rage—rage against the dying of the light @chrislechevalier - Tumblr Blog

I believe everybody has a soulmate but not everybody meets their soulmate. Yours is still out there. mine died in Paris in 1929.

#about

sanguisugefm:

“I just want to clarify that I did not seek you out. I….” Jon knew when to bit his tongue and force a smile past the anger seeping into the air between them. He despised anyone with fangs and fur, he despised himself for being one of the beasts. Jon hated his life of isolation and depression.

“You know the answer to that. I don’t go chasing after the wolves. I don’t socialize. Part of me wants to and here I am just twiddling my thumbs in the midst of a growing moon. How do I even begin to associate with them. They don’t want me and I sure as…..” Jon spoke as if he were not speaking to an elder Lycan, one who had went out of his way to help him time and time again.

“You were gone for a while and I actually tolerate you. I don’t know anyone else that well yet. Hell, I don’t even know the bastard that bit me. I wish I did. I’d……” He wanted to say he would kill them, but that was a statement that lacked any real threat. He couldn’t kill them if he tried. It was growing harder to hate them at all at this point. Hadn’t there been advantages to this life, and he knew firsthand what the pull of the moon was like. They probably didn’t even mean to bite him.

“We’re not meant to be isolated.” In that moment, Christopher recognized the hypocrisy in his statement, but he continued. “I don’t know if I mean humans or us because we were once humans too regardless of how we became Lycan.” Christopher kicked at the ground putting more space between them. “Look, I’m not a fucking headshrinker; I can’t help you get your shit together, but I’ve been a lycan long enough to have a handle on this.” He motioned vaguely toward the sky where the moon shone.

“High praise.” His tone was flat expression impassive. “He can’t help you. And if you’re planning some kind of revenge to make you feel better—“ He shook his head. “I have a lot of experience in that department too and an eye for an eye is not as simple as it sounds. Revenge doesn’t give you back what you lost and if you don’t get over it, you’ll just keep losing more.” Somehow those words felt like the kind way of saying, either way you’re fucked, buddy. “Find me the day before the full moon. Bring scotch. We won’t talk. I want to be your friend as much as you want to be mine.”

#interaction: Jon

sanguisugefm:

“One giant pissing contest, would you agree?” Lilit allowed the humor to line the words as she spoke them into existence. A gentle chuckled to follow such a heavy conversation of pride and prejudices. “I like to piss in private, maybe that is why we get along so well. I care little for who is superior to whom when it comes to outside of the gene pool. I am inclined to be the best vampire I can be without trying to also be the best Lycan. How do they say, its like comparing apples to oranges.”

“I do not despise you as you might think. I know it is hard for your kind to see a vampire and not retaliate due to the deep rooted hatred passed through blood. I do not blame the young lycans who have no idea what they are even fighting for. I have been around long enough to see how useless it is.”

She had hoped he would have a better explanation, a better idea for her to convey to Alchara. This was not what she wanted to hear. “Do you judge me as a treacherous snake to my kind, or a valuable ally who sits at the enemies side to whisper in his ear? I can assure you my venom is not directed toward you.”

Christopher snorted and made his way to yet another photograph. “That statement is only funny considering my nature,” he said, unable to escape the mental image of lycans pissing to claim territory much to the horrification of their supposed more proper counterparts. “Our actions speak louder than our genetic make up.” Christopher spoke the words, and yet a part of him knew that they did not live in a meritocracy. The cards you are dealt and a smattering of luck dictate superiority far more than personal value. “I disagree. We are not apples and oranges. What makes the best lycan, vampire, and human is the same and yet can only be defined by the individual based on what they value. Or perhaps, no matter how blasphemous this is to some, we are saying the same thing after all.”

“I think it’s rather egotistical of me to assume every vampires despises me specifically.” He followed that statement with a particularly canine smirk. He could think of a few whose vendetta was very specific to him. “We’re pawns in a family feud that has lasted far too long. Two households, both alike in dignity—“ he muttered with a flourish of his hand. “Our ending is predestined.”

“You are not an ally.” It was not a position he would hold her too, but an ally required sacrifices Christopher wouldn’t expect from a stranger and lowering his defenses to believe would make him a poor leader indeed. “As to your position amongst the other faction, that is no business of mine. If you stray from your own, that may directly benefit me.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You are not the first to be involved with a Lycan, but I’d recommend discretion for both your sakes. If your lycan friend is part of a pack I suggest they remain with them for the full moon. If not—“ he pressed his lips together in thought. “I believe Minnewaska State Park is lovely this time of year. Control requires more than one full moon.”

#interaction: lilit #{ Furtive Meetings }

perpetuitys:

— a des reflets d'argent, la mer

sometimes michel just likes to take his time to think. even if it’s not about much, he values the personal reflection and the moments he’s able to slow down — and perhaps this is where his own surprisingly introverted self comes alive. and now that he felt a bit more nourished — because maybe he wanted to squeeze in a quick and cheeky bite beforehand — he began picking up a couple stones along the way before deciding on a pleasant spot on the ledge. at this point, skipping rocks just felt like second nature to him, almost like a very unnecessary and unhelpful sixth sense. picking up the hobby over the years, the mindless gesture just felt comforting now. a bit nostalgic even. sitting in his thoughts for a couple moments, a very specific scent took him out of them briefly and as the scent approached him, he decided to tilt his head up out of curiosity, small smile growing as he recognized the other. one he definitely didn’t see himself forgetting any time soon, especially as he learned of his frenchman status. because no matter what, before he was a vampire or immortal, he was french. that’s for certain.

“ah, we should change that, mon ami.” he flashes a bashful smirk before tossing the stone in his hand, flicking his wrist in a casually calculated way — the gesture second nature to him at this point. “i was a pretty boring, timid fledgling. mostly skipped rocks, read books for the first few decades, actually. kind of picked it up then.” he releases a humorless chuckle at the memory of that odd period of his existence, finding the idea of spending so much time doing so little much more ridiculous now than then. though, in his defense, he admits that he was also horribly depressed during that time.

michel glances over to meet the other’s gaze, interested in hearing more from him. “how’s everything been treating you though?” he turns to ask, this time offering his own stone to the other for him to try. “well… considering.” he continues, because he understands the circumstances and recognizes his own privilege in it, too. although he didn’t know too much about chris — outside his liberation affiliation and the already established french connection, of course — personally, he always admired his presence within the liberation. and truthfully, he’s been meaning to get to know more of the members individually, too. if only to become more invested, make some friends, and steadily gain trust along the way.

Being called friend by any vampire who wasn’t Neo still sat oddly with Christopher no matter how many had offered their aid to the Liberations and those who stood neutral. He knew that the individual was not the enemy, but years of regimented distrust could not be discarded so easily. “When I first changed, I leaned to play chess.” Once he was in a station where is was permitted. No one bothered to teach a peasant even one who’d managed to make the ranks amongst knights how to play a noble game.

“How old are you?” It was perhaps rude to ask, not that Christopher paid mind to niceties. But Michel looked like he’d barely been out of childhood when they changed him— maybe in his early 20s. One thing Christopher could be grateful for what that they’d practically plucked him out of the grave. Thirty-nine was by no means old, but very few in his station made it that far in his time. “Well, there was a time when having a job was seen and lowly and observation was the height of society.” Frankly, Christopher had done very poorly for himself during the regency which was why he spent most of his time in the Americas.

“Considering—“ he paused for effect. “I’ve been rather fantastic, thank you for asking.” For Christopher was alive and so were those he held dear. “We don’t need to discuss business, Michel. The breeze is refreshing and the moon is almost full. It’s a rather beautiful night.” He gave him a tight smile and bent to pick up a flat looking rock. “Now, I hear there is a technique to this. Are you willing to share your secrets?” He smirked, a quick quirk of the lips and met Michel’s eyes. He throws the rock, and as is his nature, he does it with a bit too much force, sending it right to the bottom of the water.

