had worked under him if they had been in the same era. Perhaps as a maid or maybe she would had seen him at social gatherings. However, if she had then she wouldn't have lived long—and their teasing games most likely wouldn't have gone so well as they were now.
Despite that, it wasn't too hard to imagine what Chaol must had looked like all those years ago.
His beauty preserved to perfection thanks to his vampiric paralysis. His beauty was only made more alluring, more dangerous by the way he stood under the light. As if even the sun couldn't help but stop to worship the man. For a few moments, Elora was distracted, soaking in the air that was just Chaol.
Wondering just how she had managed to catch these glimpses of him with no one else around. As if these moments were blessings bestowed by some higher power—a higher power she wished to give thanks to.

Though she did not wish to give Chaol the satisfaction of being mesmerized by him. No, she couldn't have that yet again.
Instead, she chose to change the topic, a coy smile quickly falling to her features. "Hmmm…it's interesting you hold that against me. Remind me though, isn't your title below royalty, however? So weren't you below your Princess for a while there? Very bold of you to brag when you were once in the same place as I."

With a playful laugh, the woman quickly ducked out the door before he could get another word in—declaring herself the winner by simply running away from any of his retorts. Because, after all, if she didn't hear it then there was no way he would be able to counter her argument.

As Elora ventured into town alone, it was almost—therapeutic. No longer was anyone stopping to gawk in her direction, nor was there anyone approaching and wishing to speak to the man at her side. No, her journey through the shops was rather peaceful—that was until she really listened to what was happening around her.

The young woman who was once happily plucking designer jackets, suits, ties, whatever she thought the vampire might need, suddenly came to a chilling halt. With a twitching ear, the woman slowed down her movements through the racks of clothing—eavesdropping on a few employees.
Their hushed whispers gained Elora's painful attention.

"Did you hear about the person outside of Cloud Nine last night?"

"Oh you mean the one they found outback?"

"Yeah. My friend's mom knows the person they found. Apparently, the victim suffered from an incredible amount of blood loss."

"Did they get stabbed or something? I haven't heard too much of it."

"That's just it, that's the freaky part. There were no stab wounds, no blunt force injuries. Nothing that could be accounted for that would cause so much blood loss. However, the paramedics said it looked like they had been bite on the neck."

A sudden clatter of hangers brought the employees' conversation to a quick end, one of the women walking around to see what had just happened. "Is everything alright ma'am?"

"Oh yes! Yeah, everything is great. I just think I got more clothing then I can carry!" With a nervous laugh, a pale-faced Elora was quick to pick the jackets she was buying for Chaol off the floor, taking the moment to try and steady her fluttering heart.
"Oh my, here let me take these to the counter for you. Feel free to continue looking, they will be here when you are ready to check out."

Before Elora could protest, the woman gathered the rest of the clothing from her arms. Strutting the clothing to the front of the store so Elora could shop more freely. However, they did not have to wait too long for Elora to come purchase the items, deciding it would be best to get out of the store as quickly as possible. Before any suspicion could be thrown her way. Or worse, hear any more about the attack that seemed to shake the small town.

Though avoiding the rumors, the hushed whispers was easier said then done. Every store she went to there seemed to be some other variation of what happened to the person that Chaol had attacked.
Some saying it was a group of stray dogs, others saying the person, unfortunately, got mugged. Others claiming it was just some drunk who fell and hurt themselves. Though many were talking about the bite on the neck.
Some speculating someone at the bar got a bit too frisky—but with Halloween only nearing closer, some were joking about it being a vampiric attack. Unaware of just how close to the truth they were.

The night before, as Chaol had slumbered Elora had found Frankie's number. Placing it in her phone—thinking about calling her after Elora was sure Chaol was sleeping. Or even that morning while she shopped alone…yet she found she couldn't do it. Not with how sore her eyes still felt, nor how scratchy her voice was, even more so now with the rumors flying about. By now, she was sure Frankie knew the incident was Chaol's fault—that he had lost control last night and nearly killed someone. Nearly being the keyword. He had stopped on his own accord when Elora reached the alleyway, so he did have some control over himself.

Yet she was sure the witch would not see it that way. The thought of seeing her now making Elora's stomach tighten with nerves. Unsure of just how to remedy the situation.

After gathering necessities for Chaol, Elroa dropped the bags off in her car before going to the local liquor store. If anything now, Elora desperately needed a drink to forget the stress of the rumors, even if it was just for a few hours. She knew that Chaol was going to have to become aware of everyone talking, aware of the few that had assumed a vampire was to blame—even if they didn't realize how right they were.
Truthfully it worried Elora how the man would take the news. Perhaps he would laugh it off, lay low for a while, and let the rumors disappear with time. Perhaps that would be the best solution to all of this.

Deep in thought, Elora wasn't paying any attention to her surroundings now. Her mind consumed with what the correct solution to all of this would be. It wasn't until she bumped into another form that she quickly came back to reality. Covering her mouth as she quickly backed up. "Oh my goodness I am so sorry, I wasn't paying any attention are you alright?"
Her concern slowly fell, replaced with a tight smile as she registered just who she had bumped into.
A beautiful woman, one she had been dreading to see. A friendship that was perhaps on the rocks after the incident from last night.
"Hey, Francine. I'm so sorry, are you alright?"
 
That morning had started much like any other for Francine.

Waking at the sound of her alarm -a necessity, or she would inevitably end up spending the entirety of the morning snuggled within the warmth of her blankets until the afternoon arrived-, the witch dragged herself through the routine that had sustained her for the best part of a decade now. In fact, the routine itself stemmed back for decades, but the advancements in the modern world meant that adjustments were made to best suit her; adjustments that very rarely occurred now she had stumbled upon the perfect formula to set her up for the day ahead.

As time mercilessly charged forward, she would inevitably be forced to move with it and change aspects of that routine to fit in with whatever the future had in store for her, but for now? For now, her morning operated as it had for the last decade: she ventured out into the garden for her usual yoga session, returned inside to shower, moisturise and get dressed for the day, enjoyed a breakfast of overnight oats and fresh berries plucked from the garden and concluded the routine with a prayer of thanks to the forces watching over her, be they the Gods she prayed to or those of her kind that may have departed from the mortal realm but remained observant in their place of rest, ready to bestow protection and blessing to those witches who remained dedicatedly and resolutely loyal to the sisterhood.

