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@symphonyofmalice
At-a-Glance
I have pages about the Mun, Muse, my tags, and rp rules. This is the tl;dr version. -This is a roleplay blog for Nicolas de Lenfent of the Vampire Chronicles! -I am an adult and will rp with other adults. This blog includes (tagged) NSFW and is not safe for minors -Common themes (hard to avoid even with tagging): Blood, injury, death, alcohol and substance use, abusive family, internalized homophobia, religion, trauma and mental illness.
Update
I've mentioned this to a few people in one-on-one conversations, but it makes sense to make it more public knowledge. I have been struggling to rp lately. I was sick for like a week, and while I am physically recovered now, it's still been hard to get back into the groove. (Also the special interest hammer has bonked me on the head and it's hard to think about anything that isn't with hat atelier right now). This blog is still alive and I hope to get to my 30 drafts soon but apologies to everyone that it's taking so long.
Lestat stood in the shadows watching Nicolas for a moment. He was so beautiful, he almost did want to wake him up. But when he called to him, waking him up he smirked a little. He knew it had been a while since the two of them have seen each other and that was Lestat's doing. But he was here now and he wanted nothing more than to see his lover.
" I'm here mon amour, I'm here. " Lestat said softly, still keeping himself in the shadows. "My beautiful violinist. I know I have been gone for some time now. But you never once left my mind." His voice was soft as he spoke.
Now he stepped out of the shadows and moved closer to Nicolas' bedside, moving his head to the side a bit. "I've missed you." His fingers slowly ran through Nicolas' hair. "MY beautiful boy."
----> @symphonyofmalice X
Those words were as true as can be, for if Lestat couldn’t talk to Nicolas then who could he talk to? Before coming back to Nicolas Lestat felt so alone. Because of what he was now he feared that Nicolas would want nothing to do with him anymore. That’s why he held off telling him, that’s why he travelled before coming back to Nicolas.
“ Niki… “ Lestat whispered as he looked off to the side trying to find the words for what he was now. “I’m dead.” He said then looked over at Nicolas with his fangs out. “I was turned into a blood thirst monster.” Now his voice was low as he spoke.
“ I had to stop making love to you because I could feel your veins pumping, your heart racing. It made me want to bite you and drink from you. But I sore to myself that I would never do that to you. “ Lestat looked at Nicolas for a long time then placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed it softly with his thumb.
"Dead?" Nicolas repeated. His expression in the darkness was befuddled, his voice lilting as if he expected to be laughing soon. As if Lestat was playing a prank on him, and would let Nicolas in on the joke at any moment, now. But Lestat's voice and face were so, so serious. And while he was a good actor- of course he was a good actor- Nicolas could usually see the tells if he was lying.
Nicolas' eyes widened at the sight of the fangs. They were like little crescent moons, white and curved and clear. He stopped moving, as if having seen a snake. "What...what happened?" Was this why Lestat had disappeared? Had he gotten involved in some kind of Satanic compact? "What does it mean?"
But when Nicolas' eyes met Lestat's, the tone in his voice was not fear, it was excitement. He was looking at Lestat the way ancient people must have looked at prophets and saints, as if there was a miracle before him. "Could you do it?" he asked, voice a whisper but full of naked desire. "Could you make me like you?"
Ah, there was the big question. Nicolas wasn't going to lie to her. "I will admit my coven mates are territorial as stray cats, too. They do not like to share the city with outsiders. You might be asked to leave Paris, but no more than that, unless you pose some greater danger to us."
Frankly, it all seemed rather pointless to Nicolas. Paris was a big city, it could sustain more vampires than the theater had. As for the other laws, how could Lucy really be a threat? Expose them to mortals- they advertised. And as for killing their own kind, well, the vampire with the highest body count was Armand himself. It was all hypocrisy.
But since it seemed like she'd be willing to leave anyway, there was no real loss. "One show, then. See if you like what we do here better than the plans of your maker who wishes you to have no friends."
"I have no roots in Paris," Lucy admitted, allowing him to know that she would have no issue in leaving should they ask. "I'm only traveling about -- doing the things that I could not when I was mortal."
With little thought, Lucy stepped forward and looped her arm about his own in the fashion that she'd walked with other companions, in a time when she had plenty of friends.
"Do you think I look the part of an opponent," Lucy asked as the Parisian winds fluttered her outdated dress. She wasn't one that held any desire for fights with anyone.
Nicolas felt relieved. It seemed like there would be no conflict, should Lucy be asked to leave. And she was coming along with him. That would look better to the rest of the troupe. Hopefully, they wouldn't fight him on the matter. They could get so opposed to his ideas, dismissing them as wild fancies, but he didn't see anything irrational in this particular case. Then again, he never did.
He accepted her arm, walking as a gentleman escorting a lady should. They could have been any pair of friends, strolling down the boulevards. "You don't" he admitted. "But looks can be deceiving, no? Look like th’ innocent flower, But be the serpent under ’t, as Shakespeare once wrote." It was part of their nature as vampires. They were death with a beautiful face. But still, Nicolas doubted he or the others had much to fear from Lucy. And Armand certainly didn't.
"So what have you been doing, that mortality had denied you?" he asked, curious about his new companion.
