Akasha of Uruk

Akasha RP Blog of Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles. Book Version. Bog contains adult themes. Only rp with those over 18 years. I will rp with TV versions of characters as well.

[akashaofuruk]

❛ You keep saying this is training, but you keep looking at my mouth. ❜ (@dalvrickgeirheim)

@dalvrickgeirheim - hi sorry it took so long I rarely get asks...

Akasha's eyes narrowed the gold in them flaring like a lamp being fed oil. She stepped closer until the scent of her perfume ancient myrrh and something like sun-warmed fruit brushed against Dalvrick's skin. Her smile was slow, deliberate, and unhurried. "Observation refines technique," she murmured her voice was low and velvety her fingers trailing a deliberate path along his jaw before settling at the hollow of his throat. "But if my gaze betrays me, perhaps your instruction is more entertaining than you admit."

[leroilestat]

The Theater of Worship

Last Time on the VC's Lestat x Akasha @leroilestat @akashaofuruk

akashaofuruk

Akasha’s regal smile was slow it was like a sun uncoiling from behind winter clouds. She stood framed by the ruined cathedral’s shattered stained glass her black hair a halo in the light. “You speak of crowns and stages as if they are trinkets to be worn or broken,” she purred amused. “Worship is not a fickle currency to be spent and hoarded, Lestat. It is recognition of what stands above the petty coil of mortal hearts. They will bow because they must, because they see and cannot unsee.” Her fingertips brushed the rim of a fallen column as if testing its weight. “Boredom,” she said patiently with a look like hunger on her face. “I tire only of those who cannot see. If the world will not offer its eyes willingly then I will burn the darkness from them until the light is unavoidable.” She stepped closer it was close enough that the faint scent of old incense clung to her. “Make them watch, Lestat? No you make them worship. There is a difference, and you know it.”

Lestat watches her come closer without moving away his smirk deliberate. He lifts his glass but doesn’t drink he just turns it once more between his fingers. “You’re right,” he says.... he's less amused. “There is a difference.” His gaze holds hers steadily. “Worship kneels and watching resists. I’ve always preferred a little resistance. It makes the moment they give in far more.... interesting.”

He sets the glass aside giving her his full attention. “But don’t mistake me, ma reine. I don’t need them to see what you are. I don’t need them enlightened or burned clean by your light.” He gives a faint tilt of his head challenging her. “I only need them alive enough to feel it the fear, awe, desire.... it’s all the same currency in the end. You call it worship. I call it living with style.” He steps closer into her space without hesitation. “If you force their eyes open, you may find they stop seeing anything at all and where’s the pleasure in ruling over the blind?”

[akashaofuruk]

Akasha’s smile narrowed it was amused and dangerously pleased. She did not step back from his encroachment instead she let him invade her space as she savoured the warmth of his audacity as one savours a rare spice. “Style,” she said in a velvety raspy voice. “How petty that sounds when you say it, Lestat, yet I know you. You always adorn ruin the way others adorn silk. You mistake your appetite for artistry saying it has flair.”

Her fingers curled. “Let them see. Let them squirm in the light until the edges of their lives sharpen into devotion. Fear without beauty is cruelty and beauty without consequence is trivial. Give them terror that's wrapped in splendour, and they will trade their souls for a single glance.” Her eyes glowed like embers. “You revel in the coquettish delay of surrender... so do I but remember this, Lestat, when they fall, they will fall for me.”

[leroilestat]

🍾 + Do you fear a reign without worship?

Send 🍾 + a question for my muse to answer your question while drunk. from: @akashaofuruk answered by: @leroilestat Lestat x Akasha

Lestat lets out a low laugh as he slowly turns the glass between his fingers. He doesn’t look at Akasha right away. “Fear it?” he repeats it's like the word itself is amusing.... or maybe offensive. “Non, I’ve lived without worship before. I was nothing once..... less than nothing. I was a fledgling no one respected that no one listened to. You think a crown makes the king? It doesn’t. It only makes the fall louder.”

