#convo:antony

[oneiroixnemesis]

@antonylcts​

Nemesis didn’t really know many vampires, there was one that came to mind but their relationship was... tentative, at best. Their last interaction, that Nemesis could recall, had soured quickly when Antony had learned the truth behind why the vampire had hunted so many members of the Catholic church in the twelfth century. It was a shame, Ezio was certain that the pair of them had gotten along famously, it was this faint hope that had led the spirit to seeking out the vampire once more. It seemed unsafe to seek Antony out in the open, the creatures of the night were volatile... at best, and this one felt especially unpredictable. With a simple but familiar spell, they found Antony’s dreamscape once more and colored it in their favor. The scene was Jerusalem, as the pair of them had witnessed it once with their own eyes, this time Antony cut through crusader after crusader, each a construct of the oneiroi’s own as they observed from a distance.

The last crusader fell and Ezio stepped around the corner and kicked one of the stupidly dressed Crusaders. “You’re so strong Antony,” Ezio mused, they didn’t need to reveal themselves, they could have made the vampire think that helping the spirit was their own idea, but they wanted to play it a little differently this time. Maybe somewhere the oneiroi felt bad for their early manipulations of the vampire, but they did not show as much on the surface. Besides, they wanted something from the man. Answers. And Antony was the oldest vampire they knew. “ Impressive as always.”

[markusxcamlann]

@antonylcts​

Markus could feel the telling press of a genasi’s curse, the magic he was afforded now gave him a uniquely familiar insight to the dark magic that had been levied against him. If the former vampire had to guess, this was an act of retribution by Safiye, the owner of Pandora’s Lore that he had kidnapped in the name of the Cult of Persephone. Since his encounter with Patroclus he had avoided returning to the hotel, Safiye’s first curse had fallen on him quickly - an overbearing and uncontrollable sensory overload. Followed quickly by his own personal eidolon that remained shackled at his side. Unable to stay within the city, Markus instead retreated into the wilderness, found an abandoned hovel that would have, at one time, been the home of a witch and aimed to contemplate his next move. 

His dearly departed father for company.

The man sat on the floor within the fallen log, remnants of forgotten magic littered the walls about him, Markus had not yet tested the meagre amount of power that had been restored to him. It still felt... Distant, uncertain. Truly, Markus had been a genasi for far longer than he had been a witch. Yet, subconsciously, his misery had drawn the attention of some of the forest creatures. Birds had landed about him, a stray dog whined outside the hovel’s dilapidated door as if they were also awaiting the cultist’s decision. 

“I figured you would find me here.” Markus lamented as he drew his eyes towards his brother’s frame, he was certain that Antony would have been jumping for joy at the sight. Next to him stood the eidolon that Safiye had saddled him with, their father, positively beaming from ear to ear while the forest screamed in Markus’ senses. He could still hear the city, but it was distant, Antony’s footsteps had alerted the witch to his approach, yet Markus had made no attempt to leave. 

Distantly, Markus recalled the sight of Antony’s mutilated corpse, how Lancelot had disemboweled him and Arthur had left him to rot. The genasi had gone to great lengths to return his brother to life, but how many lifetimes had passed between them now? Of all the things time took, it was the things that time left behind that left the deepest scars. 

“Congratulations.” Markus stated miserably, “You might actually be able to kill me now.”

[emrexbasak]

@antonylcts​

tw: violence

Emre had a very specific job, he was a bartender at the only place in town that catered to the needs of vampires. But, it would not due to allow those who offered themselves to the vrykolakas to die after a few simple feedings. It was inevitable, sure, that was why Emre had found himself here to start with, some poor soul who didn’t know when to stop had given too freely, and the vampire on the receiving end had been too greedy to stop. 