Setting up the area around him, Daniel pulled out a notebook, pen and his laptop. Then he pulled out a small mike and looked around for a moment. Now he was sitting down on the couch as he fixed his tinted glasses and let out a soft sigh, for he couldn't believe he was going through this once more. But like a good journalist he knew he had to get stories out there and if that meant another vampire wanting to talk to him well then, he was surely going to do it. Maybe he could even get another book out there.
" I am Daniel Molloy and today is 7:00 PM on Sunday April 6th, 2026. " Dainel then moved the mike to Nicolas and looked at him for a moment. "Please state your full name and how long you have been a vampire." He said while he looked over at Nicolas.
To be face to face with another vampire didn't bother Daniel since he was now one himself. But he wondered how many times he could sale these stories. He knew a little bit about Nicolas because of Armand and Lestat. But he wanted to hear things from his point of view, for he wondered if Lestat was the monster that Louis had painted him to be and because Nicolas knew him better than anyone else, he pounced on the interview.
----> @symphonyofmalice
“ Well that’s how Louis made it sound. Lestat said that he didn’t force him but you never know with those two. They are both liars if you ask me. “ Daniel said as he looked at Nicolas for a moment. Then he listened to his words carefully. He knew very little of the relationship between him and Armand, for Armand never really liked to bring up Nicolas or Lestat at that matter.
Daniel then took off his glasses allowing his deep orange eyes to look back at Nicolas. “I see. So you wanted it. You wanted to be what Lestat was?” He then looked through his notes. “Lestat spoke of you as if you were his greatest love. I wonder if you were to show yourself to him would he go running back to you or stay with Louis.” His voice was soft as he spoke.
“ I guess the bigger question is would you take him back? “ Daniel asked. “Or do you think that relationship is damaged to no repair?” He then leaned back a little in his seat. “Makers can be assholes, I think we both can agree on that, yes? But there seems to be a deep bound between a maker and their fledgling as I’m slowly learning.” A sigh then left his lips as he thought about Armand for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry go on I want to hear more about you.”
"Of course they are" Nicolas said casually. He didn't know Louis, he couldn't say which version was more likely to be accurate. He also hardly cared. "Every human being is dishonest, and every vampire all the more so. But I don't need to tell you that, do I? All men lie, said the playwright to the journalist."
Nicolas met Daniel's gaze. His eyes had been brown as a human. They still were, in a way. But vampirism had made them deeper, more like carved tourmaline or topaz. "Of course I wanted it. It was the answer to all my questions, it was the proof of all the things I had long believed. How could I not want it? How could he expect me to be satisfied to walk away, and live the rest of my life as a human, knowing there was more to the world but unable to be a part of it? Relegated to the madman ranting on the street corner? Surely you know the feeling." Nicolas did not know much about Daniel. But if he was a journalist that dug up the truth about vampires, he must not have been the type to let things go.
Nicolas snorted derisively. "Oh, I'm sure. I'm certain that as long as he thinks me dead, he can romanticize it all he likes. The perfect tragedy for him to weep over. If we were actually in the room together, with me as a person and not some story he tells himself, he would remember all he hated about me. He would remember exactly why he turned away from he in revulsion. No. I would not take him back. I'd prefer he still think me dead, though I imagine that ship might sail now that you know about me."
Nicolas sighed. "Fledglings and makers come to hate each other. That's the only guarantee I know of, the only certainty. If you don't despise your maker yet, you will. ...Is it true your maker is Armand?" Nicolas had heard the rumors. But it was still hard to believe. Armand had had no fledglings in centuries, it was a curiosity to know who had finally broken the streak.
There will come a time where he will hate his maker? No Daniel couldn’t see himself hating Armand. He had tried to hate him but they had a deep rooted past that no one could break, not even themselves. So to be told that he would hate him at some point Daniel didn’t believe that.
For a moment there was silence, for he wasn’t sure what to say. He wondered in Nicolas tapped into his head to fish out who his maker was. But then again he would have felt him fishing around, wouldn’t he? Either way Daniel looked down for a moment then back up at Nicolas.
“ Y- - - Yes Armand is my maker. “ Daniel said softly while he thought to himself. When he opened his mouth to speak he found himself defending Armand. “This isn’t about me but I feel I could never hate my maker. Sure he’s an asshole at times but…” The words were still so hard for him to say out loud since either of them ever spoke these words out loud.
Shaking his head Daniel went through his notepad looking through his notes. “Again this isn’t about me. It’s about you. This is YOUR interview not mine.”
Nicolas was hesitant to use the Mind Gift under any circumstances. Like most vampires, he had the gift for telepathy; and over the centuries, he had gotten better about using it. But it was still affected by his madness, still slipped out of his hands at times. The interview was already likely to stir thing sup, to make things harder. He kept his thoughts to himself, as much as he could.
"You've been his fledgling for what, a year? Less? Awfully early to be throwing around words like 'never'. Give it time. Lestat's first fledgling was his own mother, the only person who showed him any love as a child, and where is she now? Of course, you and I are in very different situations regarding Armand. You are the object of his obsession. My experience of him is as one of the things that got in the way."
But Daniel had a point. He would learn more about Armand with time, and then his tune might change. Maybe even some of the things he heard from Nicolas might shift those rose-colored glasses. There was no point in aguing about Armand now.