He finally glances at her his eyes are bright in a way that suggests the alcohol has loosened something within him. “Worship is fickle. It comes, it goes, and it turns on you the moment you disappoint it. I don’t need it to exist. I don’t need it to be.... this.” He gestures vaguely to himself as if the word for what he is escapes him. “But I won’t pretend I don’t enjoy it. I always have. The stage, the eyes, and the hunger for me.... it’s a game I’m very good at.”

He leans back smirking faintly as though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “A reign without worship isn’t frightening. It’s just.... dull. I have never tolerated boredom well. If the world refuses to worship, then I’ll make them watch anyway.... that’s enough.”

[akashaofuruk]

Akasha’s regal smile was slow it was like a sun uncoiling from behind winter clouds. She stood framed by the ruined cathedral’s shattered stained glass her black hair a halo in the light. “You speak of crowns and stages as if they are trinkets to be worn or broken,” she purred amused. “Worship is not a fickle currency to be spent and hoarded, Lestat. It is recognition of what stands above the petty coil of mortal hearts. They will bow because they must, because they see and cannot unsee.”

Her fingertips brushed the rim of a fallen column as if testing its weight. “Boredom,” she said patiently with a look like hunger on her face. “I tire only of those who cannot see. If the world will not offer its eyes willingly then I will burn the darkness from them until the light is unavoidable.” She stepped closer it was close enough that the faint scent of old incense clung to her. “Make them watch, Lestat? No you make them worship. There is a difference, and you know it.”

[justrpmemesandmusings]

How would your muse describe my muse's eyes?

[bratxprincexlestat]

@akashaofuruk ;; continued

His pride, fear, longing and defiance all collide at this moment moment, it was what made her so hypnotic and dangerous. Lestat felt the words strike him with the force of a blow he hadn’t braced for. Not because Akasha was wrong...she rarely was.... but because she spoke aloud the truth he spent centuries trying to bury beneath bravado and charm.He lifted his chin, refusing to step back even as she closed the distance between them. Her presence pressed against him like heat, like gravity, like something ancient and merciless that had decided he was worth its attention.

Lestat’s smile unfurled slowly, like a blade sliding free of its sheath. Akasha’s words should have humbled him any sane creature would have trembled beneath that gaze but instead they lit something bright and reckless behind his eyes.He tilted his head, letting a lock of golden hair fall deliberately across his cheek as he regarded her with a languid, feline amusement. "Is that what you think I’m doing?" he purred, voice warm as honey and twice as dangerous. "Fighting you? One gaze from you that lasts too long and I lose the fight...no I am no fool..I know my weaknesses"He stepped closer, closing the last breath of space between them until he could feel the ancient heat radiating from her skin. His smile deepened, intimate and insolent all at once."Perhaps,I simply enjoy giving you something worth watching." Akasha’s expression didn’t change, but Lestat felt a thrill that ran through him like a spark catching dry tinder just to have her attention. "You say you see me" he said softly, lifting his chin just enough to meet her eyes without bowing. "Then you must know what might happen when you look at me too closely."His voice dropped to a velvet whisper."I will start to long for your gaze, to be seen, to be known, and you...will find me too amusing to stop looking." He was such a cocky brat even towards the Mother of the blood..as if she was merely yet another gorgeous woman he could flirt with right into her good graces.

A breath not fear, not submission, but pure, deliberate provocation — escaped him as he let his gaze travel over her face with a slow, appreciative sweep and dared to reach to touch the cheek of a vampire that could snap him like a twig with a mere thought, dared to reach to caress her cheek with his knuckles the way poets caress the object of their affection. He was terrified of her...he was allured by her.. she was so all encompassing and mesmerising. "If you think I’m strongest when you see me…"His smile turned wicked."…then by all means, Ma Belle Terreur, keep looking."He didn’t step back,he didn’t bow.He simply stood there, radiant and defiant, offering himself like a challenge wrapped in silk."After all" he added, voice low and teasing, "I’ve always had a weakness for powerful women who can’t seem to take their eyes off me."

[akashaofuruk]

Akasha did not flinch when his knuckles brushed her cheek. She allowed it. That alone was answer enough. Her gaze followed the movement of his hand, then returned to his eyes. There was no warmth in her expression only appraisement. He was not wrong to provoke her. He was wrong to believe it placed them on equal ground.