#interaction: Michel #{ a des reflets d'argent la mer }

cursedfm:

Sunday in the Park

AUTUMN HAD APPEARED OUT OF NOWHERE , temperature definitely demanding a hoodie , but z still wasn’t ready to pull out her full - length pants & tights just yet. plus , she loved the contrast of her actual age against how young she looked in an over - sized hoodie , knee socks , & chunky sneakers ; & it’s not like she would ever get cold.

meetings & get - togethers with christopher were few & far in between , & usually spontaneously thrown together plans , which she understood with how busy the pack & his duties kept him. the promise of his company put a little extra jump in her step as she made her way to his location - she liked chris. z couldn’t ever remember knowing another lycan as old , or even almost as old , as herself. . . & there was definitely some solidarity to be had between two old dogs. lips curled slightly at her own bad joke as she crossed the street , able to see chris hungrily eyeing the park’s inhabitants from several yards away. she shook her head , & sped up to a run to be behind him in the next moment.

her tone was playful , but she knew he’d know she meant it , ❝ don’t even think about it , monsieur chevalier. go into the mountains & hunt something worth your time. leave the cute little park duckies alone. ❞ her words curled in slightly , lips pursing with her slight baby talk as she bent towards a duck near by , before circling the bench & sitting herself down next to him.

ambered hues were bright in the sun , & her good mood would be obvious in the slight curl of her mouth as she looked him over for the first time in a long time. ❝ you’re a sight for sore eyes , chris. how’ve you been ? how’ve the new leechers been ? tell me everything. ❞

“How much respect would I lose with you if I told you that the duck started it?” He turned his bared teeth to her, this time in a smile instead of a growl. “I have coffee.” He offered the other drink and motioned for the seat besides him on the bench. As if offended by Christopher’s presence or bored now that they no longer held his attention, the ducks waddled away, some floating on the water, others intimidating an older human woman into sharing her sandwich with them. “I’m glad we were able to carve out this time together,” he told her in earnest. He sipped his coffee, it was still hot and the sweetness of it almost dessert like. It put him in an odd spirit. Tranquil, almost happy.

“The pups are coming along well.” And to Christopher anyone under 500 years old was in fact a pup, regardless of their human age. “I’m rather impressed with the new batch. I wonder if escalating tensions have put a fire under their asses, but they take training seriously. One had me walking with a limp for the better half of the morning.” Luckily Christopher healed fast. And of course a trainee being able to take him by surprise would always impress Christopher.

“How about you? How is the more politically inclined side of things?” While Christopher was a good strategist and fighter, he couldn’t talk his way around shit. “I’ve run into a few new unaffiliated pups lately. You and the alpha must have your hands full.”

#interaction: z #{ Sunday in the Park }

Tarrot card || death

death: what are three things you want to do before you die?

1. Christopher hopes to live long enough for space travel to be a viable thing for the general public. He has a curiosity he wishes to satisfy of what would the moon do to a Lycan if he were to visit it. It is one of those thoughts that only came into his mind when he was getting ready to sleep or was a little drunk. He doesn’t share this thoughts with too many others, but he has a theory that it isn’t the moon which affected lycans but rather the time. After all, young wolves feel the need to shift even on cloudy days.

2. This one is definitely a secret wish, perhaps secret from Christopher himself. He wishes to experience a normal life, a family, a job, something not tied into saving all Lycan kind. When he was human it hadn’t been a choice because he’d been too busy trying to survive; and ever since he became Lycan, Christopher was thrust into war and serving other people’s political agendas. He wonders what it would be like to just be average, lycan or not. But he knows he isn’t really suited for that.

3. Christopher wants to live on each continent. So far he’s lived on three, but still wanted to explore more of Asia since he never got further than the middle east. He hasn’t lived in Africa, Australia and South America either. He’s visited many times, but when he says live there, he means a life time, in which he gets to disappear and become someone else.

#talc-cite #Le Chevalier: Headcanons

🌨

🌧- For a heavy, emotional secret

Christopher has only ever changed one person. It was a long time ago, but Christopher could not forget it. In fact, it had changed everything for him. It was also the reason he refused to ever change someone again.

