#postremorisu

[cceruleans-archived]

location: dilan’s apartment time: after the charity ball status: closed for @postremorisu

Perhaps scaling a wall to get into a building that he should definitely not be near at all isn’t the smartest idea he’s had in a while but there it is, and he’s trying to get up to the window. The events have shaken him, though he doesn’t want to let it show and he finally reaches the little landing outside her window, tapping on it a few times as he waits. When it finally opens, he speaks before she can say anything, “I know you said you never wanted to see me again but look, can I just come in?”

[cceruleans-archived]

location: the ivy time: afternoon status: @postremorisu

It happens a lot like a scene from a film. A moment where there’s just an innocent bystander, making their way down the street, something in a store catching their eye, and then a fast stop, and then a quick backtrack. Most of the time, it’s a person, but for Elias that delightful afternoon, it’s a cupcake, sitting on a platter in the cafe window, gazing back longing (he thinks) back at him. It’s a fairy tale moment, as he stops in his tracks, and doubles back, and slips into the store. The line isn’t long at all, but to his horror, he watches the barista move in slow motion towards the stand, lift the cupcake from it and place it into the brown bag. There’s another moment when his face falls, he can feel it, and his brows furrow. “Are you f-” he stops himself in time, turning towards the door to trudge sadly back down the street when he’s stopped in his tracks for the second time in ten minutes. “Great, this is wonderful,” he knows it’s bound to happen, and the comment is loud enough that it’s intended for her to hear and he takes a moment for his own brain to catch up. “You here to ruin my day too?” 

[cceruleans-archived]

location: seal cove baptist church time: pre storm status: closed for @postremorisu​

If there’s one thing the past week has taught him, it’s that he’s right. He’s right to seek some sort of immortal protection, and since he’s unable to be born with some sort of special blood that would enable that, his only solution is to seek a vampire with enough stupidity to grant him that wish. That feeling of helplessness, coupled with genuine terror at his inability to protect himself as Dilan changed before his eyes, is something he doesn’t ever want to experience again. And with the impending weather calamity, it only confirms his decision. Despite what Dilan thought. Though, seeing her at the church is a surprise. “Fancy seeing you here,” his lips are curved upwards in a jovial smile. “Glad you’re alright.”

[cceruleans-archived]

location: foyer - trying to hide from view time: 9:44pm status: @postremorisu​

A stuffed bag of lollies in a purse is always a go to for Ales. It’s inevitable that at some point of any evening, especially at a rather fancy event, she finds herself needing something else to get her through the evening. Mostly because portions are always small, but this evening, they’re particularly so. Eyes focused on the crowd beyond the foyer, she backs behind some of the marble pillars, and lifts the bag to her lips and takes a quick bite. Sour jelly snakes - her favourite. As she chews, her phone beeps a notification, and she reaches for the phone in her bag, her other hand preoccupied with the candy, and fumbles slightly, the phone dropping out of her hand and into the foyer. She watches in horror as the phone slides into the open area, and is stopped by the heel of a foot of a person she doesn’t know. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she attempts to say, if not for the sour jelly snakes in her mouth muffling her words as she moves towards the stranger. “Thanks.”

[cceruleans-archived]

location: by the edge of the woods time: mid afternoon status: @postremorisu​

The voice comes again, flitting in one ear and out the other like a tease, and he’s wondering if he’s making it up in his state of a newfound feeling of wildness that seem to rampage through him. It screams in his lulling seduction, the Goddess’ voice weaving through the afternoon and Rhian feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, the nerves at the ends of his fingers itch for something that he’s not quite sure of. “Asher,” he turns to the person beside him and glances up. He’s felt this before and he knows. It’s futile. It’s the middle of the afternoon. There’s no full moon. “Something’s happening,” he doesn’t realise his own eyes are glowing bright. “Do you - can you hear that?”