Narcissus

"Uh huh," was all he said in response as he nodded his head. Prospero really needed to stop doing that or he was going to start looking as crazy as he actually was. At least this witch didn't really seem to care about how the tiefling had been staring into nothing for however long. A short laugh left his mouth at the other's suggestion. "You want me to go to a gloryhole? Oh no, I can't do that. Someone tried to bite my dick off one time. I've still got a burn mark from when I boiled their saliva." He patted the crotch of his pants as the words left his mouth. "I'm never alone." He paused. "But I am this time unfortunately."

"If I had a nickle for everytime that happened to me." Raffaele thought about it for a moment, "I'd have two nickles, which isn't a lot but it's strange that it happened twice." Bit of an oxymoron to stand there and say he was never alone and then follow up with the fact that he was alone this time. "Alright, so where's your posse tonight?" Raffaele looked around, jokingly, "Since you never leave home without them." Demigods, right, idly the witch wondered what it was that this one could do and if there was a way that he could somehow work that to his advantage. That was where his mind lived most often these days; what the people he met could do for him, and how he might be able to get them to help him along his path. It was one thing to want someone dead, it was another to follow through with it and not end up in prison.

"Anime as an elven tradition? Interesting, I'll add weib to your pronouns in my phone." It was always damn near impossible for Raffaele to tell when Tamlen was joking or being serious, the Worldly was big on negging to get the witch going, and Raffaele was just depraved enough to be into it. "It definitely wasn't my hand I wanted you to hold." Raffaele would never pass up an opportunity to make a dirty joke, especially where Tamlen was concerned. "But we can start there. Just don't play with any of the ghouls; the kids will follow you home." Graveyard superstitions had all started from somewhere, "Fortunately, there aren't many vengeful spirits around there... Otherwise, I wouldn't be very good at my job now, would I?" Raffaele brushed his fingers through Tamlen's silver hair, aware that the elve wouldn't go anywhere near the Narcissus Coven's most popular place of business. Funeral parlors weren't for everyone, and while Raffaele was resigned to working within them, it took a very keen relationship with death to appreciate them. That was at least part of why Kaan had affected him so deeply; his former sovereign didn't die. He was just gone. Erased. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Do you not feel very stable?" Caradoc knew the answer to that; he knew the whispers that rattled the coven. Kaan had been part of the Asphodel, but he'd repented. He'd come out of that for Raffaele, for those he loved, and here they were. That's where it'd gotten him - death and a cool statue. The demon had been listening, roaming the coven home like he could. Being a ferret had its perks. "This place doesn't feel the same, does it?" Normally, he had his run abouts, lazing the day away in Raffaele's room, or perhaps sunning in a nice spot. Now, everyone walked around with RBF's and a little bit of blood, Caradoc didn't mind, but he also had someone else to look out for.

Kaan was dead, Jian was gone, and now they were what... Are they supposed to carