[ 𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙻 .. ]

#𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙸𝙲𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙽𝚂.   independent fandomless original warlock characters,   AZURINE FRIERSON & BALTASAR FUENTES.   written by mars, 25, he/him/his.  mutuals only and selective.  affiliated with @warlcks​.

august  12,    1921      

the  date  is  written  meticulously  in  practiced  script  across  a  piece  of  paper  in  bold  black  ink.    it  taunts  him,    reminding  him  how  much  time  has  truly  passed.  one-hundred  years  since  he  has  had  to  lay  his  mentor  beneath  the  soil.    ETERNITY  STRETCHES  ON  ENDLESSLY.        without  guidance,    the  young  warlock  has  unwillingly  been  fumbling  about  throughout  the  century.    it  felt  dirty  to  be  reduced  to  using  his  powers  to  steal,    mainly  clothes  and  food  (  sometimes  riches  ),  in  order  to  survive.    but  who  he  was  and  who  he  needed  to  be  in  order  to  survive  could  not  meet  halfway  yet.  it  would  happen.  these  years  would  be  measly  faded  memories  in  due  time.    pen  presses  against  the  paper  before  him,  carefully  curating  a  message  for  an  old  foe.  

darling  felix,      

i  know  how  heavily  my  presence  has  been  missed.  you  were  so  easy  to  track  down,  it’s  almost  as  if  you  left  your  wards  down  because  you  wanted  me  to  find  you.    

i  shall  be  at  club  durant  around  11pm.    grace  me  with  your  brooding  company?  i’m  sure  there’s  still  room  on  that  forehead  for  more  worried  lines.    

-  baltasar    

@magicruins​​“ don’t be stupid, friend. ” baltasar @ freya

      low  growl  rumbled   from  her  throat   as  she  kept  her  distance .   she  never  did  trust  strangers .  maybe  the  reasoning  behind  that  was  the  FACT that  every  time  she  turned  around ,  someone  was  out  to  kill  her  and  the  others .  there  was  never  peace  within  the TOWN  .  and  something  about  this  other  being  caused  the  werewolf  to  remain  on  edge .  canines  showed .  cold  steel  blue  orbs   remained  narrowed .    he  called  her  FRIEND .  was  this  someone  who  knew  of  her  and  the  others ?  were  they  allies ?  she  still  didn’t  trust .

                “  hmm ,  stupid  would   be  allowing  my  GUARD  down .  i  prefer  to  stay  this  way . “

@magicruins​​ sent: [BAR] // from baltasar to nicolas

The dark haired man sat alone beside an empty bar, a hand holding a glass filled with bourbon. His right foot gently tapped to the beat of an 80’s rock song playing in the background. He worn a black turtle neck with a grey wool jacket, black ripped jeans and brown boots. 

Nicolas had a classy style, and did not care what others think. He wanted to leave an impression in public by showing off his sense of style. 

The vampire heard the brief sound of a beating heart, before taking a sip of his drink. From the corner of his eye, a man took a seat beside him. Brown eyes briefly looked him over. Nicolas never recalled seeing him before, but that did not stop him from talking to someone new. “Do you come here often?” He asked, letting his British accent be revealed to the stranger.

always  dressed  for  someone’s  funeral.    that  is  what  someone  had  once  said  to  him  to  describe  his  style,    which  mainly  consisted  of  a  black  suit  and  tie,    no  matter  the  occasion  or  place.    the  comment  had  brought  a  cruel  smile  to  his  face.  even  here,  at  this  dingy  little  human  bar,  he  is  the    PICTURE  OF  DEADLY  GRACE.    black  leather  gloves  are  pulled  tight  against  his  wrist  as  he  moves  to  take  a  seat  at  the  bar.    

it  would  not  have  been  his  first  choice,  but  the  demon  he  has  come  to  deal  with  insisted  on  it.    promised  that  the  bar  had  charm.    if  it  did,  he  has  yet  to  see  it.  

❛ you point that thing at me you better pull the trigger . ❜   \   @magicruins​   .

      THE THING BEING HIS HANDS,  which glowed a deep sapphire blue, while his kohl-lined eyes narrowed. but did he truly wish to add another infraction to his ever-growing list ?  the lowering of his hands indicates no, he doesn’t, but they remain at the ready to defend himself. or throw the first blow. whichever happened first should things escalate.  ❝ what is it that you want, then ?  i’m not a fan of uninvited guests, sconosciuto. ❞

