🦇AskVincent🦇

Vincent is my haunted hotel oc. He’s a vampire from 1803. He looks around the same age that Abaddon looks so keep that in mind.

[askvincent1234567890]

Hello humans my name is Vincent Stoker. Esther thought it would be a good idea for me to make one of these things so here it is.  Feel free to ask me any questions.

[dannymans66]

In another world

[dannymans66]

Character challenge

[stsg8990]

It's Germa 66 day!

(6/6)

[heisoark]

My modern au Headcanon is that the vinsmoke siblings had an awkward nerdy teenage year with glasses and braces Yes I know i know, the glasses are my excuse to make a homestuck references

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve was watching Abaddon and Vincent play with each other through the window when she noticed some oddly dressed people getting close to the two 

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve folded her hands together, watching quietly. There was something almost peaceful about it - the sound of laughter, the illusion of normalcy. It tugged at something deep in her chest. Something old. Something aching.

Then-

Movement.

Her eyes shifted sharply.

Across the courtyard, near the edge of the iron gate, a small group approached. They were watching. She wasn't a stranger to visitors at the hotel, but she was always curious about any new faces.

[askvincent1234567890]

These people looked like they belonged to a cult and were up to no good. She noticed one of them was carrying a wooden stake. They were still far enough for Abaddon and Vincent not to notice them.

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve stilled.

The air around her sharpened, that quiet, mournful presence tightening into something far more alert.

“A stake…?” she murmured, her Irish lilt dropping low, uneasy. “Ah, now that’s not the sort o’ thing ye bring for friendly company…”

Her gaze flicked back to the boys.

[askvincent1234567890]

Abaddon sensed something was wrong and pulled Vincent deeper into the forest while Maeve went to go tell someone who was still alive what was going on  

[theweepingvoice]

The Hotel swallowed her in a breath.

Walls, doors, corridors—none of them slowed her. She slipped through them like wind through cracked stone, her urgency bleeding into the building itself. Lights flickered as she passed. A door down the hall creaked open on its own.

“Katherine…” Maeve called, her voice threading through the halls before her form fully followed. “Katherine, love-where are ye?”

She found her near the stairwell, midway through gathering linens, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound in the quiet corridor.

Maeve appeared just beside her- too quickly, too suddenly.

“Katherine.”

@askvincent1234567890

[askvincent1234567890]

Maeve quickly explain to Katherine what’s going on.

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve was watching Abaddon and Vincent play with each other through the window when she noticed some oddly dressed people getting close to the two 

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve folded her hands together, watching quietly. There was something almost peaceful about it - the sound of laughter, the illusion of normalcy. It tugged at something deep in her chest. Something old. Something aching.

Then-

Movement.

Her eyes shifted sharply.

Across the courtyard, near the edge of the iron gate, a small group approached. They were watching. She wasn't a stranger to visitors at the hotel, but she was always curious about any new faces.

[askvincent1234567890]

These people looked like they belonged to a cult and were up to no good. She noticed one of them was carrying a wooden stake. They were still far enough for Abaddon and Vincent not to notice them.

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve stilled.

The air around her sharpened, that quiet, mournful presence tightening into something far more alert.

“A stake…?” she murmured, her Irish lilt dropping low, uneasy. “Ah, now that’s not the sort o’ thing ye bring for friendly company…”

Her gaze flicked back to the boys.

[askvincent1234567890]

Abaddon sensed something was wrong and pulled Vincent deeper into the forest while Maeve went to go tell someone who was still alive what was going on  

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve was watching Abaddon and Vincent play with each other through the window when she noticed some oddly dressed people getting close to the two 

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve folded her hands together, watching quietly. There was something almost peaceful about it - the sound of laughter, the illusion of normalcy. It tugged at something deep in her chest. Something old. Something aching.

Then-

Movement.

Her eyes shifted sharply.

Across the courtyard, near the edge of the iron gate, a small group approached. They were watching. She wasn't a stranger to visitors at the hotel, but she was always curious about any new faces.

[askvincent1234567890]

These people looked like they belonged to a cult and were up to no good. She noticed one of them was carrying a wooden stake. They were still far enough for Abaddon and Vincent not to notice them.