With the morning having passed by as seamlessly as she could have hoped it would, Frankie's desire to keep the positivity flowing and her good mood intact proceeded with the impromptu decision to take a walk into town and treat herself to lunch at her favourite cafe, with the idea to then also treat herself to a little shopping on the side. It was a luxury she was afforded through her ability to work at home, her remote proofreading work providing her a decent income - as well as ample time to focus on herself and her self-appointed role as guardian for the town.

After all, her existence as a witch was one that should ideally take precedence over everything else - and though she couldn't dedicate every aspect of her life to what she was and what she felt she existed to provide to the humans that populated the town around her, she had at least had the sense to find herself a job that allowed her to dedicate time to protecting those that needed protecting.

Admittedly, protecting the town from the clutches of evil hadn't been too difficult a task for much of the last century when the only threats that had come to envelop it were entirely of the humans' own doing - robberies and the occasional murder, bouts of drunken violence and public nuisances... all of it was beneath the work a witch like Frankie felt they ought to get involved in. It was best left to the human authorities to deal with while her time was better spent protecting the humans from unnatural forces... even if very few had arrived to trouble Frankie into action.

Until now.

Until Chaol's return.

It didn't take long for Frankie to hear the whispers, not when they had been spreading like wildfire around the town since it first stirred to start a new day. Immediately, even without the specific details on hand, the witch knew who was at fault for the attack: a belief given the evidence it needed when rumours of the bite mark that had been found on the victim's neck eventually reached her ear. All at once, Frankie felt sickened, her gut twisting in discomfort and disgust at the thought that she had been tucked up contentedly in bed whilst Chaol had been out, tormenting the town she had sworn to herself she would protect. She was keen to ensure a repeat of the past wouldn't occur... and yet she had been persuaded by Elora to take a step back, convinced that the human could succeed in reining in the monster that Chaol was.

How naive they both had been.

Guilt swarmed her as she rose from her seat at the cafe, gnawing uncomfortably at her. After all, she only had herself to blame for being convinced to go easy on Chaol; to believe even slightly that he was capable of the change Elora promised her she saw in him. It had been stupid to believe that that was the case when she was the one who knew Chaol; the one to witness the slaughter he could commit in the blink of an eye. He might not have taken a life this time, but the victim suffering the vicious injuries was enough for Frankie to have her former opinion justified.

Chaol couldn't change, he would never change - and Frankie was more determined than ever to put a stop to him.

Were it not for Elora bumping into her, the witch would have made her way directly to Chaol's manor, whereby she wasn't sure she could have kept her disgust nor her anger in control. She didn't personally wish to take anyone's life... but a case could be made to end Chaol's. If it spared the town from being tormented, if it saved lives, surely slaying a monster could be a defendable choice? Fortunately for both Elora and Chaol, Frankie's desire to end the vampire's existence found distraction when she found herself storming directly into the human, her neat brows momentarily furrowed in confusion before recognition registered.

And swiftly following it was anger. Searing, white-hot anger.

It wasn't fair to entirely blame Elora for the actions that Chaol had taken, but she was an easy target for Frankie; someone she could place blame onto for taking part in distracting the witch from keeping her gaze so intensely on the Lord and his actions. He might still have committed a violent act, but at least Frankie would have known in her heart that she had done all she could to prevent it. Instead, she had been at home, asleep, convinced by Elora that there was nothing to be concerned about.

"I assume you've heard the news?" Began Frankie without caring to feign pleasantries or offer up even a semblance of small talk. Instead, her features pulled together in disgust as her arms came to fold over her chest, brown eyes fixed onto Elora's intensely; remorselessly.

"...How can I be alright when we have a monster tormenting the town, Elora? A monster I should drive a fucking stake through," she hissed, doing so out of anger but also to ensure her voice remained low and discrete. "You told me he was capable of change; that you had seen it. But maybe you're about to tell me I was right all along and that that bastard is better off dead, yes? Because he will kill us all if we don't take matters into our hands, Elora. He has proven that he is the same fucking monster I knew back then. He hasn't changed. He will never change. So are you on my side - or his?"
 
It didn't take long for Elora to regret stopping to apologize to the witch. It would have been smarter if she had simply turned around and scurried off in the other direction, avoiding the witch as though she was a scared, cowardly mouse. Yet some foolish part of her had hoped that Francine was still unaware of the rumors. Unaware of the accident from last night. However, that naive thinking was quickly smothered, mercilessly murdered as Francine registered her with a boiling heat.

Elora flinching, cringing at the hatred that boiled off of the witch. Her shoulders coming to hunch up by her ears, a timid—uneasy smile falling to her face, aware of the lashing she was about to receive. A lashing that came in mere moments of the stern look that had greeted her.
Of course, Francine had been made aware of the fiasco that was last night. Her anger pooling from her lips in hushed whispers, unloading it all onto Elora. Of course, Elora couldn't say she blamed her. After all, she was the one who insisted that Chaol had changed. That he wasn't a ruthless killer like before.

"Look I'm sorry," Elora whispered, brows knitting together. "Chaol…it was an accident. I know you won't believe that but it was. I made him mad to the point he couldn't think straight. It was like a totally different person had taken over him, but by the time I found him, he had already stopped feeding from the person. I think we are all overlooking the fact that Chaol didn't kill anyone last night."

Elora paused, searching the other's face for some understanding. For some reprieve from the anger that currently consumed her features. "He's not going to kill us all Francine. He didn't kill that person, even if he had intended to at first he stopped.
I understand your feelings and your worries, but it was an accident. And I'm not going to pick sides like some…some high school drama. I am aware of the damage Chaol has caused. But I'm also aware of his guilt for what he did last night. Believe it or not, Chaol can still feel shame even if it doesn't seem like it."

However, despite Elora claiming that she wasn't taking sides, it was painfully obvious from the way she was defending Chaol's actions that she was too far deep on the vampires side to even think about switching. Whatever feelings she held for the monstrosity of the man she lived with seemed to blind Elora to any of the dangers he possessed. Any of the truths that others spat out in desperate hopes of making her understand only fell on deaf ears. As though with the little time she had spent with him, the little time she had known him—Elora chose to defend him as though he was an old friend. As though she knew him better than anyone else.

It was unreal, unnatural how Chaol could worm his way into someone's heart like he has. Not only once, but twice now.

With a sigh, Elora began to rub the middle of her forehead. A dull throbbing starting just behind her left eye. "Listen. There is no amount of apologizing I can do, neither on mine nor Chaol's behalf. But perhaps you can come over and talk with him. Listen to his apology and see just how far along he has come from the man you once knew."
 
Though she had approached the conversation with understandable anger and didn't expect that approach to end anytime soon, Frankie couldn't maintain the ire when the immediacy of Elora's defence caught her off guard. She didn't expect to hear the defence again when there was now evidence for Elora to ditch her dedication to defending Chaol.

No, she fully anticipated to be faced with a remorseful Elora, regretting her decision to align herself so fervently to Chaol's side and promising Frankie that she would do all she could to amend the situation; to lend the witch her hand in ensuring Chaol couldn't commit such atrocities again.

Even if the only way to truly guarantee that would be to drive a stake through his heart and take confidence from the fact that they had rid the world of just another monster who sought to darken it with their mindless violence.

And yet that wasn't the case. Rather than a deeply apologetic Elora who had seen the error of her ways and had reached the understandable conclusion that she had been wrong to place so much faith in a man -a monster- she didn't truly know until the devastation he could cause had been made evident to her, Frankie stood astounded, disbelieving, as she was instead met with an almost aggravated human who sought only to continue defending a man who had almost torn an innocent human apart.

Even with rumours of the bloody violence spreading throughout the town, some not subtle in detailing the amount of blood that had been shed and the strength needed to reduce someone to such a physically weakened state, Elora was still stood defending the vampire, having the audacity to suggest that Frankie hear him out.

But she couldn't be angered by the display she was forced to witness.

If anything, she just felt... sad for Elora. Sympathetic that she, like so many before her and inevitably so many after her, had fallen so deeply for Chaol that excusing him almost murdering someone came naturally to her. To her, he wasn't a monster who could tear the town apart; he was a misunderstood figure who deserved charitable understanding and another chance.

Even if he had been gifted countless of them in his long life and still continued on the path of brutality.

He could claim to be different, to want to continually work towards being a better person.

But Frankie didn't believe him.

She couldn't believe him - because the moment she did was the moment she took her eye off protecting the town from him.

And innocents would be slaughtered as a result.

"Do you hear yourself, Elora? You are stood here defending a man who brutalised an innocent person last night. You are placing the blame on yourself when Chaol is the one responsible for his own actions. You aren't to blame but he is and... you defending him won't absolve him of his wrongdoing. He is a monster, do you understand that? And monsters need to be stopped. He needs to be stopped." Frankie proceeded to insist, her tone sharpened not by anger but by desperation, her features contorted by the depth of it. She knew she was ultimately appealing to the already converted, with conversations of the past with Athanasia often going the same way.

Her words would just fall on deaf ears because Elora wasn't someone who was sitting on the fence, awaiting evidence to choose the side she would align herself with. She was already firmly in Chaol's camp, ready and willing to excuse whatever behaviour he displayed because even the most vicious of those traits, even the most inexcusable of actions, could be forgiven if he shot a smile and dropped a flirty remark.

And that... disgusted Frankie; it horrified her.

Elora was already a victim to Chaol and there was no saving her from him. Not now she had already fallen so far into the lure of his embrace.

"I don't want to see that man because I promise you, I will utter a spell to cause him endless pain if I do. And I know you won't like that, you're so far gone that you want to protect him from pain he deserves to feel. You're his cheerleader, aren't you? Defending the indefensible," she grunted critically, not caring to soften the blow of her words when they, in her eyes, were entirely justified and had a right to be uttered. In fact, she knew she ought to have gone further in communicating how disgusted she was with Elora's defence of a vampire, a creature that deserved no such empathetic approach... but Elora looked exhausted, drained both physically and emotionally.

And Frankie wasn't cruel enough to pile on the blues.

"...I'll come over tonight, hear what he has to say. If you are this determined to defend him, the least I can do is hear what his own defence entails. I won't be easily convinced, I will always be hesitant, but I want him to know what I am. Who I am. I want him to be scared, Elora. To... be wary. To be nervous. I want him to know that I'm here; that I will tear his heart from his chest if he hurts someone else to the extent he hurt that man last night. If he can't control himself, then maybe fear of his own death will force him to."
 
Elora had to take a breath as Francine continued her rightful assault against Choals character. Of course, she was angry, she had every right to be. Elora was sure she felt betrayed by Elora after she gave such promising testimony of Chaol's new behavior. Francine probably felt extremely guilty for letting her guard down. Trusting a human who barely knew of the unspoken horror that Chaol had made the town suffer once upon a time. The witch was probably scared, horrified that he had seemingly come back to life, believing that his only goal was to cause immense chaos once more.

They were all things Elora couldn't hold against her. If she was in Francine's place, if she had seen the things Chaol had done—Elora was sure she would have felt the same way. However, that wasn't the case. Instead, Elora saw a narcissistic, god-complex individual. Smug. Cocky. Believing that he knew everything and could do no wrong. She had seen the more tender sides of Chaol as well. The one of him still mourning the death of his wife. Of feeling guilt for the disaster he had caused the night before, apologizing for his behavior.
She had seen the more protective side, even if it was very slight when he warned her to not follow him to the bar that night.

Just like anyone—Chaol was a complex individual. He wasn't the one-sided monster that Francine believed him to be. It was easier to see him that way, to distance yourself from the humanity that the vampire still possessed. Easier to believe he was better off dead then accepting the fact that he had made a mistake. Easier to pretend he was not human at the end of the day.

Elora was positive her life would have been so much easier if she left the manor. Easier if she allowed Chaol to be killed, or worse yet place him back in the box for eternity.

Yet Elora could imagine not seeing his smile. The dimples on his cheeks that only added to his charm. The deep laugh she was granted every so often, or the surprised look on his face when she was able to stump the man. Though she barely knew him and was still learning so much about Chaol—it broke her heart to think she would never see those things again.
That she would never hear his teasing voice, or witness the beautiful amber of his eyes…
It was too much to think about. More so when she felt oddly at home in his presence.

Even now, with the few hours she had been away and shopping, Elora was finding that she deeply missed having the vampire at her side. Missed having her hand in his, even if he did not need it anymore. It had become an odd comfort that Elora did not realize she needed until he showed up.

Perhaps it was true. That Elora was in too deep with the vampire. Her judgment blinded, making her defend a murderous creature with someone who seemed to know better. Though, Elora found she just couldn't help it. The words slipping out before she could stop them.

"You are right. I can't take the full blame for what Chaol did last night. It was his actions that ended up hurting someone, yet I can't say it wasn't my actions that provoked the response. He was upset that I had not listened to him. That he saw me out at a store purchasing some items after he warned me of the dangers of his feedings. He was trying to protect me from seeing him in such a state. Chaol felt betrayed when he saw me out that night. His mind just got so flooded and his emotions were out of control…"

Elora trailed off, a small frown gracing her face. Her arms crossing, yet the movement was not in defiance—it was more as though she was trying to protect herself from the memories of last night. The emotional trauma still raw, still fresh despite Chaol's apologies. The way he had kissed her neck, the careless mocking of his words, the blackness of his eyes—all of it came rushing to the front of her mind. Sending chills down her back, her stomach tightening until she felt nauseous, yet she wasn't about to let it show.

She couldn't let Frankie know that she was correct, that inside some part of Chaol lay a destructive monster. She couldn't allow Frankie to feel that killing Chaol was justifiable—so she would hold those memories back. Keeping them as a dark secret that she hoped would one day end up locked away, to never be thought of again.

Even so, Elora couldn't say she rested well that night. Nor could she say she was completely recovered from the incident. Usually, Elora wouldn't have allowed such a scolding to get to her, yet as Frankie continued her tongue-lashing—threatening to harm Chaol in ways that Elora couldn't even imagine. Bringing him nothing but pain, her words insulting as she called Elora Chaols cheerleader. The disgust clearly heard even if Francine did not speak it aloud.
Despite Elora trying to keep her emotions at bay, the prickle of tears began behind her eyes once more. The young woman biting the inside of her cheek to try and distract herself from the sensitive nature she found herself in that day.

Elora telling herself she wasn't about to cry a second time that day. That her tears were not warranted for this current situation. With some luck the witch seemed to have an unspoken understanding, easing up, even if it was very slightly.

"I will let him know we will have a guest tonight then." Elora hummed, casting her gaze just past Francine's shoulder. "I'm not trying to get you to change your mind about Chaol. I understand your feelings—I truly do. I just want you to see the other sides of him too. That he isn't so one note as you believe. I'm not trying to get you to like him, I am just trying to get you to understand him a bit better is all." Forcing a smile on her face, Elora dropped her arms back to her side.

"I'll see you tonight then. I have a bit more shopping to do, so please excuse me." With a slight nod, Elora moved to quickly walk past the witch—ending their conversation before more could be said. Before Frankie could find a way to make her feel even worse.
Though some part of Elora knew these feelings were deserved. After all, someone did get hurt badly because of her. Because of Elora releasing the vampire from his slumber. Because she failed to listen to him that night.

The weight of her guilt just as heavy.

Yet more than anything she wanted to return home, to see Chaol and warn him of the witch's approach. Francine only confirming what she was by a few simple words.

Making her stop at the liquor store, Elora managed to find Chaols wine of choice, purchasing it without truly looking at the price. Her mind heavily distracted. Both with worry and fear for what would happen that night. Wondering just how she was going to keep control under control, to keep him alive and under the radar from Francine's wrath.
 
As Elora made her way through the town, and not knowing how long she would be when there was every likelihood she would find more shops to venture into during the journey amongst the complex of them, Chaol determined to find something to do to occupy his time as he awaited her return; something that distracted him from the sobering realisation that the solitude and the loneliness that he had once welcomed with open arms no longer appealed to him.

The realisation that he was merely biding time waiting for Elora because her company brightened his life, his world, more than he truly was able to comprehend.

He had at last reached a point where coming to that conclusion didn't horrify him. It bewildered him endlessly, the vampire struggling both with the sense that he was betraying his lost wife (as though over a century since she had been alive wasn't sufficient enough for Chaol to freely move on) as well as the simple fact that he was harbouring feelings of such depth, comparable to feelings he had held for Athanasia, towards a woman he had only known a handful of days. His romance with Athanasia had bloomed similarly quickly, bursting into life - but he didn't expect lightning to strike him twice; for him to experience a second chance at love and for it to happen so... blindingly quickly that his mind was struggling to accommodate the rush it was enduring.

The feeling of guilt began to strengthen the longer he was left to his own devices, dwelling on how the quiet of the home had once been filled with the joyous laughter of Athanasia as they turned it from a long-ignored abode to a marital home. Servants were ushered in to accommodate the Princess -as well as tend to a Lord who had long refused the servitude he, by birthright, ought to have commanded- and when their work wasn't echoing the halls, it was the sound of Athanasia's laughter or her loving remarks; the clack of her knitting needles as she settled beside the fireplace as the wind roared outside or the piercing whistle of the kettle as she lovingly tended to the duty of preparing cinnamon tea for herself, rather than rely on the servants to do it for her.

Their marriage had been short-lived but it had provided memories so full of love that Chaol knew he wouldn't ever forget them, no matter how many centuries he proceeded to live without her at his side... and the depth of that love and the cruelty in which others had decided to show them because of it was why Chaol found himself spending a few minutes sat beside their grand portrait, unable to tear his gaze from Athanasia's likeness even if his guilt began to intensify the longer he did so.

He had no idea how Athanasia would feel if she could see him now; if she knew he held feelings for another woman. He liked to think she would welcome it; that she wanted him to be happy above all else - but there was the likelihood that she wouldn't be contented, embittered by the fact her own chance at happiness had been severely cut short. She wasn't the sort of person to ever act so bitterly, but how could Chaol be sure he wasn't offending her by pursuing someone else? That he wasn't dishonouring her memory and the love they shared by... moving on?

Because in the grand scheme of things, a century wasn't all that long.

It felt far too short, too measly a time-span, for him to have found another occupant of his desires; someone who evoked in him he same feelings of love and yearning that Athanasia herself had provided.

But... he couldn't wait another century, biding his time until he was sure Athanasia's memory was honoured-- because Elora didn't have that time to wait.

If they were going to embark on any sort of relationship, if they were to admit how they felt for one another... it would have to happen relatively soon, thus buying them countless decades of time to forge the sort of memories that he and Athanasia had formed together.

Straightening, Chaol cast the portrait a final glance, both apologetic and grateful, before he took his leave from his treasured study and settled in the living room to await Elora. Because as guilty as he still felt, already forming new memories with another woman in the marital home he had once shared with Athanasia, time... moved on; people moved on. He could cling to the heartache of the past and spend another century mourning a lost love, or he could move on and allow himself the chance to be happy again - never forgetting Athanasia nor ignoring what she had provided in opening his heart up and making him realise he deserved to have that peacefulness, but closing that chapter and reopening another.

Assuming Elora was willing to do so - but, call it confidence or arrogance, Chaol was almost entirely certain that he wasn't misreading the signals she was giving off.

That her teases, her smiles, her laughter and her continued impassioned defence of him were emblematic of a bubbling desire in her that only needed a little prodding before it spilled onto the surface, confessions accompanying it.

He had to hope that she would engage with those confessions soon, of course - because though it was desirable that she be the first to break, Chaol wasn't sure he could last too much longer holding back how he felt when time was always marching forward.

And he wanted to make the most of the time he had with Elora - because it Athanasia proved anything, it was that time could so easily be cut short.
 
Frantic, distracted, nervous —those were all great words to describe Elora's drive home. Her mind should have been consumed by the thoughts of Chaols face when she returned with his clothing. Preparing herself for any of his witty remarks or complaints about what she found. Should have been preparing herself to watch the worst movie in existence with the vampire and relish in the grief it would cause.
Yet that was not the case, instead, she was manically racing to get to his side, to warn him of the dangers that hovered right outside the door. Preparing for the anger that might consume him when Elora would admit to lying to him a second time.

Despite the desperate need to get everything off her chest as soon as she opened the door—Elora did not have the heart to cause the man such worry or distress if he saw how panicked she was. Reminding herself to breathe while she pulled into the driveway, her nerves just as shot as they were the night before—only this time she was positive no one was lurking in her backseat.
Gathering the bags, the woman made her way to the front door, waltzing in as calmly as she could. Deciding to place everything down in the living room as to not crowd the front door—it also gave Chaol ample space to take his new outfits out and admire them (he better had admire them).

Just before she could announce her arrival, Elora stopped short seeing the vampire already lounging in the living room, the house too silent to indicate he had done anything besides sit there and wait for her return. Much like a loyal dog. Normally the silent comparison would have made her laugh—however, this time was different. Instead, as her eyes graced the man a sense of relief flooded through her body. The tension in her shoulder settling. The clenching of her jaw disappearing as soon as he was in her eyesight.

Elora wasn't able to explain it, nor did she ever think she could. But with the short amount of time spent with the vampire, despite the horror of last night—just seeing him felt like home. That everything would be fine, no matter what anyone else said. Simply because Chaol was there.
At that moment, there was nothing she wanted more than to drop the bags on the floor so she could curl up in his arms. To learn his scent and the comfort it would quickly bring once it became recognizable. To have the warmth of him encircle her—perhaps whisper sweet nothings and false promises to put her mind at ease.

Despite how strong that feeling was, despite how strong the pull of the vampire was—Elora just couldn't bring herself to take that step forward. Not when there was more at stake, not when she was sure he was still grieving the death of his wife. Yet she couldn't conceal the relief that filled her face, nor the longing mixed with worry that filled her eyes—despite putting on a forced smile.
"I'm home, but before you open your presents we need to talk a little." Elora started her words slow, unsure as worry captivated her every motion, every thought. Placing the bags down just at the front of the living room.

Moving towards his side, Elora sat down. Despite her best efforts, her brows started to knit together once more.
"So I lied about last night. Francine didn't come here by chance. She waited for you to leave and came to warn me about you. As if I didn't already know just what you were. I thought I eased her worries and I didn't want to tell you anything until I was sure I knew what she was. Because why would I want to worry you? But she is a witch, she confirmed it today. Well not outright—but she did. And now she thinks she is some vigilante of the town and you are on the top of her shit list." Unable to remain seated Elora stood up and started to pace. The panic she tried to keep at bay spilling over as she began to pace. "She heard about last night and she is really really mad. I told her you didn't mean it that it was an accident. But she said she wants to hurt you and she would do a spell to do it. But then Francine said she would come back tonight and hear what you have to say. Apparently, you did a number on that man last night—which I don't support. That was awful, but it was a misunderstanding and you didn't actually kill him—so I don't understand why everyone is so mad."

With a short pause to her ramble, Elora turned back to face Chaol, quickly walking over to him. Her hands finding his face—wide-eyed, fearful for his safety. "So you have to be on your best behavior tonight. I don't know how we are going to do that but at least pretend to be a little humble. I'll do anything you want afterward, but I don't want to see you get hurt. Frankie was really really mad. And she knew who you were the moment she saw you and apparently, you forgot who she was. She hates you—like a lot."

So much for calmly explaining the situation.
 
However valiantly Elora attempted to fight off the franticness that had consumed her ride home, there was only so much she could do to appear calm when her fast-beating heart only succeeded in betraying her. Having sat quietly on the couch in silence to await her return, the sound of the key in the lock did settle the growing unease, the growing desperation, in Chaol's heart as he lifted his head with a smile, eager to inspect the shopping and -perhaps most importantly- enjoy a fine glass of wine, given the long century his tastebuds had spent being deprived of the luxury.

Though being a Lord, and someone so tied to his own arrogance and ego, sampling the finest of wines wasn't so much a luxury as a birthright; a god-given demand that ought to be satisfied whenever he desired it.

Of course, things hit an immediate wall when he sensed the flustered nature of her heartbeat, the racing so unsubtle in pace that he almost stood to his feet in concern - though her appearance at his side, her hands reaching to take his cheeks and cradle his face closely, put an end to that desire. His brows needled together briefly as she clarified the situation, admitting at first the lie that had been told before revealing the truth behind Francine's deployed deception; the hatred darkening her heart towards him having spanned decades and only souring further as a result of his latest misdemeanour.