#tw: death #tw: depression #tw: suicide #all implied

🙃! (lighter, more embarrassing secret!)

“If it’s lighter, what’s the point of keeping it a secret? Besides, absolutely nothing embarrasses me.” Christopher can’t dance. It’s a shame because he does have a strong appreciation for the art form, but his body just doesn’t move that way. He did alright during the regency era, where most movements, especially for men, were rather stiff and consisted mostly of memorizing where he needed to stand and whose hand to reach out for. Anything that comes after the 1900s, Christopher is terrible at.

#Anonymous

mickyswildlifeexploring

Portrait of a Raven

#inspiration: photography #queued

sanguisugefm:

“So you will help me out this month, Great.” Jon managed to sound annoyed, but underneath the bravado he was relieved that Christopher had been willing to offer help. Jon had spent years trying to control this and it never amounted to anything. At least now he would a plan.

“I know you come here like clockwork asking about my game plan. If you weren’t going to help me then you wouldn’t have come here asking about my plans. I won’t beg you but I would appreciate a little help for the moon.”

Jon would not find himself begging a man to help him, but it would be foolish to pass up the help when it was offered so readily. “What do you propose I do? I’m 51 and still can’t control this shit.” Jon was growing angered by the pathetic nature of his condition. It was lonely and sad. So in his true character, Jon slammed his fist into the nearest light post causing a cracking of his knuckles and a large dent. “I’m sick of being isolated and yet I can’t get over the rage every lycan brings out of me. I was just trying to help someone I thought was in trouble and I get transferred a curse that destroyed me.”

Helping Jon out would be helping himself out. Again, Christopher wasn’t a saint, he just took his responsibilities seriously. They were lucky Jon hadn’t been found out before. But despite the man’s insistence on behaving or rather misbehaving like an overgrown adolescent, Christopher had to assume he had some kind of survival skills.

“What’s the point of begging when I’ve already offered.” His expression was flat. Even the patience he’d cultivated over the last 900 years was running thin. It wasn’t just Jon who’d tested in the last day or so, but he might be the one to break the final thread. “Have you ever consulted any other lycans or rather just chose to antagonize them and continue to do the same thing every full moon?” Christopher’s patience did run out then. “Like you said, you’re 51 now. It has been at least 30 years since your change. You’re still alive, which can’t be said for most Lycans in the last 20 years. You have no idea what being destroyed looks like.”

#interaction: Jon

sanguisugefm:

“Vampires have always been sore at Lycans for tainting the bloodlines. Lycans came from vampires and a vampire took up the sword against its own kind, though they viewed them as tainted. It’s in the essence of Cain who murdered his brother.” Lilit added the more straight forward story that was spread among the species. Lilit, however, was resigned to dwell in the tale of heroes and kings of Greece. It was all the same vision painted in different shades of bloodshed.

“Familiarity happens when the creators of the history never die. Of course, vampires portray your kind as inferior because we crave dominance. We view ourselves superior, well I view myself superior to everyone….. even our bloody king.” Lilit laughed at the confession. Why was this lycan so easy to speak to? Maybe it was her newest devotion. Her existence smoothed a long life of resentment.

“I need her to control herself this moon…. malakás…” she uttered the curse under her breath at the realization of being stuck under the weight of a moons wrath. “I can’t risk being near her, can I?” The pain ebbed into her voice as she questioned him further. He would no doubt realize there was more than just a casual friendship with an unknown wolf.

Sore was a cute way of saying hated. It was enough to make Christopher break his flat and indifferent expression to roll his eyes. “Vampires see Lycans as tainted, Lycans see Vampires as less than—“ Speaking in the third person helped distance himself and his current partner in conversation from the situation at hand. It felt less accusatory and communicated what he meant better. Christopher did not blame Lilit specifically for what happened and he felt secure enough in saying she didn’t directly blame him. But in such sensitive topics, distance was necessary. “Cain and Abel, East of Eden, Hamlet, I don’t remember my siblings, but I’m sure we weren’t always friendly.” They hadn’t started a global conflict but who knows, maybe if they’d had enough time and power.

