#necrcmance

[pagetorn]

❝ ...   I’ll take that drink now, @necrcmance​ ❞

[cainiine-a]

@necrcmance​

“ So first you tell me that you want to throw me into a pool of holy water and now you put my face on your blog? I must say Malcolm, I’m getting mixed signals here. “

[instituteled]

He’s a 10, but he’ll manipulate, mansplain, manslaughter, gatekeeper and gaslight you, because you’re only a small gear turning in his grand schemes.

so what you're saying is at least a 12, right

[count-v-dracula]

sends Vlad this cute little knife as an apology.

"Oh, excellent! I know exactly the occasion to use it...."

[sortilegum]

@necrcmance asked " . . . .will you not go on an evening stroll with me? "

A curious request? There was pause from the witch and a glint of intrigue ever so subtly passed through Q’s hawkish gaze. They reclined back. The long indigo point of some exotic leathered boot that matched their coat, crossed behind their heel. “And why would I want to do that?” It was a simple retort. Q never thought themselves to be a particularly fickle or difficult person to be around. Although, this country nor state was not their own, and certainly not lacking in the blood of the occult. They were not as nearly interesting, powerful or influential as they once were. This meeker, mild creature they had become. So why come to them? Why would Malcolm divert his energy to get to know a mere passing face that held no allegiance? Could they be inclined to believe the warlock planned to proposition them? Perhaps.

A sleek shadow slipped around the warlock, trotting towards its master’s side. The willowy visage of the sighthound peering watchfully as Q moved their hand to stroke the long haired hound. 

Their head dipped slightly. The corners of their lips curled to flash one of their familiar devilish smirk. “I suppose I could indulge you.” They gestured outward, sending the dog away. Thank goodness this night they had chosen to dress casual.

[courtofmuses-archive]

@necrcmance​ said:  ‘  we  all  know  the  story  of  how  the  queen  becomes  a  queen.  ’ from some meme || always accepting

The corners of the queen’s lips quirked, and she raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the warlock before her. “Ah,” she mused. “And what, pray tell, do the mortals and you ilk think you know about what it means to become a queen.” 

Leaning forward, she placed a an elbow on the table between them, resting her chin on long, delicate fingers. “I would love to know.”

[periculosum]

She couldn’t help but w o n d e r what that interesting alluring smell that radiated off his person. It didn’t smell human, nor vampire. But there has been talks through the Parliament that other species also roamed across this land right under the noses of vampires. Still, she wanted to know him. In a way, perhaps she was fascinated... And maybe, just maybe... Have a taste. 

    “Drinking by yourself? You’re either sad and lonely... Or egoistic. Which is it?” 

The woman asked as she made herself comfortable by taking a seat next to him without a formal invite. Messalina was also here by herself, and if the tables were turned and he had asked her the same question, the answer would be simple. Egoistic. ( @necrcmance​ )​

[itokunii-a]

@necrcmance​ asked:  ❛ . . ... ...well. you’re about as intimidating as a butterfly. ❜ // erik.

The wind rustles through the dark leaves of the forest, running through bushes and branches, dancing past every living creature and every flowing river, swallowing their noises whole as though it is its own entity that has claimed reign over these woods. And yet when it reaches him, it seems to dissipate into nothingness, quieting down, nestling itself behind his form, not even tugging on his clothes as though it is offering its respect, as if it does not want to disturb him. He has been kneeling in front of an oak's trunk for many moments gone by now, rooted in place, his knees sinking into the earth below. Nimble fingers are clasped around each other as he bows his head to his knuckles and perhaps he would have sat there until the draught had passed, would the sudden steps not tear him out of his reverie.

He rises in an instant, a little startled that someone has ventured that far out into the vastness of this world. Black lashes flutter as he regards the other man with a mixture of intrigue and caution, letting his hand slip into his breast pocket to retrieve a small notebook and pencil, writing what cannot cross his lips. [ You cannot be here. You're not allowed to cross further. ] What he does not expect, however, as he holds out the paper for the other to read, is to be met with mockery, shattering a peaceful expression with the faintest hints of confusion as his eyebrows draw together. Once again he scratches a massage. [ I do not want to intimidate you, I'm simply warning you. This is the domain of the dead and the restless. If you go further, you risk getting taken by them. ]