Elora choosing to stress the importance of him being on his best behaviour did register to him... on some distant level. He acknowledged the desperation beneath her emphasis, the desire she felt at wanting to spare him the wrath of a witch who was gifting him a chance that he perhaps shouldn't be granted after all he had done to personally offend and harm her, but for several long minutes, Chaol did nothing but remain sat upright, silent and brooding, as he digested the gravity of what he was being told.

The... threat that dangled over his head.

The fear that struck him before he could fight to erase it from laying a claim to his unbeating heart and mind.

He hadn't feared anyone for the longest time, not even giving the humans that succeeded in locking him away the satisfaction of seeing him paralysed by fear-- because it hadn't existed. Even when his paths crossed with other inhuman entities in decades gone by, Chaol had no reason to be fearful when, arrogantly, he deemed himself a superior being; someone situated at the very top of the food chain. Werewolves could cause him harm, but he never let them get close enough to do so, often delighting in mocking the ones he had come into contact with rather than keeping a safe distance - and witches were much the same. The few he had come to recognise as inhuman in his time on the earth weren't given any respect, instead being subjected to the sneering smirk that characteristically fell upon Chaol's features.

He didn't fear anyone-- and yet the emotion registered in him in a sharp, uncomfortable flash because if Francine had witnessed his actions in the past and harboured a hatred of him that had spanned the decades, then her threats weren't idle. They weren't to be ignored and brushed aside. His superiority, his arrogance, his ego... he couldn't allow it to blind him.

Because all at once, he remembered Francine at Athanasia's side, watching him closely in a way he naively thought had been reminiscent of idolisation and desire. In actuality, he now recognised the closeness of her observations to be distrustful; uneasiness. And if she had managed to pull the wool over his eyes, then she was smart; certainly smart enough to... kill him, if her powers had been nurtured over the century he had been locked away; left to weaken and grow fragile.

And to make matters worse, he hadn't even been gifted the luxury of a few more hours of awareness; of preparation.

Because Elora had held the truth, concealed it from him.

Whatever her justification, whatever her reasoning, it was yet another lie.

"The ease in which you continue to lie to me is staggering. I would show you sympathy, consider it a compulsion of sorts, but you have the clarity of mind to justify the lies, Elora. To defend your concealments. And that is indefensible. You... You are indefensible," he clarified sharply as he shoved her hands from his face with a forceful hand, not hard enough to physically bruise her but stern enough to lack the gentleness he usually tried to physically show to her. There was no desire on his part to make the effort to express such tenderness now when yet again he was having to endure feelings of hurt--

Made all the more intense when a mere ten minutes prior, he had been contemplating pulling her into his arms the moment she entered the home, making his feelings for her known and present.

So much for that idea.

"There is no 'we', Elora. We do not have to do anything. She will come tonight and I will not parade myself before her for judgement, nor will I feign behaviour that is not characteristic for me. I will be myself, and if she takes issue with it, I will snap her neck before she can utter so much as a fucking spell, do you understand me? I am not going to be on my best behaviour and pretend to be something I am not for some witch's approval. The fact you are asking me to do so--"

He exhaled sharply as he averted his gaze to the ceiling above him, fingers tapping against his knees as if that would keep his temper in check; under control.

"I know I am in no position to cast judgement when my actions have been regrettable-- but I have never lied to you. I have never... misled you. You, however, have deceived. Lied. Betrayed. We are not... compatible, Elora. We are not suited for one another. We can live together, be acquaintances, but friends? Partners? I don't see how that could be possible when I cannot trust you."
 
The force of Chaol's shove felt stronger than it truly was. Of course, the action did not cause her to stumble back, nor did he use enough strength to hurt her. However, the emotional hurt was there.
Elora slowly registering what just happened. His quick touch leaving an invisible sting on her flesh. An action that had been a double-edged blade that brought clarity back to her mind. Ceasing her panic—yet bringing a new assault to her mind. A new kind of pain that left her breathless, heart-shattering at the fact that Chaol didn't only shove her away, but rejected her. Watching as he took a more defensive stance—refusing to look at her, turning his eyes skyward as he scolded her.

All at once the house felt too cold. The warm inviting feeling she had once experienced suddenly disappeared from her. Once more she felt as alone in the manor as she had when she first moved in—unknown to her that someone was just waiting in the basement for her to unleash. The burning of her ears clashed with the cold paleness of her face, her fingers losing their warmth as her anxiety became rampant. Her ears roaring with the words Chaol had spewed out.

"You are indefensible…"

"There is no 'we'…"

"We are not compatible…"

Each word was equivalent to icy water being poured over her. Freezing her in spot, leaving her unable to speak. Unable to plead her defense. Worse yet Elora found she couldn't be justified in being angry at Chaol.
She had lied to him back to back, from the night before to this morning. He had every right to be angry, to feel hurt, to reject her. Worse yet, she couldn't figure out when she became such a lair. Was it because of her last relationship? A habit that Elora did not realize she had picked up. Or was she always this way? Perhaps that's why no one wanted to stay with her, perhaps that's why she always ended up alone.

It wasn't them, it was her. It had always been her.

She wanted to blame Franice for all of this. If that witch had never came to the manor last night, if she had never spoken with Elora about what Chaol was, about who he was—then all of this lying would have never happened. Elora could be watching Chaol trying on his new clothing, helping him with his phone, watching a stupid movie together. They could have watched the movie the night before, curled up in each other's arms.Perhaps that night Elora would have gained the courage to push their relationship further. To step out of the teasing era they were currently in, move onto a new era of intimacy that they both craved. But it was all ruined.

All because of Francine…

Yet—blaming her did not feel right either. It was Elora who chose to lie, who chose to betray Chaol. Elora couldn't be angry at anyone else but herself—not even Chaol as he sat there and poked at her character.

Perhaps…

Perhaps they were not meant for each other after all. That they would only continue to spark the flames of intimacy but would never ignite it. Even now, it appeared that little match had been snuffed out.

