#immortal-chronicler

[everarddelanden]

📖 (Lestat)

I finally met him; ‘the devil’ himself. It is mostly what I expected. A handsome face that distracts his posse from his idiocy. True, there is some charm to how he bumbles about, pretending he knows what he is doing, but I have seen too many pretty faces with pincers to fall for it. But his pincers are made of beeswax. And his claws of cotton balls. The only thing intimidating about him is the quality of his hair. He is trying to enforce rules upon all vampires. Let us start with putting a cap on quality of hair, shall we?

[vcsecretgifts]

🎁Submitted Gifts🎁

Big thank you to @immortal-chronicler​ for submitting the first gift of the exchange! It’s queued and ready. Here’s your badge for successful submission, feel free to repost wherever.

We’re grateful to our badge designer, @sangcreole​ (aka @theballadofmrslovett​), who designed this as a gift to the exchange 💝

[caravaggiovagabond]

@immortal-chronicler cont. 

“Mhmm.” 

A brow raises minimally, the apparent adolescent leaning on the frame of the door leading into Lestat’s office. “I don’t expect you to impress me, Lestat. I very rarely even expect you not to disappoint me -- why break the habit of a lifetime?” Though, despite the harsh words, there’s an impish smirk accompanying them, betraying his amusement. 

Slinking inside the room and approaching the other’s desk, an inquisitive eye is run over the notes scattered across the hardwood surface, pointedly ignoring the brat prince’s question.

“And what venture, dare I ask, is it that you plan on undertaking this time?”

[everarddelanden]

⚫️ You are very good at setting the scene in your roleplays.

//Thank you!! For some characters such things are important and Everard is definitely one of them.

[dark-eyed-elegance]

✽

for every ✽ my muse will tell a story of one of their sexual experiences

With a suspicious little glance, a breath hovering on his lower lip a moment -- “Once while Daniel Molloy was fucking a beautiful French girl on holiday in Bucharest -- he’d never been and I asked if he wanted to see the ‘birthplace’ of vampires -- I had what they call a ‘trigger,’ I think, I’m not sure what or why, it’s just that I suddenly remembered my rape and the whorehouse rooms and things like that, and I ripped them apart from each other and killed her.” He shrugged. “I was all right again after that, thankfully.” 

[teamreeves]

❛ If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you’d be doomed. You’d be ruined as God. ❜ (Mael)

Jesse frowned, peering into Mael’s eyes. “Have you been at the drunks again?”

[spiritofthefox]

Hello world||Fox and Mael.

The world, as it turned out, was nothing like he had imagined. He had heard tales of course, and sometimes even watched the television in his uncle’s abandoned cabin. But nothing had prepared him for what it would feel like, sound like and smell like. The tall buildings and the constant onslaught of sensory input had him losing his sense of direction, and so far even the simplest things had him thrown off. 

He could part himself into particles and materialize where he had last tracked his uncle to, but he could not figure out how to use his piece of plastic to get a cup of coffee. He had ended up feeling so stupid by the end of it he had just walked out without the coffee, his cheeks burning as he hitched his backpack higher and moved on.

Then a vampire had crossed his path and the familiarity of the supernatural had made him reach out, for some reason counting more on help from the immortal than from the humans. He’d even gone so far as to put himself right in front of the other male, looking up at him with a friendly smile “sir vampire? I was wondering if you know how I can make money come out of this plastic card?” he held it up to him, hearing the voice of his caretaker telling him vampires had killed his family and that he should never seek contact. But....this wasn’t a kindred, so it should be fine. 

@immortal-chronicler

[the-good-boy-mojo]

Lestat walks onto the patio and slowly kneels down. A sharp whistle echoes from his lips, keen eyes searching the back garden for a certain furred friend.

Mojo had been curled up at an old tree’s roots, more or less lulled by the nocturnal insects and birds ballet, his lids so heavy, finally closing for fractional second. Though, the acute sounds that reached for his ears suddenly awaken him up, muzzle lifting instantly. Who was it? Sniffing the air, the dog tried to catch a smell before deciding if he would or not leave his cozy hideout.

It didn’t take long before he did recognize who was the one calling for him, and all tiredness forgotten, made him jump on his paws and sprint to his friend. He found him close to the stony path, and barked loudly to greet him. He couldn’t stop to furiously waggle his tail, even before he even arrived near to his friend. Oh, he had missed him! So, so very much!

Throwing himself at the blond-biped’s feet, Mojo yelled and whined in happiness, sniffing at his friend’s pant so very curious to know where he had been. Town? Oh, why had he been in town? Town was boring! No good boy could play with a stick in town… and the gastronomy was terrible. But.. oh it had no importance, for his friend was here now!

Rolling on his back in front of the blond-biped, the German Shepherd allowed for those strange-white-paws to rummaged in his fur, amber glance searching for blue one. Tongue out, he barked one last time, excited to find back his friend.