Laughing, Christopher clicked his tongue. “Careful there, some might call that treason.” Of course he was joking. Though part of him felt that Aleksander wouldn’t take lightly to that pronouncement. “I wouldn’t recommend it, no.” He frowned. While he did not think the young Lycan would automatically attack, he couldn’t account for the possibility of it happening if the Lycan were frightened or felt threatened in any way. “It would be safest if she were somewhere with only nature and the moon to keep her company. Preferably away from farmlands definitely away from the city.” He knew of Lycans who chained or caged themselves, but Christopher’s philosophy was not to deny the change. If one spent their whole time fighting against the change or physical restraints their minds were too preoccupied to learn how to control it.

#interaction: lilit #{ Furtive Meetings }

lunar-davvn:

‘’No, no that’s truly alright. I’m driving tonight.’’ she uttered with a polite smile at the gentleman that had approached her for conversation. He kept trying to offer her a champagne flute, but she couldn’t exactly explain why she refused. Telling the human male that she only indulged when alcohol had a certain ingredient, that flowed through his veins, added to it’s concoction, wasn’t exactly the greatest manner to start a conversation. Perhaps if she wished to start a wide spread panic, it would be perfect. Maybe for another day. Today was all about honoring a certain someone. ‘’Will you excuse me?’’ she uttered, slipping past the persistent gentleman and leaving him quite confused over why she’s left so suddenly during his enthralling story about the time he traveled the world.

She made her way through the crowd, weaving over to the opposite side of the lobby, plainly making sure that human would believe she had somewhere to be. The moment her friend from work had left, he had descended upon her like a hawk, and she was in no mood for his foolish flirtations. She’d come to enjoy herself and revel in the memory of her mother. The woman that had introduced her to the musical and theater arts when she was still a small child. Her mother, the concert pianist that has passed away many years after her only daughter had vanished into the night. Neo didn’t feel any sadness over the matter any longer, but still felt a need to celebrate the woman that had in some way shaped her into whom she was. And what better way than to visit the theater on the day of her mother’s birth as an homage?

This rendition of Scheherazade had been magnificent! It had been a musical masterpiece and she wanted to reminisce to her hearts content, but a small tap to her shoulder followed by a familiar voice pulled her out of her reverie. ‘’Chris?’’ she exclaimed as she turned to face him, the surprise to her features quickly being replaced with wide smile. ‘’Oh my–’’ she cut off her own words as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. ‘’I truly wish I could say the same…’’ she teased as she released him and gave him a once over, taking in the very high class four piece suit he was wearing, reminding her of the Christopher she used to know sixty years ago. But then she took in his scruffy hair, outgrown beard and skeptical gaze…

‘’But yes! Hydration and sun avoidance are certainly part of the daily routine… It’s a good thing I’m quite the night owl.’’ she chuckled, delighted to have run into an old friend. Some might question how on earth she became friends with a lycan, but the road to friendship had been a bumpy one to say the least. She’d needed time for him to grow on her, but now she could honestly say, Chris was one of her closest friends. ‘’You know, facial hair adds about 200 years–’’ her brow raised in mock defiance. ‘’– and the twenty-first century has the technology you know..’’ the corner of her lips tipped upward in amusement. She was a genuine tease, but she’d always loved picking on Chris for some reason. He just made it too easy.

‘‘What did you think of Scheherazade?’‘ she asked, smoothing down her dress. ‘‘The violin solo was breathtaking wasn’t it? It truly set the tone for both the King’s trauma as for the virgin wives.’‘ she spoke, a thoughtful expression to her features. ‘‘I mean, his fear of betrayal, coupled with their fear of never seeing another sunrise… truly brought to life by that violinist.’‘

Christopher swept his fingers through his hair, putting it back in place. “I can always trust you to be honest with me, at least.” He wasn’t too concerned with his looks. He’d lose the beard soon enough because he liked having the option to drastically change how he looked based on whether he had it or not. He hugged her back, strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, albeit a little awkwardly since Christopher was decidedly not a hugger. “I never thought I’d run into you, but I suppose where good music goes, you follow.”