"Have you never lied to protect someone you cared about?" The question came from a small voice, from where Elora stood. Emotionally distant, an odd calmness filtering through that conflicted with the rest of her vitals.
"You've never withheld information from Athanasia or your friends because you thought it was the right thing to do? That it would protect them somehow?
Francien told me about her meetings with Athanasia. How you would be waiting just right around the corner—nervous that she would do something to her. I—thought I could spare you from those feelings of anxiety. We had talked about witches and werewolves that morning, and I know you said you weren't scared of them. But I thought that if I could figure out what Francine was, I could do something to protect you. I didn't realize how wrong that was."

Digging fingernails into the top of her hand, Elora took a step back from the man. Then another, and another. "I'm sorry Chaol…" with a forced smile that didn't come close to reaching her eyes, Elora shrugged tilting her head ever so slightly. "I guess the only monster here is me, huh?" There was a short pause before Elora placed her hands back at her side, attempting to stop herself from picking at her hand.

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but I do care about you…a lot. I'm just sorry I messed everything up and keep hurting you. You probably want your space. I got you a phone and your wine. It might be best to stay out for a little while. Maybe I can stop Francine from coming over. As much as I believe you'll stop her from saying any spells—I would just rather not take that chance."
 
Have you never lied to protect someone you cared about?

The words struck a chord in Chaol, rendering him not only speechless but provoking a visible reaction in him as he found his eyes sharply navigating to the human. Before they had been uttered, he had kept his gaze averted from her for the obvious reason of not wanting to witness the effect the coldness of his words would have on her because, as justified as he felt in muttering them, he wasn't naive to how hurtful they would be to Elora.

And despite the pain she had caused him and his own hurt that stemmed from continually feeling as though she was making a habit of deceiving him (regardless of the good intentions she felt she had in doing so), he didn't want to have to witness the smile he adored so much falling from her face, replaced instead with a frown that was far from subtle in the pain that lingered beneath it. He wanted to spare her from those emotions, not be the one to cause them to exist in her - but that pain was inevitable now, the sharpness of his remarks and the rejection to her attempts to physically comfort him having only one reaction.

But there was no ignoring the effect her own words would have on him as she posed that question, perhaps unaware of how deep it would register within Chaol as all anger and hurt momentarily erased themselves from his expression. In their place bloomed contemplation, his brows knitting together as rather than dismiss the question and simply tie himself to his hurt feelings, the vampire found himself incapable of fighting off the chance to inspect her words; to... reach the conclusion that he couldn't entirely judge her for her deceptions when he was entirely guilty of the same behaviour himself.

Behaviour he had exhibited because he wanted to spare someone from being hurt.

Behaviour he had justified at the time in much the same way Elora was justifying her behaviour to him now.

He had lied, deceived, disguised... all for the sake of sparing someone he loved and cared about. It was an act made from protectiveness, not from cruelty.

And yet here he was, casually dismissing Elora as the 'bad guy' in a situation where, if nothing else, she had only consistently shown the extent of the care she felt for Chaol. Perhaps that level of care was arguably confusing when they were still strangers, and perhaps others in Chaol's position would look upon it oddly... but to him, to someone who genuinely believed in the existence of love at first sight (or at least, love's decision to arrive regardless of how early into an interaction it was), Elora's dedication wasn't uneasy or something to be wary of.

It was a sign that she harboured emotions similar to his own.

That she was... perhaps always destined to be here with him, at his side, defending him to the hilt despite having every reason to run for the hills and save herself the trouble a life with someone like Chaol produced.

Even now, when he was dismissing her efforts to protect him, she stood where she was, backed away but still present.

Still... with him.

When he stood to his feet, he knew deep down that the silence of his movements and the wordlessness that proceeded to dominate would be unnerving. Given what she had witnessed a mere night before, Elora would be justified in believing that Chaol was slipping back into that demeanour once again; losing control and allowing the darkness to wash back over him as his emotions robbed him of his clarity of mind and freedom of thought.

But he had no such intentions. His control remained firmly in place as he made his way to her, his eyes still a bright hazel and teeth flat, no visible sign of sharpness to interfere with their straightness. He only paused when he was a mere few inches from her, so close that he could feel her breath touch his cheek; hear her heart thud like a drum in his own head.

"You are apologising for behaviour that I myself have exercised in my past. I have lied to Athanasia to protect her. Pretended to be clueless rather than aware just to spare her heartbreak. And I believe I did the right thing in doing so. I wanted to preserve her happiness because nothing made me happier than seeing her content. Just as nothing makes me happier than seeing you smile; hearing you laugh. I... despise myself for being the one to so consistently rob you of it, Elora. I am the one that is sorry."

Nodding softly for emphasis, a hand finally reached across to make contact with her, the cold of his fingers resting against the warmth of her cheek. He smiled to himself as he noted the contrast, though his eyes remained entirely fixed down upon her own, now refusing to rid himself of the gaze that he had been actively trying to avoid not even a minute prior.

"...I will be on my best behaviour when Francine comes tonight. I will be charming. I will apologise for my actions and win her over as best I can. Because if you wish that, Elora, if that is what you ask of me, I will do it. I... will do anything for you. Because like Athanasia, your happiness is all I wish for. It is my soul's very desire."
 
The shape gaze received from the vampire after her question froze the young woman in place once more. Believing that she had crossed yet another line she shouldn't have. Believing the expression on his face was a contemplation on whether he should end her life there or later tonight. The fear causing her to ramble, to keep defending herself. The words pouring out until the vampire stood up. Eerily calmly. Slowly walking towards her without a single word, walking closer and closer still until he was in her space—not uttering a single word. The silence painful—overwhelmingly so.

Despite his eyes remaining clear, his teeth remaining unsharpened—docile in Chaol's default state of being. Elora couldn't register any of it, her fear spilling over believing the incident from last night was doomed to repeat itself. Elora mentally tried to prepare for his mockery, for his hand to wrap around her throat, tenderly squeezing as to ensure her that he was capable of ending her very existence.
Once more Elora had found she couldn't keep her mouth shut. Bringing up Athanasia was surely a sore topic, one that would inflame the wrath of Chaol in a matter of seconds. Who was she to even comment on their relationship? She did not know the princess, she barely knew Chaol. Elora had no right poking and prodding at such things.

