#act iv.

[vampien]

start quote:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you saved my life back there.

she brings a lit cigarette up to her lips, taking an inhale to bite back the long winded and uncanny sigh that would've fallen through her teeth instead.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ this game of theirs intrigues her, maybe from the perspective of an outsider, someone who cares for armand‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎or maybe because she can see an endgame from miles away, slipping in and out of @dm0ll0y's mind.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎this, she is sure, that the wish of the boy is different from the wish of ancient vampire‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(one of the closest things she has ever had to a friend outside of her own husband).

there's a sharp narrowing of her gaze, yet without a blink, as she dances over his features.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎perhaps a tinge of jealousy dances behind her eyes, wondering what the excitement truly feels like pumping through his veins, but she swallows it down, bringing two fingers up to pull the cigarette from her red stained lips.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a quick blow into the cold air slips smoke right past his ear, and with it, comes a small hum from her chest.

" yes i did. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her voice is like a song, carrying with it a natural harmony that pulls even the most hesitant in‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎at least daniel is wracked with curiosity, or so she believes it to be, so much so that it might kill him before armand would even get the chance to‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" daniel you may feel untouchable but you're not, your body isn't, and humans can do just as much damage as our kind can. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she begins to walk then, one leg crossing in front of the other with a click on concrete, with it too comes the turn of her head over her shoulder, a brow raised indicating: follow.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" let's go get you something to eat before you collapse. "

[sleepydrummer]

'Tis the time’s plague when madmen lead the blind.

William Shakespeare, King Lear

[vampien]

start quote:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎don't touch anything.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i mean it.

the comment allows the corner of her lip to twitch momentarily, @dustandrot's tone slipping into the air with a hint of what one may call threatening‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's comical, yet she doesn't laugh‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(performing is over, she doesn't owe it to him nor anyone to tiptoe around humanity anymore).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎slowly, the tip of her finger drags around the lip of the dining table, passing by the computer, the microphone, the notepad with scribbles in the corner.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" of course. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and yet she's only centimeters away, snapping up her violet gaze to catch daniel's before flicking her wrist back to her side.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" you're taking this very seriously‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎... "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's a pause, and her brows furrow.

" it's foolish.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎on your part and louis's but he's a lost cause so– "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎when she tilts her head, she looks him up and down, pressing the small of her back against the glossed wood, and when she does so, it looks like as if she's carved from marble, a frozen piece of timing staring at a ticking clock that is: daniel m.olloy.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" they're going to come after him, probably you as well. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's spoken so casually, spilling from rouge lips with her first complete smile toward the other.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" but that's not what i care about, couldn't care less in fact. "

[vampien]

(@survivores),‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎l.estat said:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" am i really so horrible that you don't recognize me? "

perhaps i should've said something, rather than just stare at the other monster before me as if i had to recall from a shrouded place in my mind what he once was.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎if he had been deserving of such kindness, perhaps‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎yet in front of me was a contradiction of emotions, a contradiction of memories.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i could see us, my family and his, enjoying the new orleans nights side by side in dramatic fashion‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(his elegance and my own perfectly pairing alongside the quiet and thoughtful conversations of louis and––)‎,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but i also see behind his tired eyes that seem as though they have been open without even a sliver of sleep, the very man claudia loathed, the very man claudia ran from‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and finally, maybe most unfortunately, i saw a version of myself, someone who could understand the way my chest felt like caving inward anytime i thought of him, of my love.

" yes. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎not the kindest answer, but it was the one that he most deserved, at least in my own mind.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎his disheveled appearance hardly carried anywhere close to the aura he had about him back when i knew the vampire, back when i didn't look to him with a venom on my tongue, ready to spit‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎back when maybe i even appreciated his friendship.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" you look terrible. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i let the words hang in the air, for my own enjoyment and for the chance to make him feel small, as i had been craving for years, but only for a few seconds.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎desperation then sank in, and the reality of my outreach had landed heavily on my chest.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no one understood, not louis, not armand‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎no one, as if i had anyone else to call upon but him, the poor shell in front of me.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" i'm not here just to insult you‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎louis told me about nicki, and i‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎... "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i paused then, and i could feel it:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎my brows sinking to the middle of my face and my lower lip trembling, the words coming next only just a whisper, as if i couldn't bear to hear them myself.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" christian is dead. "

