that awful sound (oh eurydice)

OC Multi-Muse. Private. 18+. Penned by Leo.

[edenmemes]

the green knight starters

❝ look, see a world that holds more wonders than any since the earth was born. ❞   ❝ let me tell you instead a new tale. ❞   ❝ so stay a while. rest. and make yourself content. ❞ ❝ and if death awaits me? ❞ ❝ surely your knights have spilled enough blood in your name to bind them closer to you than i. ❞ ❝ good to have one’s family by one’s side. ❞   ❝ i recognize but i do not know you. ❞ ❝ what is this? a trick? ❞ ❝ and this is what you want most in life? ❞ ❝ green is the color of earth, of living things, of life. ❞ ❝ the world is fit for all manner of mysteries. ❞ ❝ you are not very good with questions. ❞ ❝ surely a knight knows something of love. ❞ ❝ i never knew so many books even existed. ❞ ❝ what if i wanted to sit by your side and take your hand and have your ear? ❞ ❝ do you still fancy me? do i make you happy? ❞ ❝ green is what is left when ardor fades, when passion dies, when we die, too. ❞ ❝ when you return, you will come with your head held high. ❞ ❝ this is how silly men perish. ❞ ❝ you rest your bones, my brave little knight. ❞ ❝ where you off to? a knightly quest? ❞ ❝ all dead. no one to bury them. ❞ ❝ by nightfall, you will be at the doorway of your destiny. ❞ ❝ i promise, you will not come to harm. ❞ ❝ why greatness? why is goodness not enough? ❞ ❝ are you really going to go? ❞ ❝ you’ll do this one thing, you return home a changed man, an honorable man? just like that? ❞ ❝ keep your five fingers strong, your five senses sharp. ❞ ❝ you have mud on your face. ❞ ❝ is it wrong to want greatness for you? ❞ ❝ i’ve been waiting for you. did you not hear me calling? ❞ ❝ what do you expect me to do? ❞ ❝ i am the luckiest here today because i am amongst you. ❞ ❝ do not take your place amongst legends idly. ❞ ❝ though my will longs to leap across this table and meet you, my body will not follow. ❞ ❝ you tell me a tale of yourself, so that i might know you. ❞ ❝ i’ve got no guts for merriment this year. ❞   ❝ i need…i need a sword. ❞ ❝ i dare say every table in this land has heard of you and sung your song. ❞ ❝ i know more than just your name. ❞ ❝ well, come on in if you want. ❞ ❝ perhaps you think that i am something i’m not. ❞ ❝ why would you ask me that? why would you ever ask me that? ❞ ❝ are you real, or are you a spirit? ❞ ❝ you are at the end of your quest. a little sooner than you expected, perhaps. but such is the case for us all. ❞ ❝ i am just a lost traveler, seeking rest for the night. ❞ ❝ did my father send for you? ❞ ❝ are you certain there is nothing you wish to give me? ❞ ❝ what will you say if i asked you to make me your lady? ❞ ❝ i do not know of any man who has not marched up to greet death before his time. ❞ ❝ were you afraid? ❞ ❝ you have had a year to find courage. ❞ ❝ come, come home. come home with me. ❞ ❝ i never asked for your company anyway! ❞ ❝ what witchcraft is this? ❞ ❝ go that way and your doom is at hand. ❞ ❝ unhand me and let us go our ways. ❞ ❝ fear not. you’ve only slept through the night. ❞ ❝ which direction are you headed? ❞ ❝ i will eat and give thanks and then take my leave. ❞ ❝ how do you know my name? ❞ ❝ you will find no mercy. no happy end. ❞ ❝ i don’t want your games, or your gifts, or your kindness. ❞ ❝ there’s an enchantment sewn into its threads. wear it and you will never be struck down. ❞ ❝ do you believe in magic, in witchcraft? ❞ ❝ do not touch me. ❞ ❝ i’ve lost something. will you help me find it? ❞ ❝ i’m very sorry. i…i did not see you. ❞ ❝ i fear i am not meant for greatness. ❞ ❝ stand up and face me! ❞ ❝ make a move or i shall make mine. ❞ ❝ let’s just stay here. come. let’s just stay here. ❞   ❝ i’ve got time. i’ve got lots of time. ❞   ❝ out my window this morning i looked, and i saw a land shaped by your hands. ❞ ❝ i look out upon my friends here today and i see songs no muse could ever sing or dream of. ❞ ❝ no. i’m not ready yet. ❞   ❝ i’ll finish this quest for you. ❞

[destructiveglitch]

looking for dnd players to add to an existing campaign i DM (think horror, whimsical, and heavy rp driven). Theres affinity systems, alternate death systems, and even a dream system! We are with 4 players, id love to have a total of 5-6 (someone had to leave unfortunately so we have a spot open). I just dont know who’s free on every other Sunday at 5pm CEST/CET/Amsterdam time, via discord vc.. so here i am after not showing my face for a month 😏 anyone got time and love for my romance horror campaign where i do silly voices with extreme passion? Let me... know.

[deathcraft]

to be perfectly honest i have such a hot-cold relationship with rp tumblr. i miss it and then do things like make this entire new blog and setup a whole g-doc that’s like 99% complete just to roleplay and meet new people, and then i so easily get disenchanted with everything about this place and how the community tends to function lol (no i won’t elaborate). and when i feel that way i just abandon tumblr for however long that feeling lasts. still, ultimately i like coming back because it can be very inspiring and motivating to be around other creative writers working on their craft. 

that said, it’s a cold and dark rainy day and i still have to go outside and walk the dogs ☹ but i think today i’ll finally do the last touches on the g-doc, reblog some prompts to get some interactions rolling, and go on a following spree after i get it looking tidy in here lol

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍​

—- Octavia has that rough edge

            doctors like her often wear, but it’s never moreso. Behind that ice-cold glare was always a smile just waiting to be tempted out. Velour noticed early on that whenever they exchanged glances, Octavia never had to try to smile, it just came naturally. In those moments, she could feel her heart tremble and imagine a world where she was her girl.

Things have changed, as they often do after ten to twenty years. Right now there is no heart to rely on, and still she can feel something tremble inside of her whenever Octavia so much as smiles just a little. It’s been so long since they had a chance to pass time together, but ever since the end of their messy road trip through Europe, she understood: some people are worth the wait, and she is one of them.

Maybe that’s why, even now that her life has taken a turn for the worst considering the drastic change in direction, she’s sticking around. Although in Velour’s point of view, Octavia is the one who made the choice of allowing her in after all this time. Her metaphor about reality and the discovery of new things has her mull over some theories of her own, but she’s never been all that eloquent when it comes down to thoughts and feelings. It sits on the tip of her tongue, however: ‘the more I look at you, the more I want to… the more I want to…’ The more she wants to…

What does she want?

In this moment, she wants to be the anomaly Octavia speaks of, the one she longs to disassemble and observe and keep close under a microscope with the fluorescent lights of her lab that imitate the memories of her warm embrace. In this moment, she wants to tell her that yes, she misses the first time Octavia let her bite her neck and do so much more to satiate a different kind of famine that’s been going on for longer than she’d like to admit. And still, she says nothing even when the doctor tells her exactly what it is she wants.

Velour’s stare intensifies, creepy crawlers make their home inside the belly of a beast that twists and turns in anticipation. “You want it?” she asks, a taunt carrying the surprise in her voice. The grip on Octavia’s jaw tightens when she leans in and sniffs her neck up close, water flooding the bed of her mouth. The tips of her teeth graze her skin, and for a moment it’s as if there’s a glimmer of hesitance – there isn’t. It’s just Velour waiting for Octavia to pull back, change her mind last second. 

But when there is no disruption even when she puts her lips to where she bit her last time, she gives a fair warning: “alright then. Relax now,” and eventually digs her teeth into her throat. Blood comes pouring the second she pulls out her fangs, and she messily catches the river of red with her tongue before covering the fresh wound with her mouth. It drips down her jaw and the base of Octavia’s throat. Her body responds when she draws deep, gulping mouthful after mouthful, reveling in the strength and life that fills her veins, jolts her limbs, and grants her this semblance of life. She wants more. Velour wraps an arm around Octavia’s waist and pulls the throbbing of her heart close against her chest. She sucks harder, drinks deeper, until a minute passes and she forces herself to pull her face away lest she drains her empty.

Her breathing is ragged, heavy. The tip of her tongue catches a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth before she kisses another spot on Octavia’s neck. “Good girl,” she laughs lightly, and tries to wipe some of the blood from her throat – a futile attempt at taking care of the mess, especially considering the bleeding doesn’t stop right away. It taunts her, and still Velour tries to find the boundaries Octavia never outright laid down. “Are you okay? Need a…” The smell lures her closer. “… a break?”

The simple act of telling Velour her preferred method of being used as a blood bag felt much more like an intimate confession once the words were spoken. The tension oozed out between each word, and it felt like a release, no matter how miniscule. The both of them knew very well what happened the last time they agreed to this arrangement, even if they danced around it, as they did with many things. This doctor was never particularly talented on the dance floor, nor did she have any interest in it. Anything less than a straightforward approach was maddening, and this particular social dilemma felt like a puzzle she could not solve on her own.

Their reunion had made for some of the best times of Octavia's life, but it ignited the memory of decades past at the same time. Velour herself had been dearly missed, but the inner turmoil that arose every time she toyed with her was torture. Was this Hell? The taunt turns her gaunt cheek a lively, rosy hue, and the heat that accompanies it indicates that yes, this must be Hell. Her eyes widen, but meeting her gaze makes her regain the bold confidence that accompanied her through every other aspect in life. She gives an affirmative nod, and practices what she had had preached to so many patients throughout life.

