〖 CHACE CRAWFORD. CIS MAN. HE/HIM. ┇ that's MICHAEL, a ORIGINAL VAMPIRE that just blew out TWENTY-FOUR ( 1000+ ) candles on their last birthday cake. i heard them listening to VAMPIRE SMILE BY KYLA LA GRANGE the other day. rumor on the street is that HE sides with the VOLTURI in this time of war. fortunately they will be able to defend themselves with sound absorption .they remind me of WILTING RED ROSES ENGULFED BY FLAMES, THE SOUND OF THE WIND WHISTLING OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW AT NIGHT, CROOKED TALONS REACHING FROM THE BOTTOM OF A WELL, DROPS OF FRESH BLOOD ON PALE SNOW, THE COLD KISS OF A SCORNED LOVER.
tw: salty man is salty, blood, death, drowning, murder
Was turned way too long ago to keep track, his last human memory (although he’ll avidly deny it) is sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and slowly feeling his limbs going numb. Needless to say he’s been avoiding large bodies of water since, although he does know how to swim, he’d rather avoid those painful memories
Can’t cope very well with human emotions, but beneath his nonchalant exterior, he does feel things intensely. Michael doesn’t think emotions are weakness like a lot of his kin, but rather that’s what makes humans so intriguing. He’s very curious and although he’s long detached himself from humanity, he always finds himself gravitating towards it
Born to a wealthy family, Michael wasn’t always a monster --- he still remembers his days in the sun, laying down amidst the flowers with wild, guilless eyes aimed up at the heavens. If he were being honest, there are still days when he misses these days
Not a lot is known about him, it seems as though history has long forgotten the Androshchuk name and left him alone with the burden of carrying it---or Michael went through a lot of effort to bury it so deep nobody could ever find a shred of evidence he was, in fact, merely mortal one day too.
Was deeply in love with a witch over millennia ago, she was his first (and only) love till this day, or so he claims, until he found out she supposedly using him to achieve her own goals and (literally) got stabbed in the back and thrown overboard. He died in more ways than one that day, and vowed to get revenge on all her bloodline since he was revived
He did just that --- spent the next centuries hunting down and wiping off her surname from history, although he could never get his hands on her, he made sure all her descendants went through hell like he did that night
Has a very warped view of love since, and for a long time refused to ever trust anyone again. Then he found the Volturi which--- to his surprise, feel strangely familiar. It has never been about power to Michael, he’s always seen them as a strange kind of found family, and although his loyalties remain with himself, he’s found life is lonely when you walk its path alone, and he’d rather have them by his side
Mischievous and borderline cruel at times, Michael is volatile at best, and sadistic at worst. Easily persuaded and distractible, his attention-span is extremely fickle, think golfish. He’s interested in something one minute, and the next it’s been completely erased from his mind. He will grow bored easily if things take a predictable turn.
Extremly selfish and narrow-minded, he cares more about himself than he ever will anybody else. Ever since he was betrayed he refuses to emotionally open up to people and decided to become a pile of salt instead
Genuinely thinks he’s just that great tm , which doesn’t stop him from being an insecure mess when he catches feelings.
Absolutely refuses to be a useful member of the Volturi unless absolutely necessary. He’ll only waste his time if he thinks what is happening is genuinely serious and not another ego dispute.
Craves to be constantly surprised, regardless of how positively or negatively he is affected by it, of course, this sets unrealistic expectation, and causes him to constantly leave everything behind once he’s gotten close enough to figure out how that specific thing works and what makes it tick.
Accustomed to use his charm instead of brute force to get what he wants, Michael is known to have a high level of influence in others, not just humans but supernatural, and to be very charismatic, and partly due to his own personal belief that people will do much more out of love than fear and his chameleon like ability to project what people want to see.
On that note, as patient and calm as he appears, Michael is far from... as gentle as he portrays himself to be. If you’re looking for someone lenient to plead your case, things will most likely go south. Treacherous by nature, his cruelty doesn’t often manifest through loud shouting or unfiltered rage, but rather a more subtle, silent approach. Not unlike that of a cat that chases and tosses its wounded prey around without mercy for pure entertainment.
- the shade of the fine fruit betwixt nimble fingers become a distant topic of conversation. warm appraising gaze , beams velvety aqua sizing up boyish features & a small pang emits from within her chest. how sinful to be as pretty as he. “ oh .” an eruption of butterflies flutter her flustered stomach , turning back on her heel towards the table to hide the crimson that now glistens over the apples of pudgy cheeks. “ sweet is good alone , sour is best for pie. ” the words flow out in shallow breath , digging through the the cart until finally finding her three perfectly sized apples. sweet blues swept off to the side , peaking through feathery lashes , just to see if he was still there. he was. “ do you like pie? i love pie , and i make it real good too. ”
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a youthful , mischievous thing reels his mouth into a simper —– small at first , and less humble as it widens . what he is today can’t remember the warmth of sunlight pouring down from the clouds onto rosy cheek , but he imagines it lurks somewhere beneath that paper-skin of hers . a meek chortle tumbles down rosy lips , amused . ❛ hm . that so? ❜ head lolling to the side as to fully absorb the mirage of this ghost , back from the grave to haunt him , made flesh and bone , with a restless bird that rattles ceaselessly in its bony cage , begging to be set free . she doesn’t know it , couldn’t , shouldn’t , but her very existence is an act of repudiation from the universe , an endless taunt to this decaying heart of his . violence dwells in the unspoken ; all things he will not say , in invasive thoughts that rummage through his tortured mind . how lovely she is . hatred : he can almost taste it , red , hot , marinated in anguish . ❛ i don’t know ... i’ve never had any . ❜ admissions smooth down his tongue , and on whim , the pale sheet of his skeletal hand drapes over her own , gradually melting into the heat seeping from her pores . how tender , and utterly breakable she feels . ❛ can i try it? ❜
radiant pulse quickens , drumming fierce in the wake of her ears resonation as excitement blooms from the confines of flowered insides , today is a beautiful day. helios granted saturated rays of illuminescent golds & yellows that filled the wondrous blue skies —— the heat draped around her , encompassed her. warmth engulfed her & forged effervescence in her brain. mary janes thump against concrete as eager little steps split straight towards the mystic falls farmers market. oh , the arrays of color her eyes vastly consumes. a wheeze slips , lashes flutter in a small succession as she handles two apples within the palms of her hands , cryptid as she stares before edges of petal lips turn , beady eyes soft & yearning. “ hmm - green or red ? ”
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that duplicitous thing in his chest quivers with anticipation before ever catching a glimpse of her ; urges to be steadied , placated , soothed by the hands of time that’ve carelessly guided those wandering feet back into this same old crossroads . how easy would it be to sink those talons into the tender skin of her neck . each step is mirrored , a dance in the dark , latched onto her overcast shadow like a parasite , hovering , following , watching . just watching , trying to be sated by the mere thought of her , trying to be content to observing from afar . but when was that ever enough? she’s the first to violate this silent agreement , prompting an answer . michael scrunitizes from his peripheal , taking a minute to ponde ,; is it wrath or desire the monster which welcomes her home , back into the carvenous den of his heart ? ❛ hmm . that depends ... which one do you like best , sweet or sour ? ❜
autumn sat a table at the mystic grill, plate of fries and ketchup in front of her. she haphazardly dipped her fries in the ketchup before eating them, her brows furrowed as in thought. “ i’m new to mystic falls so i have to ask, is murder common around here ? four deaths in one night, that’s a pattern, not a coincidence. ” she looks up at the other person she sensed and half - smiles. “ you don’t think there’s a serial killer…right ? ”
apathy bleeds into shades of blue . this steely coldness that enshrouds him leaves no room for warmth to seep in ; it is hollow , leeching , a mimicry of humanity . it chews & swallows & spits out these frivolous acts of boyhood : gloved hand tucked under its arms , aimless gaze perusing about under sluggish lids , searching for something to pick apart , the overcast shadow is that of a skilled imitator towers above her small frame . ❛ — hmm? oh ... and wouldn’t you arriving just as the murders start also be seen as a very strange coincidence ? maybe you’re a serial killer . ❜ it muses , sheepishly . when you’re this old , life is full of irony . he’s chosen to embrace it . all jokes aside , there’s definetly something strange about this one . michael presses his flank to the wall next to her , ever so slightly bending his cheek into his ebony - clothed shoulder to inspect further . ❛ i’ll walk you home later , if you want ------ but only if you promise not to murder me , hm? ❜