[vampien]

start quote:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you don't plan on coming back, do you?

her head tilts at the question, face unchanging but mind sinking deeper into thought.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it poses, whether @satellitewar means it to or not, a deep personal reflection, as her eyes gaze over the bodies that move at a pace just too slow for her own entertainment.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎rarely has she gone to the same place twice‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(paris itself existing outside those barriers, tied by string to the very veins inside of her:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎a part of her as much as she is a part of it),‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎consider it a part of her own safety, her own protection‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's easier to keep everything at just an arms length, float above it like some sort of ethereal beauty that everyone stares at as she passes.

" hm. "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she hums vaguely, turning her neck so buzzy sits just inside her vision.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it seems he knows, or understands, or sees that disconnection that is a part of her, innate in the life of the immortal and unaging.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it makes the corner of her lip twitch upward.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" probably not.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it's lovely, of course, but‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎seen it, done it, no? "

[vampien]

start quote:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎please don't be angry.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎i couldn't take it if you were angry at me, too.

her eyes stare unblinking, all facades falling down like the curtain at a show‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎they are behind the scenes, without need to be human, undeserving of even make pretend breathing that would inch two monsters nearer to humanity‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎and yet @lamourstre's pleas seem to tiptoe around a feeling that is so starkly human‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(over a hundred years ago she was caught with a begging of her own, except in those days she was completely breathing, pumping full of her own source of life).

perhaps an anger slips up into the way her tongue flicks into the inside of her cheek, the only movement offered beyond the thoughts in her head that run in circles‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(purposefully blocking him out:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she pictures her hands ripping his head from his body, tearing his throat out vein by vein like a stripped machine, or, and the worst to her, a human girl screaming at him for some explanation‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎...‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎tears streaming down her face in clear liquid, that meaning, it's all just a vision).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎but times have been cruel, and only ten years of loneliness seems worse than the twenty-nine years she spent before just waiting for christian.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her anger towards him has only grown exhausting, her frustrations have only grown pitiful.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎once, back then too in the years of her own humanity, she had a vision that maybe he truly saw her, and now she worries he always has.

[ are you asking me, truly asking me? ]‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her voice reaches without parting lips, as if she's frozen physically still and relying only on what little energy she is consisting of‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(even feeds only bring a dull pink instead of a flushed rouge to her cheeks).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎[ isn't it what you deserve? ]‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎suddenly yet slowly, a contradiction that exists like herself, her head tilts to the side, and red lips part:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" he wants you, daniel does, you know that.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he's looking for you, hoping to find you again. "

[vampien]

start quote:‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎listen here.

there's a quick flip of crimson over her shoulder, red hair flying back to cascade down the chair she's sat comfortably on.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎each movement comes across enchanting, as if it is her natural state is slightly above the world beneath her‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(a hovering, a haunting, something unnatural).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎finally, as her leg crosses over the other, with toe pointed down into heels that would cost many their entire mortgage and more, she's still as a statue, something that would shock one if they saw her in the corner of their eye.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" i am, i am, go ahead, but you know i'm not looking for representation, right @survivalthing? "

[vampien]

[ if it's not one thing, it is another with people, isn't it? ]‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her thoughts betray her, frustrate her, in a moment of narrowed gaze at @05251981.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there's a grace and glory in her age, in the unique ability to exist across time‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎––-‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she is forever a watcher, able to see how society slips and develops in ebs and flows.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎this: creations like the girl before her, may perhaps be of the lowest she's seen.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it is not the girl that seeps beneath her cold skin, but the idea of the scientific creation of something just outside the reaches of normality, then becoming normality itself.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎perhaps there's nothing much left in her, nothing she can hold onto anymore, but each day must go by‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎(and how antithetical to her grandiose existence would dying in a hole as she starved, giving up).‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎" you look tired, poor girl.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎does it take a lot out of you? "‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎,‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sc.