... Hopefully this letter finds you well.
Your beloved mentor, Asra



#interview with the vampire#iwtv#the vampire armand#assad zaman


seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Indonesia

seen from Germany
seen from Japan

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany

seen from Canada

seen from Türkiye

seen from Chile
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
... Hopefully this letter finds you well.
Your beloved mentor, Asra
AKISSE CHAMOUN :: mojavia Arcana apprentices [1/?]
coloring experiment w/ akisse
she’ll blow you a kiss if you’re lucky it’s 5 am but i’m fucking thriving so here’s art of akisse and my sorry attempt at replicating the official art style
i don’t think i ever posted this, i know i added it to the original art of her but here you go anyway because i love her a lot
Arcana apprentice {1/?} | Akisse
Please do not remove caption!
my arcana apprentice’s masquerade outfit!
tbh i keep forgetting to add detail to the eyes but i’m dead inside, pls cut me some slack if she looks dead inside too
She misses what she cannot remember.
It always starts as a soft ache in her heart that creeps up on her when she is halfway between consciousness and slumber, and it swells until it strangles her in her sleep and she sits up with starlit teartracks and a grip on her chest that she cannot explain. Her dreams are heavy with flames and smoke but also light with gossamer gowns and strange masks; unfamiliar, yet the smell of sea salt is unmistakable.
He misses what she cannot remember.
Late nights with the candles burning low, white smoke from burnt sage misting up the air, the sound of bare feet on the floor and jingling anklets and her laughter; afternoon walks up near the aqueducts where they always found more paths to explore, more hidden wild gardens to sample, and more sun-spotted clearings to lie in; the most anticipated evening of the year, crystal chandeliers floating high above the masked partygoers, the stars on her dress scintillating whenever she refuses to dance with anyone but him.
Now no one dances, no one wanders, no one holds masquerades for witches and apprentices to fall in love at anymore.
She always thinks that he is asleep when she wakes up at night, wiping away tears that she cannot understand, and she is always surprised when he rises silently and engulfs her in his arms and whispers beautiful somethings in her ear.
For how long will he stay with me, she wonders.
For as long as you need me, he always answers.
He plants a tea-scented kiss on her forehead before he whisks her to the roof. The city stretches out before them with winking streetlamps and cricketsong. He has been many places and seen many sights, but none are as lovely as the dewy teardrops shimmering on her lashes as she struggles to stay awake in his arms. They sit among stars and satin pillows until her chest rises and falls like the ebbing of the waves on Vesuvia’s shores.