[theweepingvoice]

I was wondering if I could hear about the stories, you read about vampires

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve’s face brightened, touched by that wistful gleam that always came when someone asked about before. Her form shimmered faintly as she leaned against the wall... or rather, hovered just close enough to suggest leaning.

There were many tales. Some tragic, others horrific.

She drifted a little closer to him, her tone half-musing, half-confessional. “One I loved most was about a count in Vienna... he fell in love with a woman who resembled his long-dead wife. He’d watch her from afar, terrified that his hunger would ruin her… and of course, it did.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “They always ended that way- beauty, ruin, and a cross at dawn.”

[askvincent1234567890]

Vincent listen to every word. He loved stories like this but wasn’t allowed to indulge in it when he was human

[theweepingvoice]

She gave a small shrug, the gesture graceful despite her translucence. “Then there were the old folklore accounts- stories of peasants digging up graves to find blood at a corpse’s lips, of mothers who swore the dead came back for their children. Those tales felt real, in the way that fear always does.”

Her gaze flicked toward Vincent, curious now. “It’s strange, though to sit here and tell them to a vampire, instead of just reading them by firelight.”

[askvincent1234567890]

My parents never let me read stories like that when I was human but I would always be able to hear them from the town folk. They were always happy to share them with me

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve smiled softly at that, her gaze taking on a faraway warmth. “Of course they were,” she said. “Folk tales were meant to be told aloud, after all...not hoarded between pages. Stories breathe better in the open air, passed from one voice to another.”

She drifted closer, her presence faintly stirring the air, like a cool draft brushing past him. “I imagine you sitting by a hearth somewhere… wide-eyed, listening to old fishermen or washerwomen whisper about the creatures in the woods.” Her tone gentled further. “You must’ve been such a curious child.”

A faint pause. “It’s rather funny, isn’t it? The way stories always come back around. You once listened to people tell vampire tales, and now—” she gave him a knowing smile, “—the vampire’s the one listening.”

Maeve tilted her head, her voice growing thoughtful. “Do you remember any of the ones they told you? The ones that stuck?”

[askvincent1234567890]

There was a interesting one I have been told about that from London. The creature was called spring heel Jack…

Vincent started to ramble on about the different urban legends, he was told about

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve listened intently. Being a ghost did get boring so anything new was welcomed in the banshee's eyes. She hadn't heard on this tale, so she gave Vincent the stage- as Nathan would call it. She was still getting used to some modern terms.

"I see, that's very interesting." Maeve had said when the tale was finished.

[askvincent1234567890]

Vincent beamed at Maeve saying what he had said was interesting

[theweepingvoice]

maeve smiled back. It wasn't often when she felt at ease or at the very least drowning in her sorrows. Most of her time was spent doing so or just avoiding people for most of the time. Not out of dislike, rather just the fact that she didn't want them to be around one of her er.. flare-ups.

Those were dreadful dealing with.

[askvincent1234567890]

I wish I could hug you…

[theweepingvoice]

I was wondering if I could hear about the stories, you read about vampires

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve’s face brightened, touched by that wistful gleam that always came when someone asked about before. Her form shimmered faintly as she leaned against the wall... or rather, hovered just close enough to suggest leaning.

There were many tales. Some tragic, others horrific.

She drifted a little closer to him, her tone half-musing, half-confessional. “One I loved most was about a count in Vienna... he fell in love with a woman who resembled his long-dead wife. He’d watch her from afar, terrified that his hunger would ruin her… and of course, it did.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “They always ended that way- beauty, ruin, and a cross at dawn.”

[askvincent1234567890]

Vincent listen to every word. He loved stories like this but wasn’t allowed to indulge in it when he was human

[theweepingvoice]

She gave a small shrug, the gesture graceful despite her translucence. “Then there were the old folklore accounts- stories of peasants digging up graves to find blood at a corpse’s lips, of mothers who swore the dead came back for their children. Those tales felt real, in the way that fear always does.”

Her gaze flicked toward Vincent, curious now. “It’s strange, though to sit here and tell them to a vampire, instead of just reading them by firelight.”

[askvincent1234567890]

My parents never let me read stories like that when I was human but I would always be able to hear them from the town folk. They were always happy to share them with me

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve smiled softly at that, her gaze taking on a faraway warmth. “Of course they were,” she said. “Folk tales were meant to be told aloud, after all...not hoarded between pages. Stories breathe better in the open air, passed from one voice to another.”

