☾ ✧ // sunburnt.

☾ ✧ // prat.

His eyes narrow and glimmer with blood-lust, his body recoiling as his assailant grabs for his face. The strangers' fingernails sink into his ivory skin with animosity.  Dio can’t remember who this man is, but he is most definitely a vampire—just like him.  His fangs bare, ready to rip out the man’s jugular. " ooh? " His coo is soaked in confidence, hardly stunned by this incident. “ If you wish to keep your limbs, I advise you release me. ” he sneers, voice cold.  Dio is not a man toy with in the mood he currently soaks in (unless one has a plan in mind).  Pure annoyance radiates from his body.             Pressing his back off the wall and going against the other admirable strength, Dio stands tall, eyes gleaming in the pitch black of the night.  Pushing against the other’s forehead, his hands raise and wrap around his wrists, squeezing them violently, his own talons making their mark on the other’s cold and pale flesh. “ If you make me waste any more energy on a lowly beast like yourself, you’ll be nothing but a scavenger's dinner. Although, they might have better taste than to rip apart utter shit.” His brows furrow in anger as a smirk widens on his devious features.

☾ ✧ // ——  “issat so?  well, good fer them, then; if ya think yerself better than me, they’ll get a worthy meal in the end,” the vampire snarls back, dark blue eyes smoldering with hatred and disgust and strong, clawed hands trembling with rage.  the only reason reuben stands and remains so close is so he can memorize this bastard’s gleaming amber eyes, so he can drink in the sight of them widening, dulling, closing as death, taking the form of a guttersnipe, devours him whole.  

               he has no plan; he spied the dandy by chance while he was busy skulking along the streets of london in an attempt to get home unnoticed, and quickly changed course to stalk and corner him in an alley.  this dandy is the type to want a grandiose death, a splendorous death, considering how, even just to wound him, to merely set him back, someone needed to burn down his fucking house with him inside.  reuben will not give him what he wants; this bastard dies alone in a crumpled heap surrounded by snow and filth.

Jonathan’s suspicions were confirmed the moment the other man set foot on the ground, allowing the Joestar to get a proper look at him. This man was, indeed, another vampire. But how could that be? Dio had never let that mask out of his sight ever since that dreaded night at the mansion, so how on earth had this happened? Not to mention, even if this chap had the misfortune of encountering him, he likely would’ve just been turned into another one of those zombies…

“It’s quite clear that you and I are both victims of that accursed mask. I had thought my brother and I were the only ones to fall to that damned thing, but it would seem I was wrong.” There was a tinge of resentment in the nobleman’s voice as he spoke of his brother and the mask, a small, though clear indicator of his feelings about those subjects.

However, a moment later, his demeanor changed to one more of concern—even empathy, as he went on to voice another inquiry.

“How did this happen to you...?” 

☾ ✧ // ——  as soon as the fop mentioned a “stone mask” of some kind, the “young” man’s lips curled back into a snarl, his fists clenching.  yes, that piece of shitty costuming had irrevocably changed him into a creature the world around him feared and reviled, yet were attracted to by some supernatural charm, a foul creature that leeched off of others to keep themselves healthy.  

              in short, he’d become a rich man in all but status.  and that made what little blood remained in reuben james kent boil.

               “i was walkin’ back t’me ‘otel a week ‘n’ a ‘alf ago, it was about five in the mornin’.  some blond prick, stumblin’ around ‘n’ makin’ love to a bottle, got pissed when a mate o’ mine insulted ‘im.  started a fight that i was ready t’finish wiv a shiv i keep on me jus’ in case, except the dandy slammed that bleedin’ mask on me, grabbed the knife outta me ‘ands, ‘n’ slit me mate’s throat,” reuben recounted bitterly, but paused, his expression going from sardonic to sickened.

reuben // the best friend

you told them and told them to be careful. now they've gone and gotten themselves killed and you have no one to blame but yourself. in your bed at night do you replay everything you said or did wrong? of course. because you should be perfect. you have to be. the specters wrap themselves around your lungs so tight you can't breathe and you turn your music down low as if that would help you see better. down, downing, drowning. lips blue, gasping for breath. the weight of your sins is heavy. you are not the killer that they are looking for, no, no, but you are a murderer all the same. the only place for you is hell.

feliks // the killer

reuben // hope

In longing, you feel hope. You're on a long road, you know this. Your desire is strong, big in your chest but you don't feel weighed down. You've had your hardships, but you know what you truly seek is, or could be, not far from your grasp. Not to say you don't feel the burning in your heart for something more, but theres still a spark in you, a voice that says, "don't give up, what if?" You can be patient. You know you must be. Your yearning is felt like a campfire in rain, the circumstances say the flame should be out, but yet it burns, as long as god willing or sheer effort keeps it alive. You feel the pull in your gut that makes your throat tighten with the ache of your heart but you softly smile, it's just a reminder of your love. You aren't afraid of your feelings in the way that would make you push them away because you're familiar with them and you know the payoff would be well worth the grief. You're doing great my darling, you will find your love if you have not already.

feliks // melancholy