Yet, by some miracle, my Chaols own restraint that anger was nowhere to be found. Nor was his cruelty or condescending rage. Instead came the soft, tender voice she had come to love. By some miracle, this 'evil lord' found a way to forgive her. Found it within his heart to understand her reasonings, not liking it but accepting her mistake.

A breath of air hot brushed passed Chaol's cheek. Elora releasing the breath she wasn't aware of holding. Blue eyes fading back to life, the light brighter than before as it finally made contact with amber. An amber that she had come to adore. His touch though cold and contrasting to the heat of her cheeks, was more than welcomed. His touch mixed with the low hum of his voice reaching Elora faster than she thought possible. Forcefully yanking her from a spiral of emotions that had consumed her entity. Allowing her to breathe.

"Because like Athanasia, your happiness is all I wish for. It is my soul's very desire."

Elora couldn't say she believed she deserved those words. Deserved his kindness after such a horrible misunderstanding. She did not believe she deserved that admiration from the same man that Athanasian had once received. Elora couldn't say she deserved to be with Chaol after so much hurt she had already put him through—despite him also hurting her along the way.

Yet it was those words that sprung a sudden action into the woman. An action that might have not been in the best timing, but it did not seem like there would ever be a right timing for the two. Their confessions always seeming to go awry, always seemed to be distracted by some other disaster—some other misunderstandings that were out of both their control.

Instead of pulling away, instead of arguing his kind words—his promise to behave that night. Chaol would find Elora's hand come to the one that currently held her cheek. Pressing it closer, moving as she closed the distance between the two. Her body demanding they become closer, craving more from him than she thought would be accepted. Her lips pressing firmly to his, before she pulled away—watching and judging his reaction, scared of just what he would do or say.

Elora filling the silence before his rejection could possibly start.

"I'm sorry too Chaol. I shouldn't have lied to you or tried to keep all these secrets. It's not fair to you. Perhaps, if you are willing, we could just start over." Her words breathy, an air of nervousness flowing through them—eyes begging for him to not only accept her request but to accept her and the flaws that have been brought to light.
 
Though he hoped his words would be received positively, that the vulnerability presented would be accepted rather than rejected or simply diminished, he couldn't entirely blame Elora if she took a step back from him - both physically and metaphorically. He could understand if his words appeared to be overstepping a mark, crossing some invisible boundary into disconcerting territory - because though he believed that love didn't have to take weeks to bloom (as him falling headfirst into the emotion the very second he set eyes on Athanasia served to prove), he could hardly expected Elora to feel the same way.

Especially when it would be hard for her to comprehend developing any of those heartfelt emotions for someone who wasn't even human. Chaol had now had centuries to acclimatise to what he was, to understand that there were countless other beings that shared the ground he himself walked upon and spent their days existing beneath the same sun that so often warmed his skin, but Elora had only had a handful of days to try and soak in that knowledge.

It was understandably overwhelming, and even if she appeared to take the news at face value, she would be entirely justified to claim to find it a difficult thing to fully adjust to - so even if he felt she harboured feelings for him, how could he truly expect her to want to act upon them this quickly?

Especially when she had already witnessed his loss of control; his descent into the animalistic brutality of a vampire void of empathy and motivated only by cruelty and bloodlust. He might have succeeded in pulling himself back from the brink before he could devastate an innocent family's life by tearing them of a loved one, but it didn't mean he hadn't hurt Elora in the meantime; potentially poisoned her view of him to such an extent that it would take some time to fully rebuild itself.

...But then she kissed him.

She kissed him.

If there had been any doubt in the back of Chaol's mind that the intensity of his desire for Elora was misjudged or misplaced, then the kiss placed gently to his lips would clear those away without hesitation. All at once, he knew in his heart that what he felt was true and genuine - because only once before had a kiss made him feel the way he presently felt, and that had been with a woman who later went on to become his wife; a woman he had loved with his entire heart. He could never have believed that that very same heart had been holding out for someone else to occupy a place within it; that he had held back enough love to lavish on someone else who could bring him the same happiness, the same contentment and peace, that Athanasia had brought him a century prior.

And yet here that very someone was, stood before him with the smile he had come to adore.

There would be time later on to tease her about succeeding in their silent game of trying to get the other to break first; to flaunt that triumph in her face and spend the next few years constantly reminding her of her failure to succeed over him - but right now, his time had to be dedicated to reciprocating the affection. To allowing all the desire, all the temptation, that had built up to finally find its release in the form of embracing Elora. Holding her close, feeling her in his arms, establishing a new normal that he had grown to yearn from her in such a short time.

And so, finding himself unable to answer her questions immediately with a verbal response, he chose to provide her them through physicality - by reaching to rest one hand on her waist and the other to the small of her back, the latter's position subsequently allowing him to push her lightly forward until they were pressed in close together once more. Once the proximity was established, Chaol dipped his head, strands of hair falling with devilish handsomeness over eyes that fluttered closed, and inched forward to return the kiss, lips capturing her own with deliberate softness, not wanting to imbue the moment with the passion he otherwise felt when he didn't want to overwhelm her.

If things went well, there would also be time for them to explore things-- but he wanted that to be on her terms, not his own.

"Start over... we can do that, of course we can. Or we can start anew. Start fresh. Build... something else together," he breathed out slowly once breaking to allow her a moment to take in a breath, a smirk dancing on his lips as he momentarily basked in the fact he didn't need to do such a thing anymore, memories briefly flashing to mind of his days as a human having to gulp in air after a few heated kisses with one of the maids in his family's employ.

"I don't wish for you to grow big-headed, Elora, but... you have captured my heart in such a way that I know living without you would be impossible for me. That even living with you as friends would be torturous for me because I yearn for your touch, your warmth, your embrace. Having had a taste of you, I'm not sure I can... ever deprive myself of it," he whispered, more than aware that his tone had become flirtatious, seductive even, as a huskiness was introduced - but when was there a better time to flirt with her than right now, after expressing his desire and affection for her? "...If you wish to be friends only, then friends we shall be. But just be aware that I cannot stop myself from admiring your beauty. From desiring you in my arms, where I can protect you from the world and proudly call you my own. I want you; every part of you."
 
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