— ​​what was i made for?

five of swords (reversed) — after a period of conflict, you are ready to move forward with your life and create positive change.

a multimuse dependant blog for hidden washington. written by ursie.

𝕄𝕌𝕊𝔼𝕊

louis had learned to mistrust stillness in washington. it always meant something was about to change shape. people, stories, entire lives quietly rearranging themselves while pretending they were just passing through. that was why he walked with his camera tonight, letting the act of photographing the city anchor him to something tangible, something that did not dissolve the moment he looked at it too closely.

louis saw him without meaning to. not a face at first. not even a certaintly. just a silhouette at the edge of a quiet street, framed by the kind of dim light that made everything feel like a memory rather than a moment. louis stopped walking. the camera lowered slightly in his hand. he knew that posture. he recognised that walk. he knew the shape of that presence the way one knew a wound that never fully closed.

louis didn't expect silence to feel like this. not absence, not peace... something heavier, more deliberate, like the world had been arranged into a shape that resembled a memory, but refused to become one. the café, the street outside, the noise of strangers living without consequence... all of it fell away the moment his eyes settled on her. not a resemblance. not a trick of grief or memory. — claudia. — as she had been, as she had become. his body went still in a way that had nothing to do with predation and everything to do with recognition so absolute it felt like collapse. for a long moment he simply looked at her, as though movement might shatter the fragile impossibility of her presence.

when he finally spoke, his voice didn't hold its usual restraint. instead, it held something quieter, worn thin by time and guilt and the kind of love that had never known had to survive itself. "claudia," he whispered into the night, and there was no question in it, only recognition that hurt precisely because it was so capable of existing. "tell me what I'm seeing," he added, voice steadier now, but threaded with something raw beneath it, "because I already know what it feels like... and i don't think I can survive it twice."

louis saw her before he allowed himself to believe he had. the bar was loud in the way washington always was — warm bodies, warm light, the familiar illusion of life continuing without consequence. but none of it registered the way it should have once his attention locked onto the far side of the room. there, standing in unbothered stillness of someone who didn't quite belong to the noise around her, was a face he had last seen in a very different world, in a very different time, when new orleans still felt like something that could hold a memory safely. his steps slowed without intention, then stopped altogether, as though forward motion would collapse something fragile in the air between them. it couldn't be her. it was her. the logic failed him. "that isn't possible," louis said quietly, voice stripped of its usual ease, gaze fixed on the woman with a sharp, unsettled certainty. "you're dead."

louis noticed her the way he noticed anything that didn't belong entirely to chance — subtle at first, then unavoidable, like a note held too long in a low hum of a crowded bar. washington had a way of pressing strangers together under warm lights and pretending it was coincidence, but she moved through it differently, threading between tables and bodies as if the room had already agreed to make space for her. he remained where he was, sat at the bar and watching without interruption or claim. when she came close enough, louis spoke without lifting his voice to match the room. "you move through this place as though it should adjust itself around you," he said, gaze resting on her with composed attention rather than scrutiny. "i'm trying to figure out whether that expectation is a habit."

he hadn't meant to interfere. that much was still true. but louis had long since stopped pretending he wasn't what he was, and that made noticing things like this unavoidable rather than regrettable. the city at night was full of motion dressed up as routine, but this... this was different. intentional and focused. familiar in the way only predators recognised each other without needing introduction. he followed at a distance first, not hiding so much as simply choosing not to announce himself, watching the rhythm of the hunt unfold with an almost thoughtful calm. the human ahead drifted closer to oblivion, unaware of the second set of eyes on them, and for a moment louis considered letting it play out as it would. that was until the pacing shifted, just slightly, the kind of misstep that would cost patience more than skill. he exhaled, faintly amused, and stepped just far enough into the edge of visibility for the other vampire to register him. "you're thinking too loudly," louis spoke, gaze steady on the hunter now, unbothered by the implications of what he was interrupting, "it makes the outcome... predictable."

he arrived just as the last of the daylight was thinning out of the sky. that brief, cruel moment where the world still pretended it belonged to the living. the bookstore was already half-closed — lights dimmed, chairs tucked in, the quiet ritual of ending a day almost complete — when louis passed outside the glass, watching the girl inside move with the careful efficiency of someone who had done this many times without thinking about it. he should have walked away; he always should have walked away. but something about the warm spill of lamplight against the shelves, the scent of paper and ink and human routine, held him there a moment too long. when he finally stepped inside, it was without urgency, almost apologetic, the door chime sounding far too loud in the settling quiet. "i'm sorry," he said gently, voice low as he lingered near the threshold, careful not to come too close too fast, "i didn't realise you were closing. i only wanted a book."