The breath that caught in her throat, comes out in a deep exhale, relaxing her muscles for the woman she has, essentially, served herself to. She expects more hesitancy, a mimicry of the uncertainty of their first successful attempt, but the fangs puncture her skin in one swift bite. Even with the knowledge it was coming, she gasps and grips into the chair. She fidgets, and shifts again, putting her arms around the vampire herself. Fingers dig into the clothes on her back, curling into the fabric with each new suckle against the wound. Her own heart races in her chest, and with the both of them pressing their chests tightly into each other, she doesn't need a heart monitor for Velour to feel it. For a moment, she almost mistakes her own heartbeat for a jolt of life in the undead, but there was no signs of life to be found. Just another cold body she clung onto, pressing closely against her until no space remained.

Blood drips from the wound, and even with an attentive drinker lapping at it, some drops manage to get into the cotton of her folded-down turtleneck. As she adjusts to the position they've found themselves in, she uses the palms of both hands to pull the hair out of Velour's face, slicking it back  and tying the upper half up with a rubber band. A good way of keeping the blood from her hair. There's a flutter in her chest, and she can't say for certain if it's from the compliment or the blood loss. Still, she lets out a chuckle. "Pretty sure you're a few decades late for calling me that, dear. I already spotted my first few grays when I met you the first time, remember?" The joys of finding gray hair in your twenties. She couldn't evade the nostalgia that rolled over her whenever they found themselves in rare moments like this, holding each other close.

Licking her thumb, she wipes at the corner of Velour's mouth for her, catching a missed spot or two for the messy eater. She shakes her head, and answers a little too quickly. "No. All good." She scans her face for any indication of her hunger. "You know, you can... keep going if you want. It'll take awhile to heal over again after this. You might as well have what you want now."

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ​ ​ ​ ​

—- This isn’t the first time

                   Octavia tries lecturing her on just how much trash goes in the making of junk food, and it’s also not the first time Velour just shrugs it off with a roll of her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. And there’s bugs in pink food dye, milkshakes have more chemicals in them than fertilizers, and most burgers or fries don’t rot for another century. Yet, by some miracle, none of that was what killed me, was it? In fact, I’m still here! Maybe our bodies were built to survive that kind of shit… besides, it still tastes great.” At the very least, she remembers everything Octavia ever said to her. 

Velour watches as the doctor rolls up her sleeve. The moment the quiet plays, she knows her friend is contemplating the idea, and with that, contemplating the risk that comes with it. She’s not on the edge of her seat all that often, but right now is different. There’s the fear of rejection haunting the back of her mind, a simple ‘no’ will mean the end of everything she fantasized about in the last few weeks of Octavia picking at her like a patient of her own. It reminds her of when they were younger, and while she’s unsure of how to feel about that specific kind of memory, she longs for a quick verdict ruled in her favor.

And that’s exactly what happens. Velour’s grin stretches, the wrinkles under her happy eyes etching deeper. Somewhere in another timeline, her heart skips a beat. Octavia is quick, her hands twice as cold in comparison to her own when they reach under her shirt to connect her to the monitor. There’s no shame when she relishes in it for a second too long, she has the conscience of a woman who’s tasted the fruit far too many times in the past, and only once again a few moon cycles back. A hunger that, even post mortem, continues to dominate the most intricate corners of her mind. A hunger that exceeds the need for blood.

She jumps off the table and steps closer before putting a hand on Octavia’s shoulder. Both ears pricked up, she tries to catch up on any hint that’ll give away where she wants her to bite, but there’s no outright answer. “You’re not prey,” she eventually says and - urged by that same boldness - climbs on top of her, one leg on either side of her lap. “I’m not a tiger.” Velour takes her lower arm and presses it against her cold cheek, both eyes fixed on Octavia’s. “I’d never kill you either… But it’s what you read about in books, right? And see in movies… It’s what all the girls fawn over. Maybe even we did, when we were younger.” 

Lowering her arm, she reaches for the turtleneck’s collar and flicks two fingers between the fabric and her skin, feeling for the scars from last time. “I think it’s only fair for it to be a two-way street. You give me your blood, I try and make it nice for you.” More than nice. She rolls down the collar and lets go of the doctor’s arm, to instead tilt her head sideways with a gentle grip on her sharp jaw, thumb pressing into cheek. The longer she stares at her throat, the dryer her tongue feels. “… And when I bite your neck, I can feel your heartbeat. The only time I ever feel a heartbeat. For a moment, it’s like it’s not just yours, but also mine.” The silence from the heart monitor is deafening. Her finger taps her neck. “But I won’t bite you there if that’s not what you want. I can take from your arm… Your body, your call.”

