I’VE LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS ; p

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]This had been a long time coming. Weeks had passed since the first nightmare Suiteheart had suffered, and after each day that passed, she was left with more questions than answers. The horrible dreams had started off obscure and faint in the beginning, but Margaery’s death had spurred something within her consciousness that shifted everything: the death of her wife had made everything so much more vivid. In fact, in the last few days, it was as if she could not escape her nightmares in waking.

Every time she was faced with deep shadows, she found dark emerald eyes staring back at her. Every time she felt a moment of serenity, it was destroyed by phantom feelings of something piercing her chest, leaving her unable to breathe. Every time she blinked, different flash images of strange places passed in front of her vision. Every time she looked at Margaery, she could only see that rag doll with eyes that held storms on the seas.

The white feline could take it no more. Not knowing what the hell was going on made her sick. It was as if years of the lives of others were passing before her eyes, and she was exhausted. She felt as though she were crumbling underneath the weight of an ancient curse. Perhaps the worst part of it was that any time Suite looked to Margy for answers, she was given nothing but a sad, sad stare.

The Ecliptic Admiral had pushed. Margaery was obviously not letting go of some pieces of information. Suiteheart could feel her wife holding her breath, terrified of the knowledge she was withholding, but she had to know. At night, before they slept - before the nightmares descended upon her, killing what was left of her stability as they leaked into reality -, she would ask her wife if she knew what it meant. Silence. In the early hours of the morning after fighting for her life only to die in her dreams, she asked her wife what this all was. Silence. Throughout the day, whenever she was greeted by the ghosts of her nightmares, she begged her wife to know why this was happening. Silence.

Silence.

Feeling equal parts dejected and rejected, the fae decided to take another leave. While her last departure had been a day, this one had been four. She had turned the bond off but not before explaining to Margaery that she could not physically or mentally take these nightmares, the visions, whatever they were, any longer. It was killing her. Without giving time for her wife to respond, she shut the bond off. Everything felt so much darker in those four days that she was surprised she had survived. Instead of flash images in waking, she saw entire scenes unfold before her.

She felt like she had lost her mind entirely, and her last name felt so cruel in those moments. It meant madness, and perhaps that was fitting for her. All she could do was crumble though. She couldn’t wrap her mind around any of this, and Margaery was not providing answers to questions she clearly knew. Suiteheart felt trapped and alone and, ultimately, terrified.

On the fourth day, the white feline returned. She wore her weariness obviously: her movements were slow and she stumbled here and there, too tired to walk normally. Those baby blue eyes that were usually bright and happy were now dull and empty. She looked like a shell of her former self, but she had come for answers. She needed them. She had to have them.

She did not stop moving until she reached the room she shared with Margaery. The femme collapsed into a sitting position in the middle of the room, and her head felt like it was swimming as it tried to make sense of what she was seeing. The room she knew like the back of her paw morphed into a wooded clearing, but if she concentrated, she could still make out objects in the room. She could see the bookshelf and the photographs on the wall, but the forest was choking out everything else. In the back of her mind, Suite was positive she would soon no longer be able to tell the difference between these visions and the real world.

The woods were silent, but she could hear the hustle and bustle of the Observatory from outside the room. A voice called out to her, Suite turned, and she saw the familiar rag doll. The other female’s eyes were stained with tears, and she wore heartbreak on her features so clearly that it hurt. It was that moment that Suiteheart turned the bond back on because she needed to be wrapped in something familiar while walking beside these horrible visions.

’I’m in our room. We need to talk... Please,’ she sent through the bond. Suiteheart hoped the desperation in the message would be enough to bring Margaery forward.

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Four days.

Suiteheart had been gone for four days.

The bond was off.

And Margaery was numb.

There was no warmth, no love, no sly remarks or witty comments... Suiteheart had willingly decided to sever herself from Margaery and then disappear and that absolutely killed the Lunar Lieutenant. History had the nasty tendency to repeat itself - especially when it came to she and Suite - and the chocolate point couldn’t sleep unless she knew that her wife was safe and out of danger’s way. But without the bond... well, it was impossible to tell if Suite was even alive. Her only option was to practically drink herself into such a state that nothing mattered except for blood and alcohol. She felt nothing, experienced nothing, wanted nothing. All she cared about for those four days was her wine and her blood and the way that the monster tempted her with promises of power.

Despite her perpetual drunken state, she was still troubled. It was her fault that Suite had to leave... her fault that she was plagued with nightmares of a time that history forgot... her fault that her wife was being forced to witness a life that wasn’t exactly hers. She wanted to tell Suiteheart everything. She wanted to make things right. But she couldn’t. Not if she wished to keep not only Suite, but herself protected. If her wife were to truly wake up... Margaery might actually cease to be- an outcome that she was sure nobody wanted.

Poor Maarit. The pearl who’s innocence was ripped from her too soon. She could have lived and died without touching another soul, her smiles and charm getting her much farther than her teeth and claws. It was the loss of her siblings and one of her uncles that drove her grandmother into cursing them. All of them. It was her wretched, awful grandmother who made the words “always and forever” a bitter reminder of their eternal damnation. Stronger. Smarter. Immortal. But at what price? But at what price? Maarit died the day that her father murdered Erlend. Margaery was born from the blood and tears of her sorrow.

Maarit Mikaelson. Margaery Mikaelson. They were once two sides of the same coin- a happy girl who led a happy life with a happy family. How could she have fallen so low?

Surprisingly, Margaery was not drunk today. She had merely resorted to existing, her copper stare cold and empty as she stared at the blank page of a hundred year old journal. She longed for some semblance of feeling, for Suite, but nothing was there except for-

And suddenly, everything hit her, heart skipping a beat as the bond was reignited and she was once more connected to her wife. Margaery’s first instinct was to be angry, her rage - cold and bitter - rising like a poison in her chest. She swallowed it down though, an unexpected wave of calm washing over her only as she heard Suite’s words. As tired and desperate as they sounded, they still originated from her wife. She was okay. She was okay.

But Suite wanted answers.

And Margaery.... she didn’t know if she could give her answers.

But she couldn’t ignore her, not again. Every time Suite has brought up the nightmares, Margaery had found a way to avoid the truth, offering her silence or worse- an excuse. She couldn’t tell her. It’d destroy Suite. It’d make her question everything. But what then could she do? Suite wasn’t going to be appeased by silence forever and soon enough, Nik would be here to start the cycle anew.

In a way, she supposed it was now or never.

[color=#b14767]”Mea vita,” Was all she breathed upon arrival, entering their shared room and making sure that the door was properly locked. She briefly looked around, noting their pictures and decor and feeling a pang of hurt over the fact that soon, all this would be a terrible memory when her father came to collect what was his. [color=#b14767]”I... look, I can’t tell you. I want to. I want to with my entire heart.... but some secrets are best left buried. I will ask you this though: do the names Maarit and Erlend sound familiar, love?”

It was all she could afford to give her without ruining the delicate balance of things. If the names managed to spur some memory in Suite, then she would call it a day and work to pick up what surely would be the remnants of her wife. If they didn’t... she supposed she was out of options then.

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]Bitterness. Anger.

Those were the first two emotions she felt, and Suiteheart almost flinched at how powerful they both were in that first moment. Before Margaery could toss aside those feelings, the Ecliptic Admiral wanted to call her wife a hypocrite. Time and time again, Margaery had shut off the bond they shared. She had looked Suiteheart dead in the eyes and severed what held them so closely together. She had cut and hacked and sliced at the mental connection on countless occasions. Never once did Suite get angry, only curious as to why she felt the need for it, and Margaery often got angry at her questioning. It fucking pained her almost more than the nightmares to know how hypocritical her wife was being in that moment.

She sighed and bit back her own feelings of anger that were bubbling just underneath her skin. She had come looking for answers not fights. The last thing she wanted to do was plunge headfirst into another fight with the Lunar Lieutenant. A pang of sadness ripped through her as she realized that, as of late, most of their discussions had ended in arguments - their last argument had resulted in Suiteheart taking leave.

She shut her eyes tightly, before another strange vision could assault her. The forest she had been seeing was closing in on her, and it was so difficult the breathe. She felt so hopelessly lost and confused, and she hated for Margaery to feel that. She so often tried to be strong in the face of things such as this, but these visions were overwhelming... How could her wife not see that? How could she not feel that? For over a month, her life had been an absolute living hell, and Margaery offered nothing but silence, excuses, and saddened looks.

Suiteheart was sad, but she tried not to be. Not now. No, now, she needed fucking answers. If Margaery could not offer them, then she would leave again. She would vanish. She would shut off the bond and hope and pray to find the solution to her problems away from her wife, away from the Ascendants, because being haunted by her own unknown memories was too much.

Before she could make any totally rash decisions, Margaery was slipping in the door. Baby blue eyes opened to see the chocolate point making sure the door would remain closed. The voice of Margaery presented her with some relief, but that was short-lived. The wave of pain she felt on Margaery's end began to wash away her tranquility, and the words her wife spoke completely shattered it.

"No," she began, feeling her anger rise up once more. "I don't care if shit should remain a secret, Margaery! I deserve to know." Her words were harsh, desperate, and it sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. "You can't keep shutting me out. Not about this. Look at me. Look at me!" She seemed smaller than normal, a shell of what she was supposed to be. Lack of sleep had robbed her of her bravado, and her eyes were dimmed. She looked and felt awful.

She opened her mouth to say more, but her ears caught the names and would not let go.

Maarit. Erlend.

The answer to Margaery's question was on the tip of her tongue. She closed her mouth, trying to find the words. Her mind was working overtime. Sights and sounds assaulted her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. She knew those names, but she did not know those names. A large chunk of her being felt rattled by the names, and her head felt like it was about to explode. She placed a paw to the side of her head in an attempt to settle her warring mind, but it was of no use. Her speech failed her for a brief moment, and she was left stumbling and stuttering.