he moved through washington the way the city's shadows liked to be moved through — slow, deliberate, as if he and the night were in quiet agreement about ownership. eccarius had been following the rhythm of a heartbeat for several blocks now. not rushing it, simply savouring the inevitability of it, letting the hunt unfold like a familiar piece of theatre he still enjoyed performing despite the centuries. the streets were mostly empty; the kind of emptiness that made mortals feel safe and made monsters feel amused. he rounded a corner, gaze fixed ahead, attention narrowed to that single fragile presence at the edge of his senses... until something else shifted in the dark. not human. not prey. his step halted mid-motion, stillness snapping into place like a held breath, just as the figure he had been trailing vanished into the distance, lost to panic and poor timing. a faint irritation flickered across his expression, quickly smoothed into something more composed, more curious, as his eyes lifted toward the interruption. "you have impeccable timing," he spoke softly, voice carrying the faintest edge of theatrical offense beneath its velvet calm, gaze settling fully now on the other presence in the dark.

she didn't knock. knocking implied uncertainty, and freddie lounds had long since retired from anything that even remotely resembled hesitation. the office door gave way witha clean, decisive push, and she stepped inside like she already owned the place. her eyes scanned, catalogued, claimed information in real time before anyone had a chance to shape it for her. life had taught her plenty of things, but the most important among them was this: if you waited to be invited, you were already part of someone else's story. hannibal lecter's office looked exactly like the kind of place designed by a man who enjoyed control a little too much, which, honestly, felt like redundancy at this point. freddie let the door close behind her without looking back, her gaze settling forward as if she had been the one expecting him all along. "i figured if i waited politely," she started, voice calm and conversational, "you'd already be halfway through deciding what kind of ending i deserve." a pause. her smile sharpened — bright and unapologetic, entirely unafraid. "so, i saved you the trouble and came first."

she saw him before she fully registered that she was seing him... which was usually how washington worked. faces resurfacing like bad decisions the city hadn't quite managed to swallow. will graham was exactly as she remembered and completely different, like a photograph left too long in the sun. familiar outline with altered edges. freddie slowed her pace just enough to make it look accidental rather than intentional, because nothing about this was accidental... and if will graham was here, the story had teeth again. "well," freddie spoke lightly, like she was commenting on the weather, "i certainly have been underestimating how far you and doctor lecter were willing to bring your little arrangement." her smile sharpened as she stopped a few steps away, eyes flicking over him like she was already drafting headlines. "you look... survivable. i'm choosing to interpret that as personal growth."

freddie lounds stirred her drink like she was waiting for it to confess something. it wasn't a particularly busi place, which was exactly why she chose it — quiet rooms made secrets feel louder, and freddie had always preferred her information freshly panicked. she'd angled just enough into the space to be noticed but not enough to look like she was trying, thumb scrolling the social media feed on her phone. as she spotted someone interesting, she didn't wave or call out. she simply locked in, like a predator deciding whether the chace would be fun or educational. "you're either having the worst day of your life," freddie spoke pleasantly as the man passed her by, "or you're about to. i can never tell which is more common around here." a short beat. then, like it was an afterthought she generously chose to share, "either way, i'd love to hear how it started."

freddie had spent enough years around various public relations experts and spokespeople to know that every carefully crafted statement was usually hiding a far more interesting story underneath. that particular theory was what found her lingering near the end of a press briefing, notebook balanced against her palm as the room gradually emptied around her. "you know," she remarked conversationally, approaching the other woman once the crowd had thinned, "most people spend their lives trying to avoid reporters. you willingly walk into a room full of them several times a week." the corner of her mouth curved upward. "either that is remarkable courage, or you've discovered some secret about human nature the rest of us are missing."

the publishing house was quieter than freddie had expected. perhaps that was her own fault for imagining that every editor spent their days fending off dramatic authors and looming deadlines. with a manuscript tucked beneath one arm and a coffee she had no intention of finishing in the other hand, she paused outside a partially open office door. she glanced at the nameplace on the door, before gently knocking against the frame. "veronica sawyer?" freddie asked, flashing a quick smile that suggested equal parts charm and trouble. "freddie lounds. freelance journalist, professional nuissance, and — potentially — your next bestselling author." she would be lying if she said this was the first time she barged into somebody's workspace with the confidence of a woman who has never met a boundary she couldn't lean on. "i was hoping you might spare a few minutes for a woman trying to figure out whether survivinga serial killer is enough to justify several hundred pages."

Was that JESSICA CHASTAIN? Oh no no, that was just FREDRICA "FREDDIE" LOUNDS, a CANON CHARACTER from HANNIBAL. She is THIRTY-SEVEN years old, uses SHE/HER pronouns, and is AWARE that she is not actually from Washington DC. Too bad she can’t stray from this city for long.

Was that JAMIE CAMPBELL BOWER? Oh no no, that was just ECCARIUS, a CANON CHARACTER from PREACHER. He is OVER THREE HUNDRED years old, uses HE/HIM pronouns, and is AWARE that he is not actually from Washington DC. Too bad he can’t stray from this city for long.

Was that JACOB ANDERSON? Oh no no, that was just LOUIS DE POINTE DU LAC, a CANON CHARACTER from THE VAMPIRE CHRONICLES. He is ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-FIVE years old, uses HE/HIM pronouns, and is AWARE that he is not actually from Washington DC. Too bad he can’t stray from this city for long.