Nicolas sighed. "Fine. What exactly do you want to know? Shall we start at the beginning? I grew up in the same village as Lestat, in Auvergne. It was, as previously mentioned, a shithole. I knew Lestat, but we weren't particularly close. We ran in different circles. He was the youngest son of the Marquis, and therefore the lord of the land. My family had no titles. But, well, you'd see everyone in church on Sundays. I was the eldest of four, with two younger brothers and a sister, at least of those that survived past age three. My father was a successful draper, though he did tailoring as well. In a larger city, the draper would only sell the fabric, and you could get specialists- hatters and coatmakers and hosiers- making specific items. But in a smaller village like ours, a craftsman ended up doing a bit of everything. He was, I believe, fairly typical for the time. A strict disciplinarian with a tight fist around his own purse-strings."
Setting up the area around him, Daniel pulled out a notebook, pen and his laptop. Then he pulled out a small mike and looked around for a moment. Now he was sitting down on the couch as he fixed his tinted glasses and let out a soft sigh, for he couldn't believe he was going through this once more. But like a good journalist he knew he had to get stories out there and if that meant another vampire wanting to talk to him well then, he was surely going to do it. Maybe he could even get another book out there.
" I am Daniel Molloy and today is 7:00 PM on Sunday April 6th, 2026. " Dainel then moved the mike to Nicolas and looked at him for a moment. "Please state your full name and how long you have been a vampire." He said while he looked over at Nicolas.
To be face to face with another vampire didn't bother Daniel since he was now one himself. But he wondered how many times he could sale these stories. He knew a little bit about Nicolas because of Armand and Lestat. But he wanted to hear things from his point of view, for he wondered if Lestat was the monster that Louis had painted him to be and because Nicolas knew him better than anyone else, he pounced on the interview.
----> @symphonyofmalice
“ Well that’s how Louis made it sound. Lestat said that he didn’t force him but you never know with those two. They are both liars if you ask me. “ Daniel said as he looked at Nicolas for a moment. Then he listened to his words carefully. He knew very little of the relationship between him and Armand, for Armand never really liked to bring up Nicolas or Lestat at that matter.
Daniel then took off his glasses allowing his deep orange eyes to look back at Nicolas. “I see. So you wanted it. You wanted to be what Lestat was?” He then looked through his notes. “Lestat spoke of you as if you were his greatest love. I wonder if you were to show yourself to him would he go running back to you or stay with Louis.” His voice was soft as he spoke.
“ I guess the bigger question is would you take him back? “ Daniel asked. “Or do you think that relationship is damaged to no repair?” He then leaned back a little in his seat. “Makers can be assholes, I think we both can agree on that, yes? But there seems to be a deep bound between a maker and their fledgling as I’m slowly learning.” A sigh then left his lips as he thought about Armand for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry go on I want to hear more about you.”
"Of course they are" Nicolas said casually. He didn't know Louis, he couldn't say which version was more likely to be accurate. He also hardly cared. "Every human being is dishonest, and every vampire all the more so. But I don't need to tell you that, do I? All men lie, said the playwright to the journalist."
Nicolas met Daniel's gaze. His eyes had been brown as a human. They still were, in a way. But vampirism had made them deeper, more like carved tourmaline or topaz. "Of course I wanted it. It was the answer to all my questions, it was the proof of all the things I had long believed. How could I not want it? How could he expect me to be satisfied to walk away, and live the rest of my life as a human, knowing there was more to the world but unable to be a part of it? Relegated to the madman ranting on the street corner? Surely you know the feeling." Nicolas did not know much about Daniel. But if he was a journalist that dug up the truth about vampires, he must not have been the type to let things go.
Nicolas snorted derisively. "Oh, I'm sure. I'm certain that as long as he thinks me dead, he can romanticize it all he likes. The perfect tragedy for him to weep over. If we were actually in the room together, with me as a person and not some story he tells himself, he would remember all he hated about me. He would remember exactly why he turned away from he in revulsion. No. I would not take him back. I'd prefer he still think me dead, though I imagine that ship might sail now that you know about me."
Nicolas sighed. "Fledglings and makers come to hate each other. That's the only guarantee I know of, the only certainty. If you don't despise your maker yet, you will. ...Is it true your maker is Armand?" Nicolas had heard the rumors. But it was still hard to believe. Armand had had no fledglings in centuries, it was a curiosity to know who had finally broken the streak.
Your happiness is my concern, and you may be certain that in it I shall find my own❞ (newlyweds)
((𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙇𝙞𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙨)) @minaharkerdailymirror
"Truly?" Nicolas asked. Mina kept saying it. But believing her was still a challenge, a rug he expected to be pulled out from under his feet. He just didn't understand. He knew what pleasure he got from their arrangement, but... "What kind of happiness can it bring you? To lie alone in a bed at night, or watch your husband walk through the door, and know he has debased himself with someone else?"
"you and I do have such fun together," she told him, he was her companion and her best friend. he was her helpmeet til the end of their days. There were things she told him in whispers of their bedroom that she never told anyone. Her doubts on religion, her anger at God for taking her father and her siblings away. Mina had wanted siblings more than anything growing up. That's why she was so close to Lucy and her cousins. But God had denied her this thing, and then he'd taken her father away. WAs it all just to meet and marry Nicki? Couldn't there have been some better way for them to meet?
"We used to listen as our uncles sang it when they thought we were asleep," she whispered when they were done as if she knew he was curious where his innocent wife knew such verses.
