omnia mutantur, nihil interit

starter for @dominusromanum

Such nights ought to rise like bile in the human throat. They reek of all four humors, blood pounding most prominently at the temple. The company composes themselves around them, a closing system that seeks to expel the thorns. They are this, embedded in the flesh of polite society, poisoning it with their vitriolic glances, the disdainful absence of niceties. Santino, clad in his beloved black, seems an austere arbiter of some greater scheme. He observes without passion or pity as Marius plays the host to all but him. 

It must be the way his eyes follow, dark all the way down, that finally prick the old Roman into action. Santino perhaps knew what he was provoking, where he let his barriers sink to let loose a barb of ungenerous commentary that he thought, quite pointedly, at the passing elder. Ah, yes. A sour night indeed, that seeks in its bitter embalment nothing but company. He knows well enough that he is unwelcome, that Marius would sooner see him stripped and flayed and ashes. He finds himself telling him as much in the end. He finds himself in a blur of thick, intoxicated blood, sniping and snapping at an old enemy. 

“—your pride. All you could do to avenge yourself, you’ve done it. You caused nothing but horror and harm in your pursuit of righteous vengeance. If everyone you wronged had your tenacity, you would not be able to step outside your door at night. I am tired of bearing the brunt of your ire. I am tired of you and your pain. What of mine, Marius? What of mine?”

Marius’ cheeks were warm; his lips flushed in pink, cloaking the unnatural alabaster shade of his complexion even if only slightly, but it would suffice for the scrutiny of mortal eyes. Oh, and how he adored the heat, the multitude, the chattering; entertaining vampires and humans alike in reunions along with lengthy conversations was ever something in which he took great pleasure. There was a keen lightness in his mood, as the toxins from the blood he had consumed seemed to be at their still heightened effects. He did not mind it. Perhaps it was the only way in which he would suffer the persistent stain in his joyous gathering. 

He spotted him well enough with the corner of his clear cerulean eyes, standing out enough in his black garments like a sore thumb, making the act of feigning indifference to his presence - or better, pretending that he was not present at all - quite the impossible task. His eyelids lowered in a brief, but piercing glare as he, in all his resolve, at last approached the man; his back was rigid as steel, and yet he did attempt to conceal at least half of his contempt, least it’d draw the attention of others’ prying gazes.

Oh, but Santino’s sudden accusations dawned on him like a bucket of cold water, and despite that, all he could feel was his veins, filled with mortal blood, inflaming with wrath; his eyes widened, and his hand flung on the man’s collar with an iron grip. How fast was he to give way to anger, but how could he not?! How could he maintain reason before such wicked, vile words! The sheer audacity—!

“Do not dare to play the martyr with me, fiend!,” his frame towered over him, baring fangs at every violently whispered word. “Your pain?!” His sight was hindered by the thin crimson veil that clouded them, in all his fury, in all his rage, accumulating in their corners. His lips crooked in an scoff. “You, your accursed being ruined me. You, in all your selfishness and self-righteousness you accuse me of, have stolen me all that I once cherished!” His fingers had gone paler at the strength in which he held the front of Santino’s vests; his brows relaxed, an exhale came through his parted lips, fanning on the other’s jaw. He glanced elsewhere, ashamed of such a pathetic display of his lack of composure, eventually letting go of the man’s shirt; he, however, remained planted, solid before Santino, eyeing him with a hint of remorse. Blood throbbed in his head. 

He looked over his shoulder, patient cerulean eyes slightly intrigued at the sight of Pandora halting her steps behind his figure.