#undyingchild

[biancasolderini]

Bianca when it comes to Benji and Sybelle let's be real

[sangcreole]

@undyingchild sent: ❝ aww come on! it was a prank! ❞

Louis stands unnervingly still as viper-green eyes trace the reams of toilet paper strewn over the house. There is a sinking feeling in his chest as a few streams are caught by a rogue evening breeze and flutter like strange phantoms.

"A prank," he echoes, as if trying to comprehend. A prank. A mortal custom. Harmless. He'd heard of it before, of course. Seen it in movies, and such. It's supposed to be...what, funny? Amusing, somehow, to leave such a mess in the middle of the night, only to imagine the annoyance of the homeowner the next morning?

But there is a bitterness in him that far outweighs any delight Benji might have found in the act.

It's such a beautiful property— the kind, he's learned, that is excessively hard to find in New York. Long Greek columns framing a charming little front porch with just enough room for a small wicker chair on one side. Why anyone would willingly disrespect it with such a crude prank not only astounds him— it touches the cruelty in him, the cold-burning fire always seething just below his porcelain skin.

Eyes snap now to the younger Blood Drinker, and though his temper remains in check, there is no room for question or interpretation in his voice. He will not change his mind, and he will not ask twice:

"Clean this up at once."

[sonataforsybelle]

“Sis, pick a favorite song, but it can’t be a piano piece.”

Mhhhh.... Léon Boellmann's Suite Gothique. Especially the Toccata. I love the organ too !

[quantus-tremor]

❛ You like that crap because it reminds you of you. ❜

The three of them often like this for hours, Sybelle and Armand reading to one another in a tangle of limbs on the loveseat with Benji hovering nearby, occasionally laughing with them or joining in. Sometimes Benji would sit and listen if it was a novel that interested him, but anything too dense or pretentious would have him gently teasing them both. They’d gone through plenty of classics already, books that both Sybelle and Armand had read tens of times, and Armand was keen to introduce Sybelle to some cult novels. He skipped over the ones he despised - Burroughs, Kerouac, etc - and instead asked Sybelle to conquer Danielewski with him. So far she seemed to be enjoying it, and she never skipped a section or relented, always trying to discern the themes and narrative even when it descended into monographs on fictional architecture by fictional scholars. He admired her for it. 

Benji had not been enjoying this novel, but he'd stayed nearby anyway. It was Armand’s turn to read and Benji was lying prostrate on the couch opposite playing with his mobile phone. Armand had just read one of his favourite quotes aloud to Sybelle; “Why did God create a dual universe? So he might say, ‘Be not like me. I am alone.’ And it might be heard.” 

Without looking up from his phone, Benji had said it; “You like that crap because it reminds you of you.” 

Armand laughed aloud without thinking. That was a line from the book. Had Benji been listening enough to remember that quote from earlier in the novel, then kept it to parrot it at a relevant point in jest? Had he heard it subconsciously and used it to articulate a genuine comment of his own? Either way, it was enough to make Armand shut the book for a moment and look over at Benji, his brother, son, friend, his companion in immortality. He was right, in a sense. That was an idea Armand had articulated himself, or tried to in a roundabout way, many times. There were many little lines in House of Leaves that resonated with his own experiences - and those of many others, he was sure, hence the book's adoring fans. He decided to respond in kind, paraphrasing the rest of the quote Benji had perhaps half-remembered.

“I couldn't have said it better or put it more bluntly. I don’t disagree with it either.” 

Sitting between Sybelle and Benji in a comfortable room, he was reminded of another of those quotes, one which he'd initially thought was full of despair. I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I know it’s not cheap. Probably not even real. He settled back into his reading spot and found the quote didn't resonate so much as it once had. Whatever Truant had been describing, it was real. In this room, with these people, it was real.

[sonataforsybelle]

✵ (undyingchild)

@undyingchild

Their first impression of your muse: How young and small he was. Her thoughts revolved around how fucked up it was that Fox had taken a child to "take care of her". How scared he must be. She actually tried not to get attached at first, but it felt even more cruel to just ignore him, so she mostly tried to be on her best behaviour so he wouldn't suffer.

Current impression: She feels a duty to protect him and somehow "make up" for the years of abuse with Fox and there will always be some residual guilt about this, but she feels so happy to see him thrive and to know Armand and Louis are there to help protect him. He's her little brother and their dynamics have definitely become healthier and more sibling-like. Sybelle will never tire of listening rant about whatever he's been interested in, watch movies with him, hang out with him and Armand. They've been talking more ever since they're safe too. She tries to rely less on him but the cuddles sessions are still very important and he's the one person who make her laugh the most. She loves him so much. For a while, she is scared he might grow to resent her -- because Fox used to help her when they were little and grew into that thug. Somehow the knowledge that he won't change physically reassures her, which in turn makes her think she's fucked up and kind of a monster to feel like this, and woops vampire existential angst :') (that's a theme i really wanna work with in the future either way)

Are they attracted to your muse?: 

Something they find frightening about your muse: nothing that's her baby

Something they find adorable about your muse: his smile when he gets excited, his hair  

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: without question.

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic: as usual the friends thing

One word my muse would use to describe yours: brother

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: never

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: hugs, kisses on his cheeks and forehead

[sonataforsybelle]

@undyingchild sent : sender helps receiver clean up after a kill

It was a time of the year she disliked, near the anniversary of her parents' death, and without her saying a thing Benji already knew. Her songs would get more plaintive, desperate, and her kills more extreme, as on top of the grief the memories of Fox were ever so present. It was of course not unusual for her to come home covered in blood, but she was clearly dissociated now, barely speaking.

It was only natural that after one look at her, Benji had gently taken her hand and led her to the baths, speaking softly about everything and nothing in particular. Just filling in the silence, trying to distract her from her thoughts. It was ingrained in him, the ease with which he spotted her moods and reacted to them, the habit to take care of her when she could not do it herself. Back then he used to watch over her while she bathed so she would not fall asleep, prompt her to go, help her dress and do her hair and eat...

But of course Sybelle never wanted for him to do everything for her again, and surely would have asked Armand or Louis to take over if she had been able.

As he gently cleaned her face with water, she slowly snapped back to reality, blue eyes looking at him and not past. It all felt hazy, but she was there -- and bathing would help, but... "I can do it," she said softly, taking the washcloth from his hands. Not him. Never him again.

[therelentless]

“You might be new, but you’re looking at the top dog around here.

{ @undyingchild ;;

He would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that this little guy seemed so confident in what he was saying. "Really? so this is it? this is all you guys got? you. Well, no offense, but this place already seems a bit disappointing." And somewhat embarrassing. Nothing to brag about really.

[biancasolderini]

💐

💐   to   give   my   muse   a   bouquet   of   flowers. ;; @undyingchild

Bianca had always been appreciative when receiving flowers, and as she held the beautiful bouquet in her arms, the corners of her lips curled into a wide smile before pressing a kiss on Benji's cheek.

"Thank you for the flowers, Benji." Bianca said, dainty fingers gently touching the petals, feeling their softness. "I will preserve some of them, would you like to help me?"