It was strange, hearing her own words repeated back to her. The ease with which Velour shrugged off her critique in the past gave her the impression that she paid them no mind. Who knew that she not only listened, but committed her words to memory? A discreet little smile creeps up on her lips, watching the rogue out of the corner of her eye. "When it comes to the living, you have a point." She concedes that much. "But from what you have personally experienced so far, the same does not ring true for those of the bloodsucking variety." For someone who was by all means immortal and empowered unlike anything she had ever seen before, it was fascinating to see an order of fries bring her to her knees.

It would have been for the best if she could maintain a professional distance. A bag served as cold as the medical indifference felt was the wisest choice in that scenario, but all it took was the mere suggestion of a close and warm alternative for her to toss that idea aside. The heart monitor is predictably silent, a world of a difference to the rapid stir of her own beating through her chest when Velour gets on top of her. The touch of her cheek sends a chill rippling through her, one that can be visibly traced by the goosebumps rising on her arms.

The first few times she lent her neck to her dear friend felt like ages ago. Octavia had been shameless and eager, insisting it was all in the name of assisting her, but that was only a fraction of the truth. It was exciting to be included, to follow Velour into this new world unlocked by a night gone wrong, and more than anything, it reminded her of all the best memories of decades past. The anxiety inducing question that would linger in the back of her mind with each time they touched, and that sweet rush of adrenaline when she would get an answer. Today felt no different from back then. Her breath caught in her throat, waiting on her every word with a tangible tension filling the air. Everyone had their vices, those few pleasures in life they could never bring themselves to say no to, and for Octavia, Velour was one of them.  

"I don't know, Velour..." She's all too aware of how often she speaks her name, and the ease with which it rolls off her tongue. "I was never one for fiction. Never held much appeal to me." With her neck angled out, she keeps her gaze cast aside, into the blur that filled the space where her glasses did not touch. Textbooks, documentaries, nonfiction, and biographies were her points of intrigue for as long as she could remember. Much to the dismay of anyone in her company on movie night. "Reality is fascinating enough on its own. If you look at anything for long enough - whether its observing them in daily life or disassembling their parts, then its only a matter of time until you discover something new." With cold fingers at her neck, the doctor meets the red tint of her eyes.

"Ever since you came back, I feel like I'm witnessing an anomaly whenever I see you’re here." She recalls the day after they reunited, sitting at her desk, trying to calculate the odds. A series of equations written down, over and over, on piles of paper that covered until the wood beneath was buried. Moving to the city had increased the likelihood by a small margin, but her social circle could be counted on one hand. The chances of Rover knowing the both of them? Cluelessly reuniting them? The one aspect that felt stacked up astronomically against her favor, were the odds of Velour actually wanting to stay. And yet, days and weeks and months had come and gone, and she was still here. Never showed any thought of it, even before she had been designated her undead doctor. It felt like an error in the Universe, and yet no one had come to repair it.

Her own bony digits extend, the tips pressing into the side of Velour's neck, but even with their close proximity, there was no pulse to be found. "You make it sound nice for you, too. Do you miss it?" She tucks some strands of blue behind her ear, and after a moment of hesitation, she quietly swallows. Even now, that fear of rejection simmers in her, in spite of the vampire's positive reception to her every time before. "I want you to bite my neck."

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ​ ​ ​

—- “Ah, well. You’re right.”

                  Her teeth gnaw on the tip of the straw, puncturing it with the sharp of her fangs. “I’ll make sure to do some networking next time I go out. How hard can it be? Although, I’ll admit that I… have a sneaking suspicion that it might be a lot harder than we think. I mean, in all these years, the first and only sign of vampires existing after I get turned is… one of them trying to deck me?” Velour scoffs and mumbles: “Little cocksucker oughta be happy I didn’t stake his heart through one of his two holes.” 

Her tongue presses against the roof of her mouth when her gaze starts drifting. “… Dunno if I’d describe it as nausea, though. More like… my body entirely rejecting so much as a sprinkle of anything that’s not doused in blood and guts.” In all of her years of living, she doesn’t remember the last time she threw up as violently as then. The thought of her stomach cramping and the aftermath of having to clean up makes her reconsider Octavia’s warning (if only for a second). 

And so she keeps sipping ice-cold blood through a plastic straw, from a plastic bag. Sweet like rotten apples; fermented grapes; store-brand red wine. A little too unlike what she had back when Octavia helped her indulge - like a fresh butterscotch pie with maple syrup and honey; her skin melting in Velour’s tight grip like butter on a warm stack of pancakes; her red face and stifled breaths that grew heavier the more she lapped at her neck–

In other words, yes, it’s a world of difference. Velour only somewhat listens to what she did to pass time, Octavia’s throat is too busy taunting her attention until the collar of her sweater is fixed. That’s when she notices just how badly she’s been mauling the tip of her straw. All at once, she’s too aware of how uncomfortably her dry tongue sits in the bed of her mouth. But then Octavia tempts her longing until it’s crushed in the same breath. She tries to hide the way her ears drop under the thick of her hair. 