The image of a smiling feline passed over her mind's eye, and she knew that face. She knew that ragdoll. She knew those eyes. Her head was screaming and spinning, and she felt as though she were about to pass out. All at once, she was reminded of the dream she had had after Margaery's death. She had been sat in a clearing of wildflowers, and that ragdoll had called her Erlend.

Suiteheart gritted her teeth, and her face contorted in pain and confusion. What the fuck was this? What was her brain trying to tell her? "I don't know. I don't - I - ... don't," she tried, voice sounding strained. She felt something growing stronger just underneath the surface of her being. She could feel its power surging through her, and the temptation to give in was overwhelming. However, she pushed that as far down as she could in her weakened state. She could still hear its whispers, but it was so strange... It sounded like nine different individuals. She shook her head quickly, dismissing her odds thoughts.

"I-I don't..."

Her head hurt too much to speak.

She inhaled, growing agitated with herself. This was fucking stupid. She never should have done this. She should have backed off and asked Radeken for pills to make her forget. She should have just run away from her problems like she did with everything else. Maybe then things would be fine. Maybe then none of this would be happening. "Just fucking tell me! Stop beating around the bush!" she finally screamed as tears pricked her eyes, but she could barely her herself over the roaring in her ears. Both paws were now covering her ears, but she couldn't escape the lifetimes she was hearing. Her eyes were closed so tightly, but she could not run from the nightmarish visions. She wanted it to stop. She needed it all to stop. Her heart was pounding.

Maarit and Erlend. Erlend and Maarit.

Why wouldn't it all just be silent?

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Margaery knew that she was a hypocrite, a bad person. She clung to Suiteheart and the bond possessively and snipped and severed their connection whenever it was convenient for her. She never once asked Suite. She never once apologized. But the moment Suite even thought to do the same, she grew defensive and angry and bitter. She hated that about herself. Hated that she could not so easily grant her wife her same freedoms. Maybe it was because, without Suiteheart, Margaery could not generate a spark or any emotion save apathy. After three years of being bonded, her soul was too closely intertwined with Suiteheart’s and some complications ensued the moment that they were disconnected. Even for a moment. She wished it didn’t have to be that way, that she and her wife could just turn the bond on and off at their own discretion and not rob one another of comfort, security, companionship, feeling.  But things weren’t easy like that. In over a millennia, things had never been easy for them.

She could feel her wife’s sadness, her anger. She wanted to make it go away, shooing the nightmares back into the dark recesses of Suite’s mind and promising that they would never return to haunt her. But she couldn’t do that. She had to either continue to play dumb and pretend as if she didn’t see the forest -big and looming and full of danger... no, she was the danger - or tell the truth. But both outcomes... Suite would reject her. They’d fall apart just as they had fallen together and Margaery would watch as her last source of happiness fell between her fingers. Again. She didn’t want that. Couldn’t deal with that. But Suite was falling apart and while the truth would surely be a death sentence for Margaery, she couldn’t stand to watch the only girl she had loved over the course of her long life be destroyed into unrepairable pieces.

Her words cut through the air like a knife, causing something to twist inside Margaery, her own monsters stirring at their harsh sound. She felt dizzy suddenly, the ground rushing up to meet her as she slid onto her stomach, unable to stand any longer. Gray eyes would blink, once, twice, three times, and they were gray no longer, but she was not the monster. Far from it actually. Far from it. An ancient sadness seemed to radiate from her now and, feeling significantly better, she stood and neared Suite only to pull her into an embrace.

Her wife was a shell of the being she once was and it was not Margaery’s fault, but Maarit’s. She could see the visions, see Suite desperately attempting to make the connection between herself and that ragdoll. She wanted to yell, to tell her lover that she was Maarit, that they had a history splattered with love and blood, brief happiness and terrible loss. But she couldn’t. Not until she started yelling and that calm presence - Maarit - was drowned out by the monster.

See, the innocent girl that Margaery was at her core could not remain out to play for very long. Unlike her modern day counterpart, she didn’t realize how much control one needed to exert over the monster to keep it chained and shackled in the back of her mind. All three of them were the same, yes, but Margaery had repressed those two sides of herself so entirely that they had formed different entities in and of themselves.  Maarit made few appearances, her tenderness not often appreciated by Margaery. The monster saw that shift as its chance to take control and so here it was.

Ready to right all the terrible wrongs of Margaery and Maarit combined.

She watched as Suite covered her ears with both paws. She refused to break the embrace though, refused to release her even as the terrible monster she was. [color=#b14767]”Love,” She began, that single word drenched in ancient power, [color=#b14767]”I can’t tell you... but I can show you.”