He walked them to a high table and set down his glass, leaning against it as they continued talking. Because of the choices he’d made in the last 60 years, more specifically the last 40 since he became Christopher, he felt a bit out of place in such an environment. He knew that he blended in well enough. His suit was designer and bespoke; his hair and beard were a bit wild, but artists and art lovers alive had a creative license when it came to style. But having Neo there worked wonders more than the suit ever could. He was back to more careless days where going to the theater or orchestra was done almost nightly.

He laughed. “What’s another 200 years?” Looking the exact same, except for a few added scars—and even those faded with enough time—for the last 900 or so years got tedious, but at least Christopher was not an especially vain man. “I’ve heard of these things called beard trimmers, but I don’t trust them. I much prefer my knife.“ Christopher did in fact own a bear trimmer and someone had even gifted him with beard oils. The issue was that other than showering and brushing his teeth, Christopher rarely paid attention to how he looked. “I like to think I look scarier this way.” And that carried a tiny grain of truth with it.

“You know how obsessed I am with that solo and nothing beats experiencing a real master perform it.” That was one thing he loved about making New York his current headquarters. He wouldn’t have to miss out on his favorite things. Every block held some kind of museum and there wasn’t a lack of theaters. “I hear that they’re planning to do Petrushka next year.” Christopher’s love for Stravinsky was second only to his love for Bernstein. Really, more than Lycanthropy, his real curse was not being a gifted musician or dancer—not that he’d ever tried dance. “So, I don’t suppose you only came to New York for the ballet.”

#Interaction: Neo #{ 1001 nights }

thereadersdesire

#inspiration: art #queued

cursedfm:

NO SMALL AMOUNT OF JOY was to be had at the obvious way christopher seemingly wanted to crawl out of his own skin as sinclair compelled the waitress away. it was harmless , really , & yet he could see the lycan’s jaw tick from the corner of his eye , like he’d just told the woman to go climb up to the roof & jump. he painted a purposefully innocent look on his face , sea - foam hues wide & innocent as his lips pursed to take another thick pull from his milkshake.

a quiet hum prefaced his response , ❝ oh , come now. i meant nothing bad by it. all the fine lines give you character. i wished i would’ve been a little older when i was turned. i’m stuck being perpetually baby - faced for the rest of eternity. hence , your creatively amusing shirley temple shake. ❞ the sarcasm in his tone would be impossible to miss.

at chris’s next comment , sinclair could only snort. he was grateful he’d pulled away from his dessert in time , otherwise , he’d be choking. ❝ well - trained ? that functions ? is that what you’d call your little rag - tag group of pups ? i certainly hope not. you & z might be the only ones that actually stand a chance. zac too , if he can think with his head & not his heart for five seconds. & i’ll tell you , it definitely does matter to me , the liberation’s readiness. but i suppose you are right about the fact that we’re not here to sling insults at each other. . . as fun as it may be. ❞ chris’s last question would be promptly ignored. sinclair had already spilled his guts & plans to enough people , & the fact was , chris simply didn’t rank. he could have a nice chat with zac if he really wanted to know what sinclair was planning.

lips were back around his straw , killing his milkshake with a few final swallows. fingers wrapped around the glass , lifting it to his mouth & tilting it back until the cherry hit his tongue. his body rejected the sensation immediately , but clair chewed on , personally enjoying the splash of candied - cherry flavor.

❝ hmmm , no , apologies mon lupe. i cannot speak for the current state of things back home. though , if you do end up going , get me one of those shitty little eiffel tower keychains , yeah ? ❞

—

Christopher studied Sinclair’s face, not liking that he was incapable of telling how honest the other man was. He couldn’t gage whether or not his comment was sincere or just continuation of his facetious and mirthful commentary. “Yes, youth, what a horrible curse. Maybe you can grow a beard.” He scoffed. “In my defense, I also expected the shake to taste like shit. Who in their right mind decided mixing grenadine and vanilla ice cream was a good idea?” Christopher didn’t actually try it. “Is there actually Sprite in there as well?” Wouldn’t the lemon in the soda make the cream curdle. He grimaced, best not to think about it.