The reaper appeared in the backroom now, a simple affectation of his own ability to teleport had him leaned against the wall next to where the striking vampire had taken more than his fill. Clearly he was hungry. “That’s enough, time’s up.” Emre deadpanned, he could feel the quiet ebbing of the other’s soul as it inched towards oblivion, truly, he did not care either way, but the psychotic witch who owned this bar claimed to have a reputation to uphold. The reaper’s blood held no appeal the vampires, neither were the vrykolakas able to kill them by any conventional means, which made Emre well suited for this job. “I said,” the reaper wrenched the wobbly kneed human free, “enough.” 

[oneiroixnemesis]

@antonylcts​

“C’mon, let me out of here.” Cole whispered, their voice eager through the bars as they kept their eyes fixed on the familiar features of the vampire they had come to know better than most, once upon a time. It was a familiar story, bitter baby brother turned even more bitter when he was turned into a vampire. Turned bloody and murderous at a few simple suggestions after the spirit had messed around in Antony’s head. They were still young then, still learning, the spirit was regretting revealing themselves to the vampire now on the beach, hopefully Antony didn’t hold a grudge. There was something of a solacious smirk upon the spirit’s face as they did, “I know something you don’t know -” Cole whispered, “your future, your fate, a cure for your.” Cole tapped their teeth, “Little problem. You let me out of here, and it’s yours, everything you’ve ever wanted.” The longer they were cut off from their magic, the more human they felt. They stubbed their toe earlier, and that was not fun. 

[oneiroixnemesis]

@antonylcts​

Ezio wandered to an old, familiar stretch of beach, the break of early dawn had just passed over the horizon and the soft glow of an early morning summer sun stretched across the cool sand. The spirit of dreams walked barefoot along the water until they saw their vacant destination ahead, nothing more than a simple log that washed up with the tide after a storm over a decade prior, it was far enough from the city that one might be alone, but close enough that the distant thrum of life could still be heard. Above the oneiroi seabirds called out while Ezio set upon the log and pulled out their notebook, they scratched easily the story that had come to them previously, they had something of an obsession with the lives of the people of Corinth Bay. They were more amusing than anything, but there was real inspiration there, real envy too. The spirit did not know what it was to find others like them, to age, to grow old, to feel pain. Their fate was a lonely one, so instead, they wrote. 

Their senses acute, Ezio brought their eyes from the pages before them. “It’s a bit early in the day for a vampire to be skulking the beach, isn’t it? Or is it late?” 

[markusxcamlann]

@antonylcts​

“Good work, brother.” Markus commented dryly, his gaze a hardened steel upon the cell of rounded up individuals. Some faces familiar, others, less so. It mattered not, their fates were all destined to be relatively the same. The older of the two brothers had no reservations of what was to be done, there was a single face within the crowd that perhaps caused the vampire to pause, but in the face of his mission, she was little more than another casualty at war. Their purpose was greater than a single life, greater even than himself, and Markus was pretty great. “War has many faces,” the vampire offered, “you aren’t having any reservations, are you?”

[markusxcamlann]

@antonylcts​

tw:guns

Over a thousand years had passed between the brothers, and still, somehow, Markus felt at ease about Agravain. It should have left him feeling uneasy, how quickly the Arthurian vampire’s defensive nature had been disarmed, but Markus was comfortable. Further than that, he was grateful. It would take more than a blade to tear him from his brother’s side again, and while Agravain’s motives were entirely a mystery to him, their years as a vampire had at least one common tether. Persephone. Innately, Markus trusted him, because one of his greatest secrets was one that the pair of brothers shared. 

The older of the two vampires emptied his magazine into the target. Markus’ posture was rigid, but relaxed, his jaw a set, tight line while he flexed into the weapon’s recoil. He set the weapon down and pulled his ear coverings off while the target was drawn forward, from behind vinyl protective glasses, mandated but the mortals who ran this shooting range, Markus caught Agravain’s eye. He had less experience with the human’s new age weaponry, but found them all thoroughly exciting just the same. It was a shame, truly, Markus would miss the old ways of warfare but learning to adapt had become part of his nature.  

“Good luck, you’ll need it to beat that.”