And with that, she sent everything down the bond. Every memory. Every death. Every conversation that they had shared and every time they had been ripped apart. Maarit and Erlend. The originals. But there were more too, more versions of themselves than they could count. Margaery could never had done this, neither could painfully sweet Maarit. It had to be the beast and all her lack of care, it had to be the being that so closely resembled Suite’s murderer.

She saw the forest. Fields of flowers. Streets. Village squares. Castles. She saw everything. She could feel that too-long history engulfing her, threatening to swallow her whole. She couldn’t imagine what Suite might be seeing. What she might be experiencing. It had to be tenfold this. Everything that she knew... it had been a lie.

Surely, she’d hate Margaery for that.

And once the deed was done, the monster permitted the Lunar Lieutenant to assume control, those blood-colored eyes fading back to stormy blues. She was crying, shuddering like a leaf in the wind as she held her wife.

[color=#b14767]”I’m sorry, Erlend...” She whispered, wondering how many times the name had nearly slipped off her tongue. It felt right to use now... Suite knew the truth. She knew who she was. What she was made to do. [color=#b14767]”It’s my family’s fault that you were damned... You should have been able to live and die in that village but we couldn’t let you go. We turned you into a monster too, and my grandfather helped you become something who’s only goal was to kill us. My father once loved you, sweet Erlend, he once loved the idea of us together. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’ve had to live a millennia of pain and suffering because of me.”

“Because of Maarit.”

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]The embrace from her lover had done little to comfort her. The simple act of the hug did spark something within the white feline, however. The air around Margaery had shifted, morphing into an archaic feeling. Suiteheart felt the air flee from her lungs, felt the electricity of the moment course through her being. Images dotted her mind's eye and then she was drowning in those eyes that contained stormy seas, the ones she had seen time and time again. Suiteheart knew her name. It rested on the tip of her tongue, but she knew it.

That force deep within her was rising. Flashes of various colors lit up her line of sight and a cacophony of sound blew up in her ears, so loud she didn't hear Margaery's words. Suite was crying now. She felt so completely lost and disconnected from the world that she was supposed to be living in. Large tears dripped down her face, and for the first time, she was grateful for her tears because they blinded her from everything her mind was forcing her to see.

Within heartbeats, her torrent of tears could not save her any longer.

Suiteheart stopped. All at once, she halted completely. Her eyes glazed over and gained a faraway look, but they were shifting from left to right and back again, repeatedly, in milliseconds. Her mouth was open, and it moved in a soundless manner as if she were trying to speak but could not find her words. Her breathing would shift from quick and unsteady to slow and sure from one moment to the next. She was trembling now, too. The strange force inside of her had grown and the burst, flooding all of her senses. She was struggling underneath the weight of one thousands years of memories.

The first thing she was greeted with was a vast forest, like the one she had seen moments ago. After that, she was housed within castle walls, staring at royal guards. The next image was that of a tent of satin curtains and crystal balls. The fourth image was the den of a healer and herbs were scattered around the place. Seconds later, she was inside of a jail; chains and posts were all around her. Charred lands gathered around her next and fires dotted the scene. Shortly afterwards, a field of flowers and a ring of trees kept her safe. Then, bookshelf after bookshelf rose up and a pair of glasses were at her side. Heartbeats passed and she stood face-to-face with a wanted poster that brandished her picture. Finally, she could see the surroundings she was just in - her room. The ten different moments in time then layered together on top of one another. Objects faded in and out as each time period fought to be heard first. Before she could pick (as if she even had the option), the ten different scenes morphed into something horrible, and Suiteheart was assaulted with every second at once.

Erlend. Bristol. Sybil. Asa. Damiana. Griffin. Hyacinth. Lorelei. Aerona.

Suiteheart.

Year after year crashed into her frame of mind with the force of a ton of bricks. Her tears did not cease their flow, and a dreadful scream escaped her lips as the pain was too terrible. Her head felt as though it would explode within seconds. Her chest was tight. Her breathing was ragged.

Green eyes. Green eyes. Green eyes.

She screamed louder as she pictured her death nine times over. Each time, she was murdered by the same individual. She could see nine different versions of him, and each one was headed for her. She remained still, too scared to move, but she continued to sob and beg for this to stop. "No! Please!" she pleaded, feeling phantom claws sink into her chest. "Go away! Go away!" She shut her eyes once again, but she could not run from her murderer. She could not escape that awful, green stare.

"I'm sorry, Erlend."

Just like seconds before her world forever changed, seconds before her soul shattered as it gave a part of itself to each 100 years of her life, Suiteheart stopped. Her baby blues flew open, and she looked into the storms Margaery's eyes held. The chocolate point was different: a layered vision rested over her lover's appearances, showing a ragdoll. A heavy silence fell over her as she listened to Margaery's words. She showed no signs of hearing them, but inwardly, Suiteheart was grasping at them, trying to understand. Erlend. Suiteheart. Erlend. Suiteheart. Erlend.

Erlend.

Erlend.