Velour stares at her long and hard before putting the half-empty bag down on the table. “Sounds great,” she says, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Also sounds like an awful lot of work, doing it like that. Setting it all up, waiting a while, yada yada…” She takes this as an opportunity to explore this unnamed tension between the two of them with a newfound boldness. “Might be easier to just go straight from the source. You uh, can still hook me up to a monitor. You know… for science, and all that…”

Even her old ears are able to pick up on that little comment under her breath. Her idea of a creative execution earns a laugh. "Wouldn't that be a sight." Even Octavia had to admit, having one less threat to deal with would not be such a bad thing. Velour had accrued a bountiful amount of adversaries in her mortal life. She could go without any new additions to that list, especially if they were of the immortal variety.

"And yet you still insist on eating your loaded fries. I have got to say, Velour. Your determination is admirable. Entirely unwise, but admirable, nonetheless." A genuine compliment, even if it is accompanied by a shake of her head in disbelief after that vivid depiction. "Maybe it would go down smoother if you loaded it in blood and guts instead of that so-called cheese sauce they put on it. Did you know that the bacon bits aren’t even made of bacon? It’s a soy flour mixture with food dye. Even by human standards, it is disgusting, Velour." She takes the halfway filled blood bag out of her hands, removes the bent up metal straw, re-seals it with a 'pop', and sets it back into the fridge away from the others - for a later investigation into the effects of vampiric backwash.

With their minds made up on this switch, Octavia's heart races to life with a thrill of excitement, against her better judgment. It was no secret between the two of them that she loved including herself in all the zany little details of Velour's afterlife - primarily, as a medical professional with a profound curiosity - but also, a personal interest that Velour could sniff out from a mile away, even before all the supernatural enhancements.

Rolling her sleeve all the way up to her forearm, her fingers hover right above the need when Velour proposes a counter-offer. For a moment, she is frozen where she stood,  toying with the idea, the implications that came along with it when taking their history into account. "You know what? Sure." With a smooth turn, she's nonchalantly changed course, pulling over the monitor in front of her friend. She doesn't waste any time, pulling out the collar of her decorative button-up to slip her hand right into her shirt and attach the four plastic patches around her chest with a doctor's indifference.

"Do you know what I never understood, Velour?" There is no pause for an answer. "Why go for the neck? I've done plenty of phlebotomy work. Not once have I drawn blood from the neck. I always go right here." Her index finger presses into the middle of her arm, the inside of her elbow. "The blood might not pour out as quickly, but a slower approach can be a good thing. More control. The neck makes sense from a lethal approach, like a tiger to her prey, but you haven't expressed any desire to kill me. Wouldn't it make more sense to do it this way?"

Octavia takes a seat on a stool behind her, a less elegant way of plating herself as the vampire's meal. Her sleeve remains rolled up to her shoulder, and the high collar of her sweater reaches her chin, but she makes no outright request either way.

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ​ ​

—- Velour’s stomach rumbles like a lion’s den

                the more she thinks about eating anything at all, and it’s exactly why it hits so much harder when Octavia tells her the right thing to do. Unfortunately, her track record for doing the right thing is about as great as her willingness to enjoy a game of solitaire. 

She stares at the phone in Octavia’s hand and groans, hand on her stomach. “But I want loaded fries! With extra bacon bits and a coconut milkshake!” Even if her doctor’s right (which she is). Call it resilience. “Just add ‘em to the cart, I can always change my mind when it gets here, and instead, uh… I don’t know, just sip on a stupid straw with a stupid bag of blood in hand.” Surprisingly enough, her inability to enjoy regular food the way she used to is the worst part about the whole undead deal. 

Octavia’s fingers touch the scars on her neck while Velour stares at the rolled-down turtleneck, her finger still hovering over her lock screen. Their eyes lock, an unspoken tension that sits between the two of them like a brittle twig ready to snap at any moment– until it’s gone as soon as it came at the mention of the fridge. Velour noticeably sighs with a slow nod, and tucks her phone away without having texted either Paz or Rover. There’s a hint of disappointment in the way her lids lower.

“Right,” she mumbles, slowly sauntering to the fridge in the corner of Octavia’s lab. “Cold blood… Perfect delicacy to… celebrate.” Opening the door her shoulders slump along with the features on her face. She’s suddenly reminded of all the times in the backseat of her foster parents’ cars and the neon M signs they would drive by. The amount of times she had to listen to ‘WE HAVE FOOD AT HOME’, only for ‘food at home’ to mean brussel sprouts, uncooked chicken and onions in the veggie drawer… Oh, yeah. The memories come flooding back.