Christopher grinned, a true smile, bared teeth an all. “Please do continue to describe as such. Make sure, especially in the company of any other vampires, to mention that we are handicapped and that our only leader has a soft heart.” It would only benefit them for the vampires to continue to think them weak. After all, wasn’t it the Lycans’ hubris which led to Aleksander’s victory in the first place. Hadn’t they thought themselves the evolved and improved creature.

Christopher didn’t miss the evasion, but he’d let it pass. The last thing he wanted was to argue with the vampire in an open space. And from what little he knew about him so far, evasion was a talent for him. “Tu me fais vraiment chier.” He shook his head at the mon loup and picked at the food he’d gotten himself. In another life maybe and Sinclair could have been friends, but as the situation was now, distance served them better. “With your sweet tooth, maybe a box of Macaron would be better suited,” he joked, knowing full well he probably shouldn’t continue to try and irritate the vampire by offering him food that hurt him considering Zac seemed to trust him well enough. It was petty and juvenile; and yet so tempting.

#interaction: sinclair #{ snakes in the garden }

talc-cite:

her initial worry was that she didn’t wish to disappoint the man in admitting she didn’t have any money to pay for shawarma or whatever else they’d be having. her second worry was that he’d feel obligated to offer and pay for a meal after already handing her a dagger to protect herself with. her third worry was that he was right in that she may not be up for the activity of walking. she didn’t wish to be a burden, but it was clearly in her nature to be so. there were things she wished she could change about herself, but that was the least of them since it made for far better company than sewer rats and other homeless people of New York. it wasn’t everyday Alchara made friends. “Sure.” an uneasy nod would couple a hidden expression of gratitude in his generosity towards her, a stranger. “But nothing too expensive, okay?”

though he was right in his assumptions, she’d chuckle at his words. a string of advice would hang in the air for but a moment. she wasn’t certain if he were serious, but she was one to take advice literally in terms of humans and not cards– “Are you an expert then? In daggers and bodies?” eyes would carefully scan his face as if to search for a murderer’s mark. “Just how long have you been this way? And… just how many knives have you left behind in corpses?”

she wanted to ask if they were only bad guys, too. while he seemed safe, she could never be too sure, then again, it wasn’t every day a Lycan had given her anything of substance, like a knife to help defend herself with. she would further press for advice, “When does it…” she’d shuffle with her hands in her pockets, a dagger safely tucked away and an insecurity in her stance as words approached, “When does it stop hurting? The change – well everything. I’ve asked plenty of others, but I never get answers I like.”

—

There was something she wasn’t telling Christopher. Something she seemed happy to keep hidden by asking him questions about himself instead. He wondered if Zac had any contact with her. She wasn’t pack, he was sure he would have recognized her or at least seen her before if she were. She could be a prospective member or new to town. Christopher opened the door to a local Falafel place, which also boasted to have the best shawarma in New York City. A claim Christopher had seen before at many other such places. It was fairly clean and well lit and that was sometimes all a person could really ask for. “Don’t worry about it. I got it this time.” His statement didn’t leave room for arguments. Christopher wasn’t known for being kind of generous. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to perform acts of service, but when the opportunity presented itself, it was no skin off his back to offer a meal.

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert.” Then, what was he? He was more proficient with a weapon than a pen, maybe even a fork. “I’ve done this a long time,” he explained. “It’s important that you know how to protect yourself. Especially now.” He pressed his lips tightly. It was difficult to admit just how familiar he was with ending a life. It was never something Christopher would be proud of. He knew of other soldiers who wore their number of casualties like a trophy, but they were few. Only monsters enjoyed the kill. The rest of them did it for survival. “Is that your subtle way of asking my age?”

They were directed to a table by a tired looking host who took his place behind the cash register as soon as they sat to answer the phone. It was a small mom and pop operation which became evident when that same host brought them their waters and took their drink orders. “I’ll be 899 years old this Spring.” He wasn’t sure which day exactly, but he remembered celebrating it in Spring.

Christopher frowned and looked down at his menu. The weight of ending a life heavy on him and he’d ended so many. “If they’re corpses they pose no threat. I take the knives back and properly bury the bodies if possible.” He’d been a religious man once. He met her eyes at that question. “When you accept it. When you become one with the wolf. It’s not— It’s not a curse or a punishment. What hurts—“ As far as Christopher had philosophized. “Is the denial of a natural thing. Like forcing yourself awake when you need sleep or starvation. It’s unnatural for us not to shift.” Even though he could control it, Christopher shifted as often as it was safe to.

#Interaction: Alchara #{ j'vois les ombres comme des corps }

“Mais, si tu m'apprivoises, nous aurons besoin l'un de l'autre. Tu seras pour moi unique au monde. Je serai pour toi unique au monde,” — Le Petit Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

#Le visage du chevalier #inspiration: citations

sanguisugefm:

“It is far too early in the evening for bribery.” Her eyes would glint with a hint of amusement. Their banter, something Lilit had not intended to kindle, was more bearable than the elder vampire imagined it to be. He was a Lycan, like that mattered to her anymore. “I find it to be a double edged sword at best. My culture, as an independent entity, is a fascinating subject to ponder. As a lump sum, you realize the influences it had on the ever changing world around it.”

Lilit noted the approaching heartbeat, stepping toward her companion as she spoke on art and other subjects that a human would deem to be normal. “Obedience of blinded nature leads to a generation who cannot think for themselves. My sire….father shared a very old myth from his youth. Are you familiar with the legend of King Lykaon? He tricked the gods into eating human flesh. In my father’s rendition, it was blood. The gods fell from Olympus to become immortal beings suspended in eternal youth, stripped of all godly powers. They resented Lyckaon and made him the first bitten vampire. Lykaon in turn sought out further demise by tainting his own blood. It was better than being like the beings he despised. He became a Lycan and the war is forever raging between the two. I would wager that this myth is not too far fetched from truth, one cultures interpretation of another. The written history is along the same lines if you are interested to know it.”

“This piece is not my favorite.” Lilit brushed it from her sight, turning to fnd something more secluded to enjoy. “I have a secret, one that no one knows. I need the help of an elder lycan or I wouldn’t consider revealing it to you. How do you teach a Lycan to control their changing on a full moon?”

“Perhaps, but flattery never hurt anyone.” He examined the photograph before them, not at all interested in it, but wanting to keep up appearances for the sake of continuing their conversation in relative privacy. And if wolves and vampires came up in the conversation, the other patrons could just assume that Christopher and Lilit were discussing myths and folklore.

“That sounds rather familiar, doesn’t it?” Christopher remembered little about what began the conflict between the two factions. As far as he could recall, they’d already been deemed the enemy when Christopher learned of their existence. He knew that his type, Lycans, had been bred for the purpose of war, at least those he’d encountered in his youth. They weren’t entirely innocent in the conflict and neither were the vampires, but history was controlled by the victors. So for now, Lycans were meant to be serving a punishment for what— claiming to have been the evolved version of vampires. Christopher knew one thing. He’d had no say over his change, in fact he couldn’t even recall it happening. And, as a soldier, blind obedience was his default.

“No, I’m not familiar with King Lykaon.” Lilit’s on recounting of their origin fascinated him. Having never met an ancient—if any had even survived from the time of creation—Christopher had no reason to think her version was any less true than the one he’d been fed as a pup. “History shifts to suit modern audiences and well, there is always room for interpretation. Some call us cursed, yet as science has advanced humans have done everything in their power to stay alive.” Christopher shrugged his shoulders. “The more wars I fight in, the more I begin to think that we invent petty excuses to abuse those we deem less important than us.”

“Practice, meditation, lots of yoga.” It was a flippant answer. His trust for Lilit still tentative which made discussing anything concretely lycan difficult to discuss with her. “I do not need to know your secret,” he said. “But controlling the shift for a pup is a long and painful process.” Christopher himself had taken a long time to learn because the Bishop had more of a use for his army when they were feral.

#interaction: lilit #{ Furtive Meetings }

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