The white feline stirred. Her eyes slowly closed and then leisurely opened. Her posture shifted into something sharper, more rigid. Everything about her suggested this was someone entirely different but not unfamiliar. This individual carried all the fire and rage of Suiteheart's primal side, but she was as cool and calm as the surface of an undisturbed pool of water. A smile surfaced upon her features, and it was not lopsided. It tugged at both corners of her lips, and it was as soft as the morning sun. When she spoke, her voice contained notes of an ancient world, and it carried the lilt of something akin to a Norwegian accent.

"Hello, my beautiful pearl. It has been a very, very long time."

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

One thousand years of Margaery stumbling upon her counterpart by mere chance and relishing in the few years they shared together.

Or, if you wanted to call it by what it really was: one thousand years of heartbreak.

She was suddenly painfully aware of every bittersweet moment she spent with Bristol. Sybil. Asa. Damiana. Griffin. Hyacinth. Lorelei. Aerona. Suiteheart. She could see those baby blues, beautiful eyes that remained the same even as her sweet, sweet Erlend changed and became an entirely new person - entirely new people; strangers that she found herself falling for despite the world - her father - telling her not to. Maarit and Genevieve felt it as well, overwhelmed by a past that they had tried so desperately to escape. There was something else too, an ancientness that was not evil, just dormant. She felt it stir inside of her, disturbed by Suiteheart’s own agony. It seized control for but a moment, stormy gray eyes turning the same shade of green that presently haunted her wife. [color=#b14767]”Sybil,” She croaked, voice heavy with an accent that was far from Margaery’s own.

Luckily, the creature was far from strong enough to remain in control and soon Margaery was back, her embrace only tightening. Suiteheart was a sobbing mess and in spite of herself, her own tears flowed fast and heavy from her gray eyes. The bond felt as if it was straining under the sheer volume of emotion that the pair was exerting upon it and Margaery suddenly grew worried that it would snap lest one of them calmed down. But she couldn’t, not with Suite crying and mouthing silent words and breathing so irregularly. Not with her screaming. Not with her telling Margaery’s father to go away. To get away from her. It had been so long since she had seen Niklaus and yet, his image presented itself crystal clear to her, that arrogant smirk curving a ginger and white hued maw. ”It had to be done love,” His voice rang in her ears, ”How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m simply doing my job as a good father and protecting you. Now, run along, go see what your uncle Elijah has to say.”

What was she supposed to do?

How was she supposed to help?

Genevieve had opened the floodgates and then relinquished control as if it had been nothing, leaving Margaery to reassemble the shattered pieces of her wife. Maarit was silent once more, returning to her state of quiet compliancy. And then there was that new version of herself, the one that had not surfaced in what Margaery believed to be eight hundred years. Sybil. She wanted Sybil. Was it Ingrid? Had she somehow been made into her own entity just as Maarit and Genevieve had been? There were so many questions and then there was the matter of Suiteheart still crying and Margaery... well, Margaery felt as if her world was about to implode.

She saw forests again, and castles, and fields of wildflowers, and wanted posters. She saw ten different versions of Suiteheart - eight who had loved her fiercely, one that had betrayed her, and one that had been her partner in crime. But all that mattered as Suiteheart returned to herself was that rigid posture, that smile that was too unlike her wife, those words.

Let me talk to her. Please. I need to.

The voice of course belonged to Maarit, desperation clinging to it. Margaery was not so willing to simply hand over control but in this situation, as she stared face to face with the being that could only be Erlend, she knew she had to. Besides, she couldn’t handle the physical pain of being tethered to Suiteheart as she relived a millennia of lives, even as things began to grow quiet once more.

So she gave Maarit what she wanted.

[color=#b14767]”Erlend... You remember me right? It’s Maarit, it’s me. I’ve missed you more than you know, dulcis. I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry that you were doomed to live this life-“

She was suddenly cut off, Genevieve seeing her moment and taking it by once more seizing control when poor, weak Maarit was present. Gray eyes would flicker copper and she would grin, her entire demeanor changing as well. [color=#b14767]”Give me Aerona. I need her. Give her to me now or I’ll kill you before my father gets the chance to,” She hissed, voice low and venomous.

Genevieve had been denied Aerona for close to a hundred years. She needed her partner in crime, needed the one being that understood her only slightly. She knew that Aerona didn’t care about anyone but herself but that didn’t matter to Genevieve. Not when her presence was enough to remind the monster that she was not as completely and utterly alone as she believed herself to be.

”Genevieve, stop!”

Maarit.

”Genevieve, you are in no position to be handling this situation. Allow myself or Maarit to take back over. Please.”

Margaery.

”Sybil. Unde amans est?

Oh, how interesting. This must be Ingrid.

It seemed like Genevieve wasn’t the only one with special requests.

Huffing a bit, Genevieve rocked back and forth on a heel, deciding to at least see if Aerona would surface before humoring Margaery or Maarit or even the elusive Ingrid.

