Sᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ Mᴏsᴛ Lᴏᴡ -- ;

INDEFINITE HIATUS.

[calabrun]

indefinite hiatus.

Hey guys, I know I said I’d be making a comeback, but after struggling for days to find muse or get shit ready for a revamp, I’ve discovered that Vlad’s muse really isn’t there. This isn’t anyone’s fault, but I think I just need to face facts. I’ve been RPing Vlad for 8-9 years now, and while there’s still a story to tell, I’m not quite sure if it’s in the RPC. I’ve had loads of fun, made tons of friends, but I think this is the final curtain call for the bat. Maybe I’ll come back, but right now isn’t the time.

Anyway, take care of yourselves, and if you need me, I’m pretty active over on my personal @chalabrun. 

[calabrun]

lame: au where one person has been an immortal vampire pretending to be human and their human friend/lover finds out! cue drama!!

acclaimed: two people born in a similar time period become close friends/lovers who forge a deep bond. eventually, they drift apart and become immortal, go through hell, and when they realize the other person is still alive, angst ensues

[calabrun]

@huntrcsss​ -- ;

“I’d hunt a mark elsewhere. This may be beyond you.”

[calabrun]

@starscorned​ -- ;

“How death has claimed these lands with winter’s chill kiss...”

Ah. he hadn’t spoken in such a way since his days as Count, it seemed. And here, this was the country he’d wanted to turn from God and make into a hell on earth, to spurn his heavenly father. The blood here seemed spoiled, riddled with disease, but the stench of vampires drew his hunger like a cobra to a den of garter snakes. 

“...And you are? Territorial, maybe?”

[calabrun]

@dogxfiend​ -- ;

“You’ve an air of hell about you. Come to claim some unfortunate soul?”

[calabrun]

@the27percent​ -- ;

“Changeless as you may be... you look well, Ati.”

[calabrun]

@knightshonour -- ;

The Grand Archives had become something of a proverbial tomb, it seemed. Where the bodies of his fellow scholars wandered with wax dripping from their heads like blood. It was a meddlesome thing, to feel the hotness leach so closely to his skin, but the Dracul was nothing if not adaptable. With a tarp worn like a crude hood, still saturated and starched to the shape of his head. Of course, he knew it was from necessity, no matter what one might think.

“Hm... try dipping your helm in the wax pools instead. It’s less... uncomfortable.”

[calabrun]

@simetrasmind​ -- ;

It felt as though it had been a time since he’d last seen the man, some odd lifetime ago, even. Yet, to be abreast of such familiarity was not unlike the sun finding its proper place on the horizon, held by the sea. The vampire bowed foppishly to Rasputin, smile genuine.

“It hasn’t been too long that you’ve forgotten me, has it?”

[calabrun]

@lightlorn​ -- ;

“...Your Majesty? What brings you to the Archives so late?”

[calabrun]

@malitiosa​ -- ;

“A night such as this... almost makes you want to hunt, no?”

[klassizismus]

Details: Still Life with Books and a Violin. By Jan Davidsz de Heem, 1628

[terpsikeraunos]

ancient greek word of the night: νυκτόμαντις (nyktomantis), one who prophesies by night

[calabrun]

@frostmaiden​ -- ;

With the coming of winter, autumn in its last lives before they might enjoy the season she embodied so beautifully. The Dracul embraced his wife tenderly, planting a kiss on her brow. “It’s been too long, dragostea mea.”

[calabrun]

@escapedartgeek​ -- ;

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? And how have you been?”

[calabrun]

@strangcrdoctor​ -- ;

“Gods, any colder out there and I feel like I’d freeze to death,” Vlad groused the moment he’d been ushered through the Sanctum doors, the blistery chill of Greenwich Village narrowly following him in. It made him long for the Other Realm his own Scholomance was located, perpetually warm no matter the season. With a wry look did he come behind Stephen, perching his chin on the man’s shoulder.

“Was I interrupting anything, dragul?”

[calabrun]

@nazairi​ -- ;

“It feels like it’s been too long since I’ve been here. How have you and your girls been, Dettlaff?”

[calabrun]

@swede​ -- ;

Venice--the Most Serene, the pearl of the Veneto was beautiful even this time of year. Though it was deep in winter, the metropolitan jewel played host to one of the most decadent, elegant celebrations in all of Europe: Carnivale. For the next seventeen days and sixteen nights, commoners and noblemen alike would partake in the revelry that would seem without end. A mingling of lights amid the darkness that shone on the lagoon so very beautifully. It was in Dorsodoro that its indulgent heart beat with gold blood, many people mingling within the expansive piazza despite the frigid night air, looking for soirees and other points of interest, like masques and theater productions. For over half a month, anyone who was anyone was in Venice. 

It was the night’s calling that a feast in the palazzo of one of the nobles invited anyone dressed richly enough, filing through wide doorways into the foyer soaked with gold candlelight. A small orchestra had been commissioned to play on a raised dais on the furthest end of the large ballroom, like it was sliced from Versailles itself. Though he’d come alone that time, a woman caught his eye, someone he hadn’t seen from among Venice’s usual pretentious rabble.

“Excuse me, madonna, but might I have this dance when it so begins?”