IF    BAD    SITUATIONS    were    a    person,    they    surely    would    be    madly    in    love    with    joana.    it    was    the    only    possible    reason    why    she    attracted    trouble    everywhere    that    she    went.    c’mon,    it    was    supposed    to    be    one    drink,    one    drink    for    her    to    relax    and    see    sense    after    bickering    with    eli    again!    and    all    of    a    sudden    there    she    was,    with    the    type    of    person    jo    would    never    trust    :    a    witch.    a    drunk    one,    by    the    way.    ❝    i’m    jo.    just    jo.    ❞    she    responded,    clearly    unamused.    straight    eyebrows    curving    upwards    and    giving    away    how    concerned    she    was    in    that    moment.    damn.    those    witches    were    brutal!    ❝    wait.    don’t    you    think    he’s    gonna    be    pissed?    azurine,    that’s    a    terrible    idea…    c’mon,    let    me    take    you    home.    i    think    you’ve    had    enough    adrenaline    and    booze    for    one    night.    this    friend    of    yours,    he    seems    reasonable.    should    i    call    him    to    pick    you    up?    ❞    because    even    though    joana    hated    witches,    there    was    no    way    on    earth    she’d    leave    a    drunk    woman    who    was    prone    to    making    awful    decisions    unattended.   

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙰𝚂𝚃 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙿𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂;    loneliness    branded    upon    their    souls    was    the    price    to    pay    for    Darius’    vain    ambition,    emotional    and    social    nurturing    forsaken    for    the    hazy    dream    of    elite    warlocks    who    would    act    without    hesitation    and    be    driven    by    ruthless    efficiency.    His    big    plan    had    failed    and    faltered    though,    and    the    PRIZES    he’d    collected    so    keenly    had    scattered    in    their    attempts    to    navigate    a    life    that    belonged    to    them    once    more.    Only    now,    when    they    all    seem    to    gravitate    back    into    each    other’s    lives,    does    the    true    extent    of    their    upbringing    make    itself    apparent,    and    it    makes    warlock’s    EMPATHETIC    heart    constrict    at    the    injustice    of    it    all.    She    was    sweet,    had    always    been    sweet,    and    the    man    who    was    supposed    to    protect    her    had    kept    her    LOCKED    AWAY    like    a    relic.    Even    back    then,    with    head    ducked    down    to    stay    out    of    trouble,    the    notion    had    seemed    monstrous    to    him    -    now    he    wishes    he’d    done    more    to    save    her    from    such    cruelty.

“    It’s    okay.    It    took    some    time    for    me    to    get    used    to    it    too    -    Mikel    has    the    patience    of    a    saint.    ”    He    lowers    himself    to    the    spot    on    the    floor    beside    her    without    hesitation,    back    to    the    wall    and    elbows    coming    to    rest    upon    raised    knees.    There    is    no    sense    is    hurrying    these    matters;    he    knows    from    experience    how    cracked    hearts    are    SLOW    TO    TRUST,    slower    still    to    believe    they    have    value    and    a    careful    pair    of    hands    willing    to    hold    it    all    together.    His    familiar    has    been    his    saving    grace    more    times    than    he    can    count,    now    he    thinks    it    is    time    to    extend    that    same    companionship    to    another.    “    I    should    have    helped    you    before,    when    we    were    kids.    I’m    sorry    that    I    didn’t…”    SHAME    makes    muddy    hues    almost    woeful,    but    there    is    no    reservation    in    hand    that    is    offered    to    her,    a    silent    gesture    of    solidarity    and    (    he    hopes    )    comfort.    “    But    I’m    with    you    this    time.    You    won’t    be    alone    again,    I    promise.    ”

in  another  reality,      they  might  have  been  friends.        had  circumstance  not  pitted  her  against  the  rest  of  them.      IT  WAS  WITHIN  HER  BIRTHRIGHT  TO  BE  ISOLATED.      a  one  of  a  kind.      throughout  the  years,    she  has  searched  for  possible  would-be  siblings.      many  warlocks  shared  the  same  demonic  parent  after  all,      but  nothing  ever  came  of  it.      either  they  were  better  at  hiding  than  her  or  she  was  truly  alone.      the  latter  seemed  more  likely.        “    mikel,      your  familiar...  you’re  lucky  to  have  found  him.    “          a  small  smile  graces  her  lips.        finding  a  familiar  was  rare,    given  how  they  were  made.      warlocks  with  criminal  pasts  that  had  not  ultimately  ended  in  their  demise.      they  are  given  a  chance  to  atone.    she  hopes,  should  anyone  judge  her  for  the  measures  she  has  had  to  take  to  survive,  that  they  will  offer  her  such  a  chance.      it  takes  strength  not  to  stand  when  felix  takes  his  place  on  the  floor.    not  that  she  does  not  want  to  be  close    --      in  fact  she’s  desperately  wanting  to  gently  be   held,    but  her  body’s  reaction  does  not  align  with  her  heart’s  desires.    frame  shifts,    shoulders  hunching  and  hands  move  from  her  sides  to  cling  together  in  her  lap.