Suiteheart... if you can hear me, don’t let Aerona out. Don’t humor Genevieve. I love you, I’m so sorry that this is happening.

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]The name that tumbled passed Margaery's lips, caused a momentary lapse of agony. Suiteheart's emotions ceased for a fraction of a second. Her posture shifted, becoming loose and relaxed yet reclusive. The scenery around her changed, shifting slowly into that of satin tent. The air of cool mystery wreathed her, and in Margaery's place, all her eyes (which still appeared to be gazing far off) could see was a ginger and white tabby with a piercing emerald stare. "Ingrid, amor meus in aeternum." Suite - who was now channeling Sybil -, opened her mouth to speak again, but shut it quickly.

Suiteheart had regained control, and a frightened look was displayed on her features. She had just spoken clear Latin. Her voice had been warped and was an octave lower, but it had come from her mouth. The terror transformed into a pained look as her head began feeling like it had been set on fire. She could not wrap her mind around any of this, and everything inside of her was screaming. It felt like an intense storm was raging within her body, and she could not calm it. Nothing could calm it.

Her tears returned, full force, as Margaery enveloped her in a hug. Suiteheart tried. She tried to find comfort in the embrace, but she was continuously begin pulled this way and that - far away from her solace. Like Margaery, Suite could feel the overexertion of the bond. The pressure of this moment, of 1000 years of moments, was scrambling their mental connection. The Ecliptic Admiral held tightly to it, fearful it was on the verge of collapse.

And it would be her fault.

It would be her fault if her intense emotions shattered what tied them so closely together. But it hurt to hold on to. It hurt her so badly, and the pain was only intensifying as the years flew by. She wondered, for a brief time, if Margaery would be angry if she let go. If Suite let go, if she succumbed to the acute emotional distress of centuries gone by, would her wife be angry? If she pushed herself away from the pain Genevieve was causing, would Margaery hate her forever? Suite wanted to deny what was staring her in the face. She wanted to flee from this, from the chaos of her mind because it was killing her.

And then Erlend had surfaced. An ancient calm had overtaken her senses, and she knew it was not Margaery's. She fell into it anyway. Her mental state was collapsing under everything, and she willingly released control to whomever was gently asking for it. The soul was so balanced, so much like her own, that it was hard to protest it. Suite receded, passing the baton to the oldest existence. The being - her being - thanked her kindly, promised to explain things later, and then spoke, using her voice. Meanwhile, Suiteheart was but a passenger in all of this.

Erlend's calm expression brightened as Maarit emerged. Her sweet girl, her lover, her pearl. The ancient huntress inhaled softly, breathing in the scent of her long-ago partner. It was just as she remembered: pine and honey and everything light. "How could I forget you, my pearl? I have missed you more than words," she spoke, her voice appearing even and yet drenched with relief. "No, beloved, do not be sorry. I chose this path. I -"

The protector silenced herself as she caught the change in Maarit. Those gray eyes she loved more than life came alive with a harsh, copper hue. Erlend's gaze hardened, and before the other spoke, she found herself recounting the life and times of Genevieve Harper Mikaelson. That had been an interesting case, Erlend remembered. The archaic soul recalled Aerona well enough, and she even felt the second youngest soul blooming like a deadly flower within her. That girl had nerve. And as young as she was, contained a power stronger than most others.

"Ah, witless Genevieve Harper," the white feline remarked, voice never leaving that level tone, "don't you understand? Killing me only ensures you never see Aerona. She and I are connected as we each hold a sliver of one soul, Genevieve Harper."

A strained look painted Erlend's facial features. She stepped back as she began to shake. She shook her head once as if to combat the ten souls clamoring for control.

"Stop! Go away - all of you!"

Suiteheart. The white feline was herself again, but not for long enough.

"Think about what you are asking, my dear."

"In-g-rid? Mea vol-upta-s uni-ca?"

The different voices flew from her lips, heartbeats apart. In bats of an eye, her posture shifted and contorted as each soul seized control. Her tone of voice and accents transformed from one second to another. "You have - auri-bus percipe - no! - Sybil. Silence. Suiteheart, you -? Non tacebor, Erlend! - You will have your time, Sybil. Concede now, or - ego ad-sum, Erlend, -! STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP!"

Suiteheart had screamed her souls into silence. Her breathing was ragged, and her legs trembled every few seconds. She was shaking her head softly and tears were again accumulating in her eyes. "I didn't ask for this... I didn't ask for any of this..." She was sobbing once more as her souls rushed her again, grappling for control over her weakened being. They were all pleading and begging and bargaining. Suite could sense Erlend attempting to calm everyone, but to no avail. Tensions were so incredibly high. She heard Margaery's warning, but it was far too late.