Oh, she knew another one:
""AS I SAT at my spinning-wheel, A bonny lad there passed by, I kenned him round, and I liked him weel, Good faith he had a bonny eye...."
Nicolas had not heard this particular ballad before. He listened with rapt attention as Mina sang the first verse. By the second, he had a good idea of the melody. That was one of the things that made folk music easier- it tended to use the same melody for countless verses, with an occasional chorus, so once you knew one verse it was not hard to pick up the pattern of the rest.
He began to play along, letting the violin hold up Mina's voice like a pedestal under a work of art.
Music was so easy to lose himself in. Once Mina finished the Spinning Wheel, almost without pause, Nicolas began bowing a new tune.
"M’en revenant de la jolie Rochelle, M’en revenant de la jolie Rochelle, J’ai rencontré trois jolies demoiselles..."
Lestat stood in the shadows watching Nicolas for a moment. He was so beautiful, he almost did want to wake him up. But when he called to him, waking him up he smirked a little. He knew it had been a while since the two of them have seen each other and that was Lestat's doing. But he was here now and he wanted nothing more than to see his lover.
" I'm here mon amour, I'm here. " Lestat said softly, still keeping himself in the shadows. "My beautiful violinist. I know I have been gone for some time now. But you never once left my mind." His voice was soft as he spoke.
Now he stepped out of the shadows and moved closer to Nicolas' bedside, moving his head to the side a bit. "I've missed you." His fingers slowly ran through Nicolas' hair. "MY beautiful boy."
----> @symphonyofmalice X
Lestat knew Nicolas’s was going to have many questions for him like why was his skin so pale and cold now, honestly he wasn’t even sure how he was going to be able to answer the many questions that Nicolas was going to have without sounded crazy.
To put into words on who and what he was now was hard. Because as children they would hear stories of witches and demons in the night. But vampires? That was a whole other story. One they never really heard too much of. So, Lestat felt as if Nicolas would never believe him.
Nicolas noticed some of the odd changes in Lestat. How could he not? But he didn't see everything, didn't have the context to understand it. He had grown up with tales of werewolves and deals with the devil, he would have thought 'witchcraft' before thinking the word 'vampire'. And having Lestat in his bed was acting as a wonderful distraction from thinking anything at all.
Nicolas kept moaning as Lestat's mouth moved up and down his shaft. He could feel Lestat's own moans vibrating against the sensitive skin. He gasped, back arching, as Lestat's nails sank into his body. Yes, yes! He had the pent-up energy of many nights alone, his body was starved for touch and pleasure.
Nicolas made a groan of complaint when Lestat pulled away. "You tease-" he began to whine, playfully. But Lestat's voice was too serious. The way he held his own head spoke to a great distress. Mood dampened as if by a bucket of water, Nicolas sat up. "Lestat, what's wrong?"
He moved toward Lestat, his legs still tangled in the cheap, thin blanket. "What's going on?" he insisted, plaintive. "Talk to me, Lestat. Who can you talk to, if not to me?" Hadn't they discussed everything under the sun? Didn't they know each other better than anyone? Whatever Lestat was going through, Nicolas felt sure he could face it.
When her father disappeared, there was so much they had to wrap up. Her father had been seeing to some property for a frenchman in Auvergne and she, her mother and one of her uncles went to the town to find a way to wrap up proceedings.
They had been staying in the inn for a week when the town draper came to them. He had a son, he said, and he would be ever so interested in calling on young Miss Murray.
Her mother had been hesitant. She'd just lost her husband and she didn't want to lose her only child to this stifling small village. Her daughter wasn't in the right mind, you see. She just lost her father.
But Mina, who had been listening to the town gossip this past week, knew of the boy he was referring to. She'd heard he was at least well off, she'd heard other rumors about him as well that she'd rather not say. Mina was practical, the money would soon run out that her father had collected and they would be living on the charity of her uncles until she married.
She wasn't sure why she said she would allow him to call on her. Maybe she was curious at what would happen. Maybe she content to court and marry someone she didn't love so she wouldn't go through the same painful loss her mother did.
Or maybe they would get on, maybe she WOULD love him.
Mina stood next to her mother at teatime the next day, waiting for the Lenfents to enter the parlor. He was a handsome boy, with dark curly hair like hers and expressive eyes. Mina gave a small curtsey as she was introduced, "Monsieur."
@symphonyofmalice
Mina felt emboldened now as her husband agreed with her, "The pants you men wear do NOTHING to show a man's shapely thighs. I would have to guess before I brought him somewhere pirate on whether or not that was impressive as his calves."
When he told her she had striking eyes, she felt her face grow red, she didn't know why. She shouldn't blush at her husband who had no desire for her, or her proportions but when he said things like her eyes were striking, he made her feel beautiful.
"There are some proportions I would change," she admitted and looked down at her chest. She knew he had no opinion on such things but there was nothing impressive about her breasts and some women had so much luck in that.
"I like your curls," she told him, "The way they spring back when I tug on them. it's the sort of curls I wish I had. And I think....you have the most handsome smile. Not to mention your own proportions...it's quite the pleasant feeling to be held by you."
