Après moi, le déluge.

after centuries of staying under the radar, nars figured that it was finally alright to pop back up into the fashion scene. sleeping his way to the top and getting his pick of the men’s collection for fashion week, the gold accents were a favorite that lingered on his skin well after the last walk of the night. stepping back into the throng of the party, he tugged at the neck of the thin, sleeveless black material that was draped artfully across his chest and gave the bottle-blonde who stepped out of the restroom with him a light pat on the ass in acknowledge before allowing himself to be swept up in the roar of the crowd. even with the blood of the coked up model buzzing through his veins and the drinks that passed through his fingers numbly, narcissus was constantly aware of the nagging pressence of the older vampire who sired him. a thousand years ago, seeing the brunette out of the blue would’ve caused him to freeze in the middle of the runway, but sharing nothing more that a second of eye contact over a crowded market in mumbai and being blatantly ignored in asian airports across decades had slowly desensitized him of his pressence. pressing an empty kiss to the corner of a designer he couldn’t remember’s mouth, he handed over his half finished drink before begging off for a moment of air - catching lucian heading over in the same direction moments earlier being completely coincidental. even still, passing through the large archway, eyes the color of aged whiskey swept over the balcony before landing on the familiar figure who looked so familiar and distant though nars could quite literally reach out to touch him had he the interest to. careful of the intricate gold designs covering his arms, nars stopped a few paces away and leaned his back against the edge of the balcony - constantly beckoning for the other to reach out to him, though he’d been wrong for a millennium now. “did you see anything you liked?” he meant the show, perhaps, but the smirk the pulled on his lips revealed that he really did not care for the answer to the question he started with. “you look good, like an artist who’s scared of scissors, but very rich and in demand and likes to be called daddy if i didn’t know better.” twisting his lips in a wry attempt to subdue his humor, he thrummed on, never short of dramatic. “i wrote you everyday for the past century, did you even think of me once?”

he looks over paris, unimpressive and unchanged as far as he’s concerned, with his hands resting over the cold marble stone of the balcony. the ring, the one that distinguished him as a sforza then, glints under the light he’s in, and out of habit he twists it slightly with his thumb and index, back and forth. his back was turned and mind adrift, yet he doesn’t miss the other entering the balcony area; he’s just never been one to react, especially when he expects as much. his gaze moves from bright lights to golden designs once the other stands close, brow furrowing in slight amusement as nars’ voice fills the silence between the two. he’s known him long enough to understand most of him -- the connection they once shared after his turning allowed as much. but there were parts of him he never bothered to dwell into; he always allowed nars to keep his motives and intentions to himself. despite him always trying to understand people in order to control them, there was something in the other vampire that just made him feel like it wasn’t needed to try to get it all out of him. he didn’t care as long as the other responded to him whenever he wanted it. if only to not remain too quiet, he actually responds. “always been a fan of gold and decent parisian fashion,” he states simply, with a bit of truth, finally raising his dark eyes to meet the other’s pair. he frowns, straightening his back. “you look like some extravagant warlock with a death wish.” now he was on the same position as the other, placing his hands inside the pockets of his overcoat.  eyes were seemingly serious as he looked at him. “you can actually write? that’s a shock. besides, a century is hardly a blink of an eye. plenty of things to think about before thinking of you: global warming, kids dying, people’s blood tasting like shit as time passes.”

“i didn’t think you’d show up,” the younger girl stated, walking up to her brother. “you should be home resting or something.”

“Didn’t wanna miss all the fun, Avie. Who knows how much of it there’ll be in the afterlife.” 

“So… Is anyone going to acknowledge how awkward this is, or is it just going to be me?”

“These people could barely acknowledge the existence of a killer, you can’t actually expect all that much.”

“You know, when I first moved to Dover Dr. Thinn was stressed at least, well, all the time. Now I’m the one who’s stressed. There’s barely enough patients to get paid. Which is good! Just different.”

“Should I break a leg?” 

“So I did the thing that anyone in their right mind would do after getting stabbed by a murder on the same night they got alcohol poisoning and a dislocated shoulder… I dropped out of college and now I live on the couch of my parents’ house.”

“That’s fuckin’ depressing man.” 

mae: new phone who dis mae: take a wild guess