'Before the rest of you fuck-ups shatter this soul and vessel beyond repair, I'm taking my turn. No, Erlend, I don't care that I'm the youngest. Sybil doesn't deserve it. No one does but me... Oh, you think you should? Erlend, you're the whole reason we're in this situation, you bitch. You cursed us. Don't forget that, miss high-and-mighty. Erlend, I don't give a shit about what you think! It's my turn. You can fight me for control. Good luck though; I've been saving my strength. You haven't.'

"Aerona. You must not-"

From the calm came the rage. Suiteheart's - Erlend's - posture changed. The rigid, strong look about her melted into something sharper and more dangerous. A fog of fury seemed to roll out from around her, and a giggle left her lips. She stretched, letting her soul reach into every corner of this vessel. The assassin stood straight up then, a playful smile unfurling upon her lips as she gazed at the girl before her. When she spoke, however, there was no warmth to her fire. She was freezing on the inside; she was unfeeling. And yet, the thought of Genevieve piqued her interests. A shred of caring could not be found within her for her partner in crime, but there was something there, wasn't there?

"Genny. It's been a helluva long while."

[amor meus in aeternum - my eternal love
mea voluptas unica - my only delight
auribus percipe - listen closely
non tacebor -  i will not be silenced
ego adsum - i am here]

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Ah yes, all of this was so terribly fascinating to the chocolate hued huntress. Margaery’s struggle for power was not nearly as elaborate or pain inducing as Suiteheart’s and, admittedly, Genevieve delighted in watched her wife suffer. She knew good and well what the cost of her imbalance was and though Margaery was appalled by even the thought of it, felt herself absolutely anticipating the moment that her soul shattered into irreparable pieces. Certainly that was Suiteheart’s fate, correct? Ten centuries of different lives had just been balanced precariously upon her pale shoulders, each different being fighting tooth and claw for their chance at consciousness again. There was no other result to this discourse than such a tragic end, Genny was sure of it. All it was now was a tedious and time-consuming waiting game.

It was a good thing that Genevieve was immortal then- she could watch each facet of Suiteheart fight and bicker for control for the rest of her numbered days if she had to. She just hoped that the one and only individual that she wished to speak to surfaced. She didn’t care for Aerona, per say, but there something about her previous partner in crime that had successfully managed to slide under her skin and remain there. Indefinitely. She felt perpetually haunted by the bitch’s presence and fierce resentment had eventually become muted and reluctant endearment. No. That was wrong. She felt nothing positive towards Aerona; she simply tolerated her more than the rest of the different Suiteheart’s. She wouldn’t stand for accepting anything else.

A surge of ancient, archaic power suddenly consumed her, dragging her from her intrigue laced thoughts and back to the real world. Harshly. So Ingrid hadn’t resigned to silently watching this ordeal? She actually believed that she was right to attempt to surface and communicate with Sybil? How dum-

Or perhaps it was Genevieve that was the dumb one, her copper visionaries becoming a bright jade green as Ingrid made another rare appearance. [color=#b14767]”Sybil. Sybil,” She extended, concern lacing her tone. Something was wrong with her love but Ingrid could not figure out what. This new world terrified her. There was none of that olden feel to anything anymore, even the individual that sat before her devoid of that timelessness Ingrid had once adored. She didn’t want to be here then, not when everything around her was so vastly unfamiliar. Genevieve could have control of this vessel, Ingrid decided, she would much rather retreat to the recesses of Margaery’s mind and watch and adjust and then strike again. She would save Sybil.

Not today.

But one day.

Genevieve blinked a few times as her senses were restored to her, a venomous giggle trickling from smirking lips. It seemed as if she had returned just as the show began and oh, a show it was. There was no harmony between any facet of Suiteheart and Genevieve, in spite of herself, inclined forward, that dangerous gleam that danced within her eyes only brightening. Yes. Yes. Yes. She was so close to breaking, she could feel it, sense it through the bond that was about to shatter. As much as she’d like to see that tiresome little thing evaporate like Suiteheart was about to, she respected Margaery enough to shut it down herself, effectively preserving its shredded remains. Consider it the only kindness she would ever extend to Suiteheart. A funeral present.

The warmth that Margaery once radiated so strongly in the back of her mind exstinguished in that moment, rendering the charming girl wholly and completely free of emotion. Without the bond, Margaery and Genevieve were practically the same entity, each with a certain loss of feeling. The only difference between the pair was Genevieve’s hatred towards the world. That was going nowhere anytime soon, bond in place or not.

Laughing once more (as, what wasn’t there to laugh at? Suiteheart was crumbling and Margaery no longer provided any challenge or resistance), Genevieve watched Erlend and Sybil and Suite argue amongst themselves. How delicious... how delightful. She could feel the clock ticking, each second bringing her closer and closer to the moment that this little chapter was finished and shut. They didn’t need Nik, not this time around.

Suite would be her own undoing.