She listened to him talking and then shook her head, "But there's many kinds of happiness, Nicki. Of course there's the sort of happiness that is temporary....a child with candy, i suppose. But there's also the sort of happiness that is fulfilling and that's also what's best for you. If you plant something in the shade of a rotting tree, and the plant doesn't see the sun, and on top of that, you stomp on it....it won't grow. But if you nurture it, and remove the rotting tree so it sees the sun, it'll grow, it'll reach for the sun and thrive...and that's the sort of life I want for you. It's what I want for both of us. I can't be what you want, and that doesn't bother me. But...I do want to be the person you know you can rely on to stand by you and help you grow and reach for the sun."
It sounded silly now that she was saying it.
"There is no point to all of it if we're not trying to find some happiness."
"Riding gear does a better job of showing off the body" Nicolas commented. "In fact, in general, if it's a man with thighs and calves you're after, you'd do better with someone who rides horses. A hunter, a courier, a cavalryman. Staying upright on the damn beasts takes some muscle. More than you might think."
Lestat had well-developed legs for that reason. Not everyone owned a horse or knew how to ride it, and knowing to ride was not the same as doing it well or often. But for Lestat, hunting on horseback was what he and his family depended on for food. (And if Nicolas had to live with the Marquis, he expected he'd have wanted to spend all his time outdoors in the woods, too.) But now was not the time to think of Lestat, or his rear end.
He wasn't sure what to say regarding Mina's chest. He didn't have much of an opinion on the matter. And if she wanted her bust bigger, well, it was her body and her feelings. "If you had my curls, you'd get sick of them in a day, like Midas with the golden touch. They're a nuisance." He managed to tie them back, usually, but he couldn't get through twenty four hours without complaining about something.
As he listened to her treatise on happiness, he didn't disagree, per se. "But the kind of happiness you're describing, the fulfilling and nurturing kind...that's supposed to come from goodness. From God's presence, not good beer and bad company." By marrying Mina, he was cleaving closer to the 'right' path than he would have been if he'd run away, but it was all a bit of a charade, since Mina wasn't bringing him to virtue. "Besides, I admit I have not done much gardening myself. But as I recall, it involves a lot of pruning of unwanted branches. Or using sticks and strings to bind a plant and keep it growing in the right direction."
"Oh darling, I've ridden horses before, I know all about the muscles staying on one takes. I've been riding them since I was a child. In fact, between you and me, I wish I could be scandalous and dress like a man and just ride a horse all the way home and send our things ahead."
But it wasn't safe. Too many country roads with the possibility of highwaymen and if she and her mother were discovered.
"Your curls are much more manageable than my hair," she told him, "When we're home and you're styling it like you want to in the mornings, you'll see. You'll curse it as much as I do."
"There are bad habits we all have, even if we're growing with nurturing and goodness," she said, "A man can go out drinking if he likes, but he can still be a good man. He may stumble home late but he doesn't harm his family. It's merely a vice that he goes to church for."
"I shall be your gardener then," she said simply and flopped back "And you shall be the plant. I have already moved you away from the rotting tree. And I will move you further still. There's still work to do, I suppose. But...at least you no longer wake up wishing to ruin yourself to hurt those that kept you underfoot."
She was quiet, "You don't still, do you?"
he could've easily not wanted to when they married. Because the escape was there and she was so new. But they'd been traveling for days, and he'd seen her in her moods and she imagined the last leg would be the hardest because home was right THERE. But maybe he'd changed his mind and he was thinking about those things again
"Then you've probably ridden more than I have." Nicolas knew enough to keep upright on a horse. But they didn't own any and he didn't ride as frequently as someone like Lestat did. "That wouldn't bother me" he said, as Mina mentioned her fantasy of dressing in men's clothes and riding on her own. Between the two of them, wasn't what he was doing more scandalous? Who was he to judge? Of course, him being okay with it didn't make it safe for Mina to do. There were all kinds of mundane dangers between here and her home. And if she got caught cross-dressing, that would be it's own mess. Whatever Nicolas' sins, he could keep them behind closed doors.
She was probably right about her hair. His was tame enough to tie back easily. He let the potential argument die on the vine. Maybe, with him to help her in the mornings, her hair would be less of a nuisance to her.
He let out a laugh. "Is that what vices are for? So that we have something to confess in church?" He had the sense he could talk to her for years and still find interesting things about her peculiar worldview. And that was a good thing, because the theoretical years were stretching right ahead of them.
The amusement faded from his face at her question. He went still. "And what if I do?" he asked softly. The trip had been wonderful, despite all the discomfort of bumpy carriage rides. There had been such relief in knowing every moment was a step away from his old home. And he had been looking forward to Paris, and curious about London yet ahead. He hadn't thought about leaving Mina. He still liked her company too much to consider that. But he was not confident that self-destructive imp had been completely smothered in him. Wouldn't it be best for her to know that now, when they might still part ways?
"I don't want to leave you. But I still want to hurt them. I still feel spite toward them. Does that disturb you?"
PINNED + reverse (which is what I meant originally but hey why not both)
It's been awhile since the madness took. So long that Mina thinks that maybe he's overcome it. maybe her affection and love for him is enough and he's away from that place he called 'home' and is doing better.