She drifted closer, her presence faintly stirring the air, like a cool draft brushing past him. “I imagine you sitting by a hearth somewhere… wide-eyed, listening to old fishermen or washerwomen whisper about the creatures in the woods.” Her tone gentled further. “You must’ve been such a curious child.”

A faint pause. “It’s rather funny, isn’t it? The way stories always come back around. You once listened to people tell vampire tales, and now—” she gave him a knowing smile, “—the vampire’s the one listening.”

Maeve tilted her head, her voice growing thoughtful. “Do you remember any of the ones they told you? The ones that stuck?”

[askvincent1234567890]

There was a interesting one I have been told about that from London. The creature was called spring heel Jack…

Vincent started to ramble on about the different urban legends, he was told about

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve listened intently. Being a ghost did get boring so anything new was welcomed in the banshee's eyes. She hadn't heard on this tale, so she gave Vincent the stage- as Nathan would call it. She was still getting used to some modern terms.

"I see, that's very interesting." Maeve had said when the tale was finished.

[askvincent1234567890]

Vincent beamed at Maeve saying what he had said was interesting

[theweepingvoice]

I was wondering if I could hear about the stories, you read about vampires

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve’s face brightened, touched by that wistful gleam that always came when someone asked about before. Her form shimmered faintly as she leaned against the wall... or rather, hovered just close enough to suggest leaning.

There were many tales. Some tragic, others horrific.

She drifted a little closer to him, her tone half-musing, half-confessional. “One I loved most was about a count in Vienna... he fell in love with a woman who resembled his long-dead wife. He’d watch her from afar, terrified that his hunger would ruin her… and of course, it did.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “They always ended that way- beauty, ruin, and a cross at dawn.”

[askvincent1234567890]

Vincent listen to every word. He loved stories like this but wasn’t allowed to indulge in it when he was human

[theweepingvoice]

She gave a small shrug, the gesture graceful despite her translucence. “Then there were the old folklore accounts- stories of peasants digging up graves to find blood at a corpse’s lips, of mothers who swore the dead came back for their children. Those tales felt real, in the way that fear always does.”

Her gaze flicked toward Vincent, curious now. “It’s strange, though to sit here and tell them to a vampire, instead of just reading them by firelight.”

[askvincent1234567890]

My parents never let me read stories like that when I was human but I would always be able to hear them from the town folk. They were always happy to share them with me

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve smiled softly at that, her gaze taking on a faraway warmth. “Of course they were,” she said. “Folk tales were meant to be told aloud, after all...not hoarded between pages. Stories breathe better in the open air, passed from one voice to another.”

She drifted closer, her presence faintly stirring the air, like a cool draft brushing past him. “I imagine you sitting by a hearth somewhere… wide-eyed, listening to old fishermen or washerwomen whisper about the creatures in the woods.” Her tone gentled further. “You must’ve been such a curious child.”

A faint pause. “It’s rather funny, isn’t it? The way stories always come back around. You once listened to people tell vampire tales, and now—” she gave him a knowing smile, “—the vampire’s the one listening.”

Maeve tilted her head, her voice growing thoughtful. “Do you remember any of the ones they told you? The ones that stuck?”

[askvincent1234567890]

There was a interesting one I have been told about that from London. The creature was called spring heel Jack…

Vincent started to ramble on about the different urban legends, he was told about

[theweepingvoice]

I was wondering if I could hear about the stories, you read about vampires

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve’s face brightened, touched by that wistful gleam that always came when someone asked about before. Her form shimmered faintly as she leaned against the wall... or rather, hovered just close enough to suggest leaning.

There were many tales. Some tragic, others horrific.

She drifted a little closer to him, her tone half-musing, half-confessional. “One I loved most was about a count in Vienna... he fell in love with a woman who resembled his long-dead wife. He’d watch her from afar, terrified that his hunger would ruin her… and of course, it did.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “They always ended that way- beauty, ruin, and a cross at dawn.”

[askvincent1234567890]

Vincent listen to every word. He loved stories like this but wasn’t allowed to indulge in it when he was human

[theweepingvoice]

She gave a small shrug, the gesture graceful despite her translucence. “Then there were the old folklore accounts- stories of peasants digging up graves to find blood at a corpse’s lips, of mothers who swore the dead came back for their children. Those tales felt real, in the way that fear always does.”