Akasha lifted her own hand and closed her fingers around his wrist. It was not hard but exactly the right amount. She lowered it from her face as if setting aside an object she had finished examining. “You mistake my attention for hunger,” she said. Her voice remained even because she does not raise her voice. “I do not look because I am tempted. I look because you are loud, bright, and dangerous to yourself.”

She stepped closer it was so close that his bravado had nowhere to perform. Her ancient and unyielding presence pressed against him. He would feel the power beneath her stillness and the restraint that was far more threatening. “You offer yourself like a challenge,” Akasha continued. “But you are not challenging me. You are asking to be spared.”

Her fingers remained around his wrist. She did not tighten them, but he knew that she could end him before the thought was completed. Her eyes did not leave his face. “I keep looking,” she said, “because you survive on being witnessed. Take that away and you wither. Give it freely and you mistake it for favor.”

She released him and stepped back a pace. She was reclaiming the distance on her terms. “You may call me your terror,” Akasha said calmly. “But do not pretend you command my gaze. I grant it and I will withdraw it the moment you forget what stands before you.” Her eyes lingered on him one last time. Her gaze was cool, unwavering, and absolute. It was certain. “Stand,” she said simply. “If you wish to be seen.”

[akashaofuruk]

“Sleep doesn’t come easy when every dream ends with your name.” (is he being poetic is he hallucinating her like the rest of them WHO knows not I)

Akasha watched him with the stillness of stone that remembered being a queen. In the fevered glow of his mind she was neither kind nor cruel... only inevitable. His confession drifted through her like incense, and she smiled. It was a small ancient curve of the mouth that showed when she was not amused but would tolerate insubordination for a favored subject.

She did not reach for him. Queens did not chase their dreams. Instead she let her presence press closer it was as cool as moon-water and as heavy as history. Sleep is a throne, her silence seemed to say, and you have always knelt upon it for me. She brushed the thought across his brow without touch it was a benediction and a wound entwined. Names were spells... he had spoken hers again, and so she lingered here unyielding and luminous... until even wakefulness felt like surrender. Her spirit was alive... still. She was not dead. Goddesses do not die, they evolve.

@bratxprincexlestat

[akashaofuruk]

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t fight you when you look at me like that.”

Akasha did not look away. She stood in front of him. She was as still as carved stone. Her dark eyes were steady on his face. There was a hardness in them. He had her attention as she weighed his worth to her. Akasha smiled it was slight and controlled. “You will fight,” she said. “You always do. Even when you kneel, even when you beg... you fight me.” She stepped closer. It was close enough that he could not pretend distance mattered. “I do not look at you to weaken you, Lestat,” Akasha continued. “I look at you because you are strongest when you are seen. I see you. I know your worth even if you do not.”

// @bratxprincexlestat sorry this took so long. I thought this blog was not going to get requests and stopped checking it. Thanks!

[roleplayasksandmemes]

Smash or Pass.

Send a name - or multiple names - and 'Smash or Pass' to get my muse's honest answer.

No qualifiers or justifications required.

[chillinrpmemes]

Send 👀 + a name and my muse will admit if they find them attractive or not and why

[rpmememaker]

this is a rebloggable for strictly para or multi-para rpers

Everyone knows that they are out there, but this is for people who would be open to *new* partners and willing to write outside of their fandoms, as well as open to a variety of FCs and enjoy the concept of AUs. 

Don’t reblog it just because, but only if you are serious about finding new people to write with.

[rpmememaker]

You have permission to flirt with me anonymously. Starting now.

[sweet-shut-eye]

Faces in the Crowd

[spunsugarmusings]

Send my muse anons as either the devil or angel on their shoulder

Try to convince them to do something, or to not do something. Or, whatever moral dilemma you can think of to incite!

[akashaofuruk]

rpmemes

[dailyclassicart]

Franz Ludwig Catel - "Monks in a monastery courtyard" (1856)

[akashaofuruk]

"We live everywhere and anywhere we choose. The world is our garden." -Akasha QOTD

[battements-d-elle]

[inlovewithquotes]

The truth is most women are weak, be they mortal or immortal. But when they are strong, they are absolutely unpredictable.

-Marius De Romanus