But the darkness comes back, it always comes back and even though Mina saw it with the coven, it's different now that there's no coven, it's different now that she's only here by herself. She panics, like this is the first time she's beholden his anger and his madness. She comforts him at first, and then it turns to pleading, and then arguing. She pins him to the wall. Not hard, not like the coven did, but with enough force to keep him from going anywhere easily. He can overpower her, he's her maker and his blood is purer but she is the better fighter, "Nicki, stop this!"
There is a room in their home she's prepared and hoped she would never have to use. If she must, she will put him in there. It is not like the catacombs. She will not drain him to make him weak. She will not leave him in the darkness. It is a comfortable room, and Mina's determined to sit with him as long as she can in his madness so he's not alone and so he doesn't take the candles and burn the mansion down.
but it will be hard to move him if he puts up a fight.
@symphonyofmalice
"What sort of judgment could they possibly make with how you live your life?" she asked, "Even if they did know, they choose to live in fear instead of living in life. There's no privacy, there's constant rules. They've never taken the risk you did. what right would they have to stand in judgment of you?"
Mina tensed at the name 'Armand'. Mina never fucked with Armand back in the coven. there was something about him that terrified her. He'd kill her easily, and she always felt one misstep would put her in the vaults, "Darling, if Armand ever came for us, I would take you and run. I would never allow him to be near you again after what he put you through."
Mina didn't even want to think about fighting Armand. She knew how that'd go
"Whatever you think of them, their rules helped them survive for centuries. If not for you, I never would have made it past thirty. Can you really say they have nothing to judge me for? Right now, with everything that's happening?" If Mina was right, then he was even more of a mess- hallucinating, losing his mind, when there was nothing and no one out there.
Nicolas saw the tension in Mina but wasn't sure what it meant. That he had caught on to something, that Mina and Armand had some arrangement, that Armand was nearby, or just discomfort at the mention of his name? There were a thousand reasons to fear Armand and Nicolas was full of them. "If he hasn't come already. If he isn't watching us from a distance, watching us play-act our little domestic life, biding his time until the right moment to strike."
Mina could've sworn she turned off her alarm the morning that her class was cancelled but it still rang loud and shrill that pulled her out of a dead sleep.
Mina scrambled quickly, on instinct to turn her phone off and looked worriedly at her boyfriend next to her. She quickly checked her messages to make sure nothing had exploded while she was asleep and then lay back down in his arms, dressed in nothing but one of his shirts. Her legs tangled with his and she brushed her fingers down his side.
She'd met Nicki her first day in college and they just sort of stuck together after that first meeting. They'd been dating for awhile, Mina liked him, wanted to take him home to meet her parents. Was he the one? She couldn't say that, she couldn't say she was looking for 'the one'. But they were being young, they were having fun. She genuinely liked him. He was funny, and sarcastic, and loving, but sad. She knew enough about his home life that she was determined to keep him away from it.
"Sorry," she mumbled and slipped her hand around him, "Thought I turned it off."
@symphonyofmalice
"Of course good things," her mother said simply and smiled so warmly at him, "Look how handsome you are. A bit skinny though. We'll have to fix that."
Mina blushed brighter, "Mum!"
She knew it was going to be too much for Nicki. Just the forwardness and the warmth; things she brought from home in her own characater to show him now was surrounded by.
Mina dreaded the day he took her to his home to introduce her. She imagined it was like some mausoleum. But she would endure it, and behave and smile...because she loved him.
"Lets make some tea," Her father said and opened the door so they could come in, "We've not turned your room into a spa yet."
"You'd never get teh uncles out of the house," Mina said, "Please tell me they're not going to mob Nicki."
"Probably not for a night or two," Beth said, "But they're interested to meet your young man."
Mina looked at Nicki, "She means interrogate."
"They did the same to me," Mina's father said, "I did not pass."
"But I married him anyway," her mother said and looked at her father with such love in her eyes.
Mina's hand wandered to Nickis. She wanted what they had so badly.
Everyone was being so nice it felt like they must have been faking. Putting on a show to look good for him, even if he wasn't anyone that important. At a loss, Nicolas' brain was working overtime to find the euphemisms and buried criticisms in every nice statement. Did Mina's mother mean something by calling him skinny? Was it about his ability to provide? What did a spa have to do with anything?
It was almost a relief when the word 'interrogate' came into play. That he could understand. He wasn't looking forward to it, it would be a high-pressure situation. But it made sense Mina's uncles would want to give him the third degree to make sure he was good enough for Mina. He probably wasn't, but he'd try.
"You didn't pass?" Nicolas asked. It was probably too personal a question, and he shouldn't have asked it. But it had just slipped out in his surprise. What was the point of testing someone if failing didn't mean you got kicked out?
"Lestat" Nicolas sneered dismissively. There was no mistaking the absolute contempt in his expression. All the better that she hadn't met him. He was a vain, oblivious ass at the best of times, and if he had gone on about his history she might have gotten a very skewed idea of Nicolas himself. If Lestat even thought about him at all, these days.
Nicolas was curious about sea witches and bad deals. But he assumed Ariel had given all the detail she felt comfortable with, to a near stranger. "May I ask what was making you unhappy?"
"My father is the sea king and he forbid all merkind from coming to shore," Ariel explained. "Rules and the youngest princess don't truly sit well together, as you can imagine."
She felt no reason to lie about who she was, not with a fellow "supernatural" being.