[color=#b14767]”You and I both know that Aerona won’t truly die. The cycle will just repeat itself and we’ll find you just as we have so many times before. You’re the oldest, Erlend, but I have a feeling that a warrior such as yourself was all brawn, no brain. What a shame. You are, after all, why we’re in this mess in the first place, are you not? No matter, I’ll be rid of your annoying presence soon enough.” The words were said casually, an afterthought to their incessant fighting. She really didn’t care if any facet of Suiteheart picked up on what she was saying or not, it just felt god to so utterly insult Suite without feeling a wave of repercussion from Margaery.

But right before anything could happen - could snap - Suiteheart’s entire demeanor changed and Genevieve knew that she wasn’t looking at Suite at all but rather, somebody else. Somebody better. [color=#b14767]”Hello, sugar. I’d ask if you missed me but we both know that you only care about yourself. How’ve you been, pumpkin? Being chained up to some goodie-two-shoes is no fun, wouldn’t you agree?”

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]When Suiteheart felt the bond turn off thanks to Genevieve, she waited for the pressure to relax. She waited for the weight of every single 100 years of heartbreak to end. She waited for any, any, any kind of relief up to and even including death.

But there was nothing.

There was no easing of the pain.

The release of the bond only heightened the hurt. All at once, every single soul residing within her small frame screamed. They screamed and fought with her, with each other. They all grabbed onto the bond, the one thing that connected them each to the past. The mental movement within her was excruciating. She was just short of convulsing as a thin trickle of blood began to pour from her nose.

"Genevieve, you idiot!" Suiteheart spat, but it was Erlend using her voice. The most ancient soul wanted to take control, but doing so would only result in making things worse. "If we get reborn again, it will be one too many individuals tied to one soul. Our soul will collapse underneath the weight, and then we cease to exist." Her voice - Suiteheart's - was trembling violently. Was it not obvious to Gen, she wondered. From the state they were in now, shattering was on the horizon. The ten split souls were walking a thin tightrope. One false move would throw them over the edge.

If Genevieve were to kill them in hopes of reuniting with Aerona, that would be disastrous. If another split was driven into their shared soul, the outcome would be irreversible. The soul was already cracked and crumbling. The sudden onslaught of memories via Gen was furthering the destruction of their soul. Another added to their ten... Erlend tried to picture it. She knew Suiteheart - or whomever the next version would be - would be born to only suffer. There would be no control. Each version of herself would fight for control. They would rip one another apart until the vessel ripped itself apart. The soul they shared would evaporate, ultimately killing them. There would be no more lives. There would be nothing. They would only be memories.

"We are already beginning to lose control. You are going to kill Aerona, Genevieve. You will - not your father, not me. You. I hope you can find it within yourself to deal with that."

Her tone was zero-below - as freezing as the lands Erlend originated from. The look on her face was of cold steel. She was angry. This had gotten out of control. Everything was coming apart at the seams. Erlend was usually able to keep things calm, but now? Now was entirely different. Try as she might, she could not wrap her mind around salvaging this. Worst of all, she knew Nik was coming. She could feel his cold presence as easily as she could feel Genevieve's in front of her. She shuddered.

And then, there was a fire so fierce, it burned. Aerona. She pushed her way towards the front of the pack with astonishing ease. She overtook Erlend without a fight (Erlend was too scared to further damage the soul to put up anything besides a verbal fight). But ever the cutthroat she was, Aerona shoved Erlend down deep. Erlend would remain in her place, she knew. Erlend was too scared of disrupting balance to override her protective characteristics. Aerona simply smirked, which caused Suiteheart's features to quirk upward in a dark smile.

"Oh, Gen-Gen, it's... so great to see you, love," she lied easily, flicking her tail. She stood then, rising to near Genevieve. Aerona circled her counterpart in slow movements as if she were sizing her up. A malicious smile burned brightly on her features. "Hmmm. You were prettier last time I saw you. Tragic." She turned, then, padding away from her to search the room. She had seen this place before, through Suiteheart's eyes as she lay dormant. It seemed different, somehow worse.

At Gen's question, she shook her head. Her? Chained up? She giggled. "Oh, honey, I'm much stronger than you remember! Sweetie, I make appearances in this vessel all the time. I just think you don't care enough to notice," she pouted, pursing her lips. She giggled again, turning to face her partner in crime. "I'm hurt, Gen-Gen. Honestly, I thought you of all people would know I was behind every flare of anger, every snide comment, every outburst. It was so much easier when she was younger - before Erlend decided to teach this bitch about balance. But I've always been here, lurking, waiting. It's a damn shame you weren't good enough to break out sooner. I could've been running this shitty place with your help." She shook her head before turning her nose up in disgust. "I guess you really haven't learned anything since your daddy killed me. Not that I'm surprised - you never were a quick learner, were you, love?"

Her confidence faltered for a second as a stronger surge of blood poured from her nose. Her head was swimming, and she placed a paw to her temple as if to steady herself. She gritted her teeth, but her smile never left her lips. Through a pained laugh, she purred, [color=#8B4C39][b]"God, Gen-Gen, you're ruining me. And you know how much I hate you bringing me down."