THERE IS STRENGTH IN EMOTION !

haha it’s not fancy at all i swear. just a black and white gradient. but thank u.

Lucifer had been out front of Lux, watching the street as he usually did when he needed a bit of air, flicking his coin as he let his mind wonder until a young woman began talking to him. He opened his mouth and was about to answer when she turned and walked away. “Hold on. If you’re lost, I’m more then happy to help you.” He reached out a hand, gently catching her wrist.

the hand that hand intercepted hers felt foreign. not just because she didn’t know who it belong to, but because it had been her first sense of genuine contact. it felt like when you get so used to wearing a ring, but then take it off and it leaves a ghost behind. the past couple of hours she had been bumped into and jolted aside by fellow pedestrians. everything as sending her into sensory overload, her limbs were holding on to whatever ounce of strength they could muster to keep her up. and so she allowed herself to be assisted. ❝ THANK YOU. ❞ she expressed with a childlike smile. truly she had no idea of where she had been thinking when asking for help. zeke lived in cincinnati and she was almost certain she was nowhere near cincinnati at the moment, nor did she think he wanted anything to do with her - no he had made that exceedingly clear.  ❝ i-i really don’t have any idea of where i am. i don’t have any money but i’m just looking for a place to say. ❞

❝ you couldn’t have expected me to easily agree with such an absurd idea ! we might as well just walk around with target circles on our foreheads. ❞

     foster had proven HER correct – something he never would have done if he had known her glowing orbs were consuming him and his idiotic decisions from within the bar. he didn’t know anything about this female and what she believed in, but something in her tone of voice signified that she was amused. he wasn’t aware that he had just validated her thoughts, her notion that humanity would always destroy itself because foster was none other than the best fucking example for that. he was a ticking time bomb, caving in on himself at an excruciatingly slow rate. he had always been cognizant of the fact that he didn’t care about anything or anyone, or at least he’d like to convince himself that this was a fact, but somehow the way her 24 karat halos kept him pinned to the wet pavement had his chest rising with frantic emotion. something wasn’t completely right, but he couldn’t put a finger on the feeling. it was as if he were looking at an exotic animal in the zoo, like a cheetah or a lion that anyone knew could rip out their throat if the glass wasn’t there. there wasn’t any glass. there was a lingering sickness in his stomach that had no relation to the whiskey; one wrong move, and he was obliterated.      that feeling didn’t hinder him from spitting back a retort – his veins still burned. he was still foster, no matter the situation. “ it’s no fun if you pick on someone smaller. ” he didn’t look like he had been having any fun regardless, the expression he donned completely flat despite the slow creep of panic climbing his spinal chord. why was she out here, anyway? was he a clown, some form of entertainment for her to stand and gawk at? it dawned on him that he was still laying on the ground, right next to a black garbage bag that smelled like it contained a dead skunk. he keeps his dark amber rondures fixed on her as he ascends, feeling the dampened threads on his back stick to his skin. FUCK. taking a few steps forward seemed like a bad idea, but his sneakers carried him towards the entrance of the alleyway – where the pale, pixie like vixen suffocated the air. she felt like someone he would surround himself with – her presence was enough to elicit emotion through the haze of alcohol, excitement and even fear. he knew this even after she’d only spoken a sentence to him. “ so, princess - did you come out to make sure i was okay, or have a laugh? ”

emotions seemed to waft off the boy as steam does from a heating pipe in a poorly kept apartment building during the cold winters. usually, elvzia found it to come and go in waves of pleasant delight, still, there was something quite odd about this specimen. had her mind not been so wildly excited the connection would have been made to further assess the situation, but no one likes to be bored. today is the one day of the year she indulges in playing with her food first. the smell of perspiration drifted through the air sending sparks to the base of her spine. then the smell hit her. it was musky, smelling of dirt and a hint of pine - ANIMAL LIKE. her demeanor sheds to that of a trustworthy girl instantly. with a smile as sincere as the caring friend. it hides the instincts triggered canines at the roof of her. invisible tendrils of compulsion make their way into the boys head to rid any thoughts of dangerous inquiries. ❝ can’t a girl have both? you at least, have to appreciate the HUMOR OF THE SITUATION. ❞ her scarlet tinted lips tilt up a calculated amount further. too much and it would be obvious that something was up, and too little might just do the same. body language is an art form that takes skills to master. it changes just as much as verbal language as different parts of the world interpret gestures in different ways. a simple message that sounds to be caring has the power to come across as a leathal threat to a person’s life.  ❝ it’s like i just watched a live mtv movie! ❞

where i’m from: new york

where i would like to live: i am a 18th century brit wearing the skin of an american.

sexual orientation: abrosexual

single/taken: single

favorite book: i don't really like books. i enjoy essays. the first series by emerson is my favourite.

eye color: light brown.

favorite movie: the davinci code, mr.nobody, and v for vendetta.

favorite band/singer: top,p!atd, the 1975, matd, far too many more.

favorite day of the year: whenever the autumn equinox is.

favorite color: blue

if i have any pets: no :/

what i’m listening to: the wreck by snow ghosts

what does your name mean: it's a gemstone.

( @clairvcynace | starter call )

   “If you’re looking for something valuable on that body, don’t bother. It’s     already been picked clean. In spite of all of the accusation, he had less     than ten deniers on him.”

daylight. in france it felt like there was no other way to see it under the radiance of the sun. but many seem to think that the thinnest ray of sunlight that slips onto the skin of a vampire, would be their eradication. seemingly to be backed up by the stories of modern fiction and film, folklore tends to state otherwise. there is a certain sensitivity, yes, but the tales of folklore go to say that those closest in blood relativity to Dracula, are to have been less susceptible to the power of uv rays. and so granted by her father himself, elviza is able to stay out for roughly two hours, three if it’s cloudy and she feels like pushing it. if she stays out for longer blisters start to rise on her soft creamy skin. but this was eighteenth-century france. right at the start of it’s revolution, with it’s buildings that dazzled in decorated molds, and ceilings covered in murals, and it’s people ready to challenge the ways of a broken society. but to elviza’s favour, the fashion was beneficial to her DEFICIENCIES. the enormous hats adorned with everything. from ribbons to lace, from lace to bows, from bows to flowers, and flowers to feathers, along with many other things. this paired with the ever-changing styles of the french granted elviza not only the opportunity to be well guarded from the sun but, kept her fashion sense on her toes. because if it’s one thing the french know, it’s how to know when something has gone out of style.

typically she feeds at night covered by the cloak of darkness, but these were not typical times. she had been testing her limits once again just to make sure all was well and if she had been gaining any endurance or strength. the area of endurance seemed to be up to par. it might sounds odd, a vampire training when they are already capable of disarming a human threat quite easily. however, elviza both does not want to have to rely on her strength and simply likes the workout. so when she returned to the populated streets of france all she had to do was follow the trace of her snout. in the back of an alley she found a man’s body. he felt cold and as she approached closer the smell of his decaying flesh came to her. it had yet to become an overwhelming smell that could have been picked up my the nose of an untrained mortal. elviza began to kneel down, fidgeting with her voluminous dress along with its headpiece that sat atop her mop of carefully maintained curls. bloodlust was budding within her, blurring out the logic and reason in short moments. before she knew it, the curved porcelain fangs were just about to break the corpses skin, but she was interrupted by another voice at the entry of the alley.

she quickly began aiding the acrimal glands that sat behind her golden hued orbs in producing tears to roll down her cheeks. this paired with the rush of colour to her cheeks gave the appearance of a person in mourning. her body language was the only piece to add in the puzzle. she brought her hand up to caress the dead man’s face as if she had plans to adore him for the rest of her life. she spoke out without turning to face the source of where the voice had come from.  ❝ J-Je suis vr-vraiment désolé. I was betrothed to this man. ❞ her eyes still fixed on his face as saline tears were taken by the forces of gravity from her eyes.