She pulls out a bag and sticks in a straw from one of Octavia’s drawers, before she sits on top of the steel tables again. Her nose wrinkles at the taste of cold blood and a wandering eye is drawn to her friend. “… Thanks for stocking up.” Her gratitude is genuine, regardless. “How’s uhh… how’s your day been?”

Octavia raises an eyebrow and stares at Velour expectantly, a staring contest with an order of fries on the line. To no one's surprise, Velour does not relent. The doctor shakes her head, and with a few taps of her phone, she has caved. "Fine. I ordered them. I don't know why you insist on tormenting yourself with it, though. Just try to show some restraint when it gets here, would you? It'll take some time to figure out nausea prevention for you now that you've acquired this change in appetite." She rests her thumb against her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe the other blood-drinking creatures out there can educate us on a thing or two and help make the adjustment go smoothly for you. Ideally, someone less prone to committing acts of violence against you."

As thrilled as the doctor was to research everything there was to know about her friend's fascinating new status as undead, discoveries took time. Research took time. Experiments could be risky. Her care for her friend outweighed her scientific curiosity, and she wished for her to have a smooth, painless adjustment from here on out.

Watching her drag her feet in front of the fridge held the same emotional weight of watching a kitten get kicked. A painful sight. She wants to say more, her mouth even opens while the bloodsucker's back is turned,  but the offer dies in her throat. The last time went too well. It made her feel too young. Like fondly replaying an episode of her favorite show, and reliving all the fun and joy that came along with it. If only she didn't already know the ending.

"Nothing to thank me for. It was hardly any work at all." Except that it was, in fact, a pain in the ass to sneak it out. "... Does it really make that much of a difference in taste to you?" She stands up and follows her over to the metal counters. "My day was just fine. I finished the daily crossword ahead of schedule. Did a few dissections after lunch. Anyway," Behind thick lenses, she watches the red fluid rise through the straw. ". . . Do you want to try it fresh? We can see if it makes a difference. I can even hook you up to the monitor and get an unbiased perspective on the matter." She rolls the collar of her turtleneck back up. Maybe there was a way to go about this without repeating history. "You would just have to wait a few minutes while I draw some blood. How does that sound?"

[deathcraft]

iiiii OFFICIALLY have all the essentials written up, but i won’t be posting them until I have some sort of graphic done. hopefully tomorrow? graphic design is NOT my passion, so let’s see, lol. 

[deathcraft]

"Did you miss me? In the last... few years." Even when there are more years to count than just a few? (for their original verse :j a late night (stoned) talk)

She's in the middle of a long drag when the question comes, staring out at the cityscape and the stars from their quiet rooftop view. The exhale takes twice as long. Even then, it's quiet. It had taken two decades for them to have this conversation. A few minutes more was nothing. Her chin rests in the palm of her hand, the distant lights of the city full of life in the night reflecting in her lens.

"In the last few years, you haven't been much more than a passing thought." She admits, scratching at the side of her cheek. Octavia had half a mind to leave it at that. Leave the past in the past, and she almost does, until she glances in Velour's direction and sees the curious sparkle in her eyes. Like magic, the words come spilling out of her mouth. "But the first few years... I thought about you every moment of the day. Looked everywhere I could. Asked anyone who knew you in any capacity if they saw you. I must have wrote down the apology I wanted to tell you dozens of times, so that it would be perfect when I finally found you. There was so much I wanted to tell you." 

She taps the ashes out over the ledge. "But there was nothing. After a few months, I started to wonder if you died. In my mind, that made more sense than the reality of it. So I checked obituaries. Missing person reports. Called hospitals. Nothing, everywhere I looked."

After another puff, she slips the blunt back over to Velour's fingertips. "But then, one day, a few years after, I ran into Pascal. That douchebag we shared a class with... What was it, calculus?" A shrug of her shoulders. "He told me he saw you at a rave right out here. In Vileblight. Told me you were the life of the party. He even asked me why I wasn't there with you. I was still staying with my parents in Salt City at the time, after...." She sighs, shaking another unwanted thought from her mind. One loss to process as a time. "I accepted things as they were from that point on. There was no dramatic catastrophe to blame. You didn't want me in your life, and it was my own fault. Sounded like you were faring well, and it wasn't really my business anymore if you weren't. I figured if you moved on with your life, I should too. Tried not to think about you so much after that."

Her fingers drum against the edge of the rooftop, and for each brief interval without Velour speaking up, she takes it as a cue to continue. Pour out everything that had been on her mind in all the time they had been apart. "But... yes, a part of me always did miss you. Once I moved here, I wondered from time to time if we might ever cross paths again. Had no idea if you ever even really lived here. Still, thought that maybe I'd spot you at the grocery store. Or I'd bump into you as a stranger on the sidewalk. One time I saw a green mullet and thought for sure it was you." She chuckles. "Never thought you would get dropped in my lab one day, by Rover, of all people."

There's another long pause as she looks out over the city, peering over the edge. "For what it's worth, I am sorry. About all those years ago. I never should have snapped at you. I wish that I didn't." And finally, Octavia peers over at her old friend, lips pulled close together in anticipation. "Why do you keep coming back around now?"

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ​

—- “Let me think,” 

                  she sighs, her arms crossed as she feigns deep thinking. “Have I ever been asked to climb up a hilltop to visit some count in his old estate, with garlic breath and God as my holy right? Hm… AH!” And her hands clasp together. “… … … Nope!” Velour teases her with a wink - before any of this, the only sign of vampires she knew of came from whatever videogames she’d play in her downtime, or the Carmilla book she tried reading in high school with the intent of any young, curious gay girl. She tried, which is to say, she never got past the first page because of how much of an eyesore it was to get into. 

A celebration after a night like today’s only seems right, and there’s no one else she’d rather party with (even if Octavia’s idea of ‘fun’ sounds like playing double solitaire). Velour laughs and scratches her cheek. “Erh, I’ll skip on the solitaire,” and she just barely holds back a witty insult. “I was hoping we could invite Rover and Paz, play poker, get wasted on OJ… Maybe even watch a movie and roll up a blunt! Oh– and definitely get takeout.” Even if it makes her throw up. She hops off the table and digs through her pocket to look for her phone. “As much as I’d like to go out and catch an actual movie, I guess it wouldn’t be too great an idea.” Considering whatever might be lurking out and about.

Octavia’s question has her thumb hover over her text messages as her mind goes to wander. At first Velour says nothing, until her lips purse together when she lifts her head and looks at the doctor. “Why? You offering?” she asks matter-of-factly, but there’s no denying the slight longing that starts to build in her belly. She’s hungry, just good at ignoring it. For now. “You got any… blood bags in the fridge?”

The clever comedy might seem obvious to anyone else, but Octavia waits for an answer with an intent stare. She knew very little of Velour's work, aside from what the end result would always be. Strange little requests must not be so uncommon when committing an act as personal as bringing a life to an end, right? She knew even less of the inner workings of vampire society, and what could have been taboo enough to give any vampire a sour opinion of her. "Probably not the fallout from one of your clients, then. Hm..." She rubs her chin, and simmers on the thought.

"No double solitaire? Your loss. Then again, it was going to be your loss either way." It was, at the least, an attempt to appeal at Velour's love of card games. Even if she did choose her personal favorite, which happened to be the dullest one of all. "Sure. Invite over whoever you want." She would agree to any plans that ended with Velour keeping a low profile indoors for the night. "You can take a bite out of my food when it gets here if you really want to, but I think it's best we avoid a repeat of last time you tried to eat. Your stomach will thank you later." She pulls up her own phone, scrolling through a list of restaurants on the screen as though she was ever going to order from anywhere other than her two favorites.

It's a thoughtless gesture when she pulls down her turtleneck and scratches at the side of her neck. The last puncture had healed over nicely, just two little circles of discolored scar tissue.  She looks up from her screen, meeting Velour's gaze, and misses a beat. The memory of the last time was still fresh in her mind, a memory she kept skirting past whenever the subject of blood had come up in the past month or two. Her reply comes noticeably late. "... I stocked up the other day. If you want a bag, there's a few in the fridge."

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ​

—- There’s the smallest hint of pride

                 in the way Velour’s ears flicker up, her chin lifted and shoulders rolled back. For someone who should’ve died back in Italy, considering the blood that came pouring out of her neck and stuck to her hair, there’s an awful lot of heat building up in her cheeks each time Octavia so much as mentions the glory of her body. Her reality consists of Octavia fawning over Velour’s newly-discovered regenerative powers, clinging onto her arm while brushing strands of blue from her face. This reality ignores the actuality of the situation: Octavia voicing very valid concerns and asking the right kind of questions, questions that Velour brushes off with the kind of chutzpa fit for a fresh, naïve child of the night.

Nevertheless, she sighs and humors Octavia’s questions. “Uhh, I dunno? Pretty sure none of my clients ever had me unknowingly take out some Dracu-loony. Smells like a breach of contract withholding that kind of information…” She gently nudges the doctor’s cheek with her knuckles. “Don’t worry so much, though. I’m sure it was just some asshole who couldn’t stand the competition of another sexy, fresh Nosferatu in town.” Their eyes lock for a second too long in the silence that follows. Velour quickly blinks. “You know, we oughta celebrate! Considering you can, uh, add this to your notes, right?”

"Never had any weird requests from a client, like... kill this guy with a wooden stake? Wear a garlic necklace? I doubt the garlic rumor is real, though. That should be another test. Or maybe --" Dozens of questions swirl around in her mind, possibilities of who it could be, what they might want with her, the dangers that could be lurking around any corner if this was indeed a targeted attack, but the gentle touch of her knuckles against the hollow of her cheek has her re-evaluate. For someone who was just outright assaulted, had her skin clawed wide open, she was doing astonishingly well. Physically, she was in mint condition, and mentally...? Maybe, for her, it was a good thing not to be haunted by it. Octavia would harbor enough concern for the both of them.

They simmer in the silence for a long moment, lingering in the feline pupil of her undead friend, until the silence breaks. "You... want to celebrate?" Her eyebrows raise, and her lips part, but no words come out. Instead, her mouth falls into a flat line. Her chin rests on her knuckles, mulling it over in her brain, and finally, she gives a small nod. "It is a groundbreaking discovery... And a very pleasant one, for tending to your wounds with such urgency." Still, there's a glimmer of suspicion that shows through her glasses. "What did you have in mind? We could play double solitaire and order some takeout," She was not the fun party-goer in this friendship. She reconsiders her words, particularly the last part of her plans, and adds, "Everything that happened must have taken a lot of energy out of you. Are you feeling dehydrated?"

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍​

—- Her spirits are flying high,

              and Octavia’s concerns are but an afterthought to the thrill that’s still soaring through her body like a road-raging maniac. Velour takes another three drags from her cigarette, her cheeks still red from the excitement that comes with another new discovery to this body that keeps amazing the both of them. 

As such, her attitude seems flippant about the assailer. “Huh? Yeah, yeah, some other vampire-esque fuck with a stake up his ass– but look, that’s beside the point! It’s GONE! He got me RIGHT HERE–,” she frantically turns her arm to show Octavia exactly where his claws slashed into her, “–and it hurt like hell, god, it HURT, and still, it just SIZZLED away! By the time I got here, it was just gone!” And another three puffs before she puts the cigarette by the ashtray and hovers her fingers over where the doctor’s palm rests, right on her ruined tattoo. However, unlike Octavia, Velour ignores one crucial part about this entire discovery: someone attacked her out in the open. Their eyes meet and she can’t help but mirror the crease between the doctor’s brows. “What? Yeah! Of course! I mean, look at it! Not a scratch, HAH! I mean, I’ll have to do some touchups on the sleeve, which… sucks. But all in all, not bad, eh!”

"Another vampire? And not the one that turned you in the first place?" She blinks, incredulous that she was the only one demonstrating concern about that. The healed over wound that left her tattoo in ruins gets another rub of her palm, but nothing changes. It is as though the missing pieces were done intentionally by the artist. If she didn't see them this morning, she would have thought they were never there at all. 

"Velour, the fact that your body can do this at all.... I don't think you need me to tell you how incredible that is. This is, by far, the most fascinating biological discovery I have ever come across, but... Aren’t you a bit concerned that a fellow vampire attacked you? In public?" She stares at her, and takes a pause, letting the last two questions really sink in. Was the adrenaline so great that it just hadn't sunk in yet? "Do you have any clue on the reason why? Have you ever taken a contract against a vampire before?"

[destructiveglitch]

“romance is DEA–” the camera zooms in on two old butch women in real true love with each other.

ft @deathcraft ‘s Octavia………….

[deathcraft]

𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 ​/ @destructiveglitch

"Hold on a second. Let's slow down and go back to the beginning. Someone attacked you?" Of all the parts of the bizarre series of events Velour had described, that had to be the piece that was the most concerning. Velour's career choice came with the particular issue of having a lengthy list of people who wanted her head already, and with her recent life change that gave her bloodlust as a new vice, that list wasn't getting any smaller.

The doctor’s palms go to her arm, fingertips brushing over the skin where there should have been a lesion, redness, scar tissue, something - but instead, the only flaw to be found was the gaps in the lines of ink embedded in the skin. The wounds that tore into her arm earlier were nowhere to be found, only erasing bits of the design that was. New theories flood her mind, a maze of formulas and calculations to be made floating through her brain waves as she rubs her thumb against a newly formed patch of inkless skin. "How long did this take to heal over? Are you sure it doesn't hurt at all?" She meets her gaze, brows creased and lips curled downward, and her voice is genuine in her soft-spoken concern. "Velour. Are you alright?"

[lifeinpoetry]

I take out my throat / but the grief remains

— Alessandra Lynch, from “Couplets” Pretty Tripwire (via lifeinpoetry)

[deathcraft]

about halfway done with the g-doc and already having doubts on formatting like... am i supposed to make two separate g-docs for guidelines & muses instead? i was just going to put it all into one with clearly labeled sections. but then i need a separate world lore section to explain the universe it takes place in. is it too much to throw it all in one g-doc? do i need three whole ass g-docs? what is the norm for this sort of thing 😭 i only know of one other oc multi-muse and it’s my wife. . . .

[lifeinpoetry]

I crash like a bombed-out calamity / I am no good for anyone

— Sandra Simonds, from Atopia (via lifeinpoetry)