"I was always so in love with watching humans. I felt in my heart that I didn't belong in the sea. I was ... odd. I had a whole grotto filled with the human things I found in sunken ships and on the ocean floor." A pause. "Until my father destroyed it, at least."
Kings, witches, kingdoms. It seemed there was entire world under the waves, with nobody the wiser. Perhaps Nicolas should not have been surprised. After all, humans lived with vampires right under their noses while completely ignorant, and merfolk had the unexplored depths of the sea to themselves.
"I can imagine" he agreed. "I was an eldest son, but I think I grasp the principal feeling." He hadn't been royalty- for all that his father wanted him adjacent to aristocracy. But he could well understand the pressure of expectations, and the inevitable break.
"And what's so admirable about humans?" Nicolas asked, unable to keep his natural cynicism in check. He was sure plenty of blood, filth and trash made it's way to the oceans. But perhaps Ariel had been spared knowledge of humanity's worst crimes and vices. But he frowned at her last sentence, expression suddenly uncomfortable. It didn't matter how hopeless he thought humanity was. He could understand, deep in his heart, what it felt like to have the one thing that brought you any joy or interest, smashed to pieces by a father that hated it.
"Such is the nature of fathers, in my experience" he said. "You are glad, I imagine, to be away from him on land, then." Was it all that different from how he had run away to Paris? She had just gone much, much further.
The Hunt ft Nicolas @symphonyofmalice
It had been a long night, far too long. He had been tracking the scent of what appeared to be a vampire for a few days now. Whatever the creature was absolutely appeared to be on a rampage. A lot of people had been found drained of their blood in the back of alleyways. It was his job to take care of those things that went out of control under the cloak of darkness.
He tracked the scent exactly where he suspected, an alleyway that was darkened from the world. He could hear the sound of feeding, wrinkling his nose up in disgust. "Come on, Vampire. Your time terrorizing this city is over. Either we can do this the easy way..."
"It's the least you owe me, after interrupting my other fun for the night" Nicolas replied. If he couldn't let this blaze in him burn out in blood in the streets, he'd find other outlets. The heard the promise in Darren's words and it excited him. They were both preternatural creatures. Whatever happened in this hotel room tonight, it would be the stuff of legends. Horror stories, after all, were the natural habitat of vampires and hellhounds.
He smiled as Darren showed off for him. Yes, he did quite like what he was seeing. But the mood was soured almost instantly, like a wrong note played in a symphony. "Not Nicky" he said, voice suddenly hard with no trace of joking or flirtation. 'Nicki' had been Lestat's pet name, and still stung like broken glass and cold winds. "Make up any other nickname you like. Call me vampire if you can't think of anything else. But not Nicki." He'd even accept some degrading title before that particular nickname.
He tried to recapture the light of their earlier banter. "But please. Do keep walking. I'm getting quite a show."
@breannasewell for Ethan
Nicolas was doing rather well, all things considered. Being invited to play at an aristocratic ball was a step up in class than the seedy little rattrap that Renaud's theater had been. Luxury was evident in every inch of the place- the carpets, the curtains, the lights, the artwork. He had not met the other three musicians who would be forming the string quartet before, but they were professionals- as long as everyone did their job, there would be no real trouble. Nicolas was here to play as rich people waltzed, not make a name for himself as a solo performer. Still, the pay would be good, and getting regular jobs like this would leave him comfortable enough. Nicolas wondered, idly, if these English aristocrats had any fear in them after what happened to their French counterparts. But it didn't really matter.
With winter making nightfall early, the ball was happening after sunset, which was lucky. He didn't need to make excuses for his nocturnal nature. He had used make-up to cover the marble-like quality of his skin, but it couldn't mask the supernaturally heightened perfection of his features. He had entertained notions of making deliberate mistakes, to sound more naturally human. But, at the end of it all, he couldn't bring himself to play any less than his best. He loved the violin too much for that. So, while he didn't play faster or harder than a human could- there was no need for that, when there was a time to keep for the dancing guests- his every note was impeccably timed, and crystal clear. He made the violin sing for him as if it was a natural extension of his body.
Nicolas took in the small room. Private, out of the way, quiet. Yes, he could see why Ethan favored this place for these kinds of secret encounters. He shrugged out of his jacket, but left his clothes generally on, wanting to focus on his host. Nicolas himself had brown hair and eyes. His curls were tied back with a bit of silk ribbon. His limbs were average, maybe a bit thin. But it was his long fingers that showed years and years of delicate work, and he couldn't blame Ethan for noticing them.
"Oh, please, do be honest with me" he said. "There is nothing that pleases me more than to see a man indulging his deepest desires. Giving voice to all he has always wanted but could never say." Nicolas liked playing the pied piper, the tempter, the bad influence that led good men astray. "As you wish. I will play you like the violin."
"Poison?" Nicolas raised an eyebrow and tried not to chuckle. Well, that was a more entertaining lie than most. And this strange young man said it with the steadiness of either an experienced con-artist, or a madman who believed the truth of his own words. It didn't change what Nicolas needed to do.
"How am I to resist the temptation of finding out? I will just have to risk it." He tightened his grip on the intruder, leaning in to go for a bite on the neck.
"Go for it," Damien dared the vampire. He made no attempt to wiggle free of the vampire's grasp. Instead, he stood there as steady as an oak, waiting for the piercing fangs to cut through his skin.
