after the storm | philippe & open
Arashi was awake. Àngel survived his possession. Samuel was (almost) back to his original nagging self and Marcel hadn’t stained his Persian rug while nearly bleeding out in his suite. All was well, or at least better than it had been in a long while. He wasn’t torturing or being tortured by anyone, most of his (neighboring) enemies had been dealt with and those he loved were safe from harm for now. Philippe hadn’t felt as ease as he did then in weeks and after checking in on Àngel and Arashi, he headed outside the castle for a well-deserved walk in the sunlight.
Oymyakon was cold all year round, but Philippe never held a grudge against the cold. The frozen scenery was breathtakingly beautiful, mountains covered in a thick blanket of snow framing the picture, and if he had need for air, it’d have been his pleasure to give it away at the sight the gardens. There was green under his boots, fair, but present nonetheless, and the vampire wondered whether it was one of the castle’s many tricks, or the weather was still kinder at that time of the year. Regardless of the reason, Philippe was thankful there was more than shades of white to look at outside the castle.
He came to a stop at the sight of a pebble on his way. Reaching down, the vampire picked it up and, alongside a few more, he got back on his feet to throw them ahead one by one.
There was little aim to that childish game but the satisfaction of hitting something from far away. The first pebble dug a hole into a tree. The second, knocked all lemons down a lemon tree. The third — well, the third landed behind a bush and drew a sharp whine out of someone. Philippe let out a chuckle at the sound. “Bullseye”, the vampire whispered to himself, pleased, and despite his surprise.
gracieabrams
areudirty
amandla
blakekathryn