Her gaze flicked toward Vincent, curious now. “It’s strange, though to sit here and tell them to a vampire, instead of just reading them by firelight.”

[askvincent1234567890]

My parents never let me read stories like that when I was human but I would always be able to hear them from the town folk. They were always happy to share them with me

[theweepingvoice]

I was wondering if I could hear about the stories, you read about vampires

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve’s face brightened, touched by that wistful gleam that always came when someone asked about before. Her form shimmered faintly as she leaned against the wall... or rather, hovered just close enough to suggest leaning.

There were many tales. Some tragic, others horrific.

She drifted a little closer to him, her tone half-musing, half-confessional. “One I loved most was about a count in Vienna... he fell in love with a woman who resembled his long-dead wife. He’d watch her from afar, terrified that his hunger would ruin her… and of course, it did.” A wry smile tugged at her lips. “They always ended that way- beauty, ruin, and a cross at dawn.”

[askvincent1234567890]

Vincent listen to every word. He loved stories like this but wasn’t allowed to indulge in it when he was human

[theweepingvoice]

I know you can’t touch anything but I was wondering if I could have a hug…

Vincent was unusually quiet when asking this

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve blinked, caught off guard by the request. For a moment, she didn’t answer- her form flickering faintly, like candlelight disturbed by a draft.

“A… hug?” she echoed softly, almost to herself. The word felt foreign, tender in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for decades.

She drifted closer to Vincent, her expression unreadable but her tone gentle. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked me for something like that. Sure."

[askvincent1234567890]

Thank you…

At that moment Vincent felt like a kid again

[theweepingvoice]

"you're welcome, little one" she hummed softly. A understanding smile rested on her face. While she didn't know how it felt to be a vampire or anything of that nature...she did understand missing small things such as hugs and comfort.

[askvincent1234567890]

After a bit Vincent went to go find Abaddon

[theweepingvoice]

I know you can’t touch anything but I was wondering if I could have a hug…

Vincent was unusually quiet when asking this

@askvincent1234567890

Maeve blinked, caught off guard by the request. For a moment, she didn’t answer- her form flickering faintly, like candlelight disturbed by a draft.

“A… hug?” she echoed softly, almost to herself. The word felt foreign, tender in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for decades.

She drifted closer to Vincent, her expression unreadable but her tone gentle. “It’s been a long time since anyone’s asked me for something like that. Sure."

[askvincent1234567890]

Thank you…

At that moment Vincent felt like a kid again

[askvincent1234567890]

Esther has given me what she calls sunglasses and they make being out in the day a little more bearable.

[askvincent1234567890]

"a vampire...? Haven't seen one in ages! Well mostly did read about vampires back when I had access to books..."

@theweepingvoice

What kind of books did you have access to that has vampires in it?

[theweepingvoice]

Maeve let out a soft hum of laughter, the kind that seemed to reverberate in the air around her rather than from her throat.

"Well they were more so travel journals, bits of folklore from the Carpathians and beyond. All written by men who’d convinced themselves they’d seen something divine or monstrous in the night.”

[askvincent1234567890]

Interesting. Esther has been providing me with some modern day vampire tales but they are not accurate in the slightest

[theweepingvoice]

"hmm, I believe I heard a bit about that. Not quite sure how they've managed to sparkle instead of bursting into flames from the sun." Maeve pondered. She did recall Esther talking a bit on vampires the night beforehand. "But I suppose they managed. Say.... what era are you from?"

She looked at Vincent as if trying to place him.

[askvincent1234567890]

I was born in 1803. It was my 9th birthday when I was turned

[theweepingvoice]

“Nine…” she echoed softly, almost to herself. “Goodness, Vincent…”

For a moment, she said nothing else. The air between them seemed to grow still, the faint hum of the hotel’s unseen machinery fading into the distance. When she finally spoke again, her voice was quiet ... careful, like she was stepping around something fragile. “Most children spend their ninth year worrying about scraped knees or birthday cakes, not… eternity.”

[askvincent1234567890]

Um… well I am going back to my room.

Vincent wonder back to his room to think about this interaction. He never had someone worry about him as his parents only cared about their social standing.

[theweepingvoice]

"alright, do take care." Maeve bid the vampire a farewell before fading into the air.

[askvincent1234567890]

You as well

Vincent decided to sleep off the weird feeling