Damien wasn't scared. He'd never felt true fear. The last that he could recall was when Mr. Thorn had taken him to the church to end his life at the tender age of five. That had been the first and last time that he recalled feeling true fear.
"Hope it's worth the risk... I fear you'll get sick, though."
Go for it? Maybe Nicolas had been wrong. Maybe this man was the type who fell in love with the romanticized idea of being eaten alive. The contradiction was odd, the way he insisted his blood must be poison, offered it anyway, and was the same exact blithe calm regardless. Well, it had to happen anyway, to protect the theater and its secrets. So if the idiot was obliging, all the better. He ignored the stranger's words and went for a bite. His fangs sank in to the supple flesh of the throat.
In seconds, Nicolas pulled away as if burned. He had barely gotten a glimpse of anything at all before his body violently rejected the blood on his tongue. He had not thrown up since becoming a vampire- the only thing that brought on that kind of revulsion was food, which he therefore never even tried to eat. But he retched now, body hunched, blood staining the floor, his chest heaving until every last drop was out and then some.
Once it was over, he looked up at the intruder with new awe. "Are you really...?" He had been telling the truth about his blood being poison to vampires. But to believe that he was the child of a true demon was something greater. "What are you?" If he wasn't human, it didn't matter that he knew about vampires. But that felt like the least of Nicolas' concerns for the moment. If he had come to attack the theater...
"Sure thing. Sorry I couldn't help more." Nicolas kept up the facade of politeness until Chloe left and he could close the door. Damn. He should have been more careful. His thoughts were stinging like a swarm of bees with all the stupid mistakes he made, all the things he should have done to prevent this. Well, now he had to deal with it. He needed to get out.
Unfortunately, morning was too close to achieve much. And unlike his collegiate neighbors, he couldn't pull an all-nighter with caffeine and willpower. Once the sun was up, he was out in his coffin, no matter how much the extra time would have helped. Waking at nightfall, he began packing. He theoretically could have just taken his violin and walked out. He was fine leaving the furniture behind. But rebuilding everything from scratch was difficult. He wanted to take his clothes with him, and some personal items. And the coffin would be a nuisance...
Thirst began to nag at him. Except for the recent mistake, he hadn't been killing- only taking little drinks from the local youth. But drinking less meant drinking more often. Draining someone dry two nights ago had given him a boost that could only last so long.
He couldn't return to the same club he'd picked up Rodney at, of course. But it was a college town. There were bars, pubs, taverns and clubs every ten feet. He'd have someone who'd had a few beers, soothe his nerves, and figure all this out. With that plan in mind, Nicolas threw on clean clothes- sticking to the unobtrusive jeans-and-t-shirts theme- and headed downtown.
Mind kept returning to that little oddball. Los Angeles was full of oddballs, but that Nicolas Valois had struck something within her. Chloe Decker wasn't sure what it was and she wished Lucifer was here to help her sort out what she was feeling in regards to that peculiar character.
But he wasn't.
This case was too boring. LUX had more interest for him right now. With her anger at him for bailing, she refused to reach out to him. She was being prideful, but she was angry at him.
With an idea to investigate, Chloe slipped on a dress. While Dan had always been marked as a cop, Chloe could easily disappear into a proper LA Party Girl persona. She'd save LUX for last. Nicolas didn't strike her as someone that would attend that sort of establishment, but she'd make sure to pop in just to ask some questions to the staff.
Los Angeles was a big city, which made it easier to disappear into. It meant that, even with tending toward gay-friendly establishments, there were enough places for Nicolas to go that he could shop around without being immediately recognized by the locals. He began in one of those old-school taverns that liked to pretend it had been lifted, brick-by-brick, directly from old Ireland. Buying a guy a few beers and an hour's conversation led to making out in the alley behind the pub, teeth grazing the guy's tongue for the first proper drink of the night.
The encounter left Nicolas pleasantly buzzed, but he'd need more than that. He made his way across town, looking for another club to hit up. Maybe something completely different, a modern bar with glass walls and bright lights. The blood-and-booze in his system made him feel warmer, more relaxed. But he wanted more...
Picking a place almost at random, he walked right past a gaggle of party girls on his way to the bar, where he ordered an unholy concoction in neon colors.
continued || @symphonyofmalice
Winnie whimpered at the feel of the snare digging deeper into her ankle. A thin line of blood oozed from the open wound as she watched the vampire moving closer to her leg.
Sibella had never attacked her whenever blood was in the picture, but she and Sibella had a deep friendship. There was an uncertainty on what this vampire would do around blood, but the young werewolf really had no choice in the matter if she wished to be set free of the trap.
Body was naked, but she gave no thought to that. She was covered in dirt and blood -- not even remotely close to anything sexy. She was feral, hair a mess and smeared in shed blood from the change.
"I'm usually way more careful than this. I feel really stupid."
Nicolas had fed recently enough. The blood was only a mild temptation, more for it's novelty than anything. He had met a wolf-man before, but had never tasted one. And it seemed like tonight wouldn't be the night for that either.
"I have yet to meet any creature on this earth immune to stupidity" Nicolas said plainly as he began to work on the snare. "I'm sorry" he murmured as he worked. He was sure it hurt to have a snare pulled out of her leg, but the wolf woman was doing an admirable job of sitting still.
"Do you have a name?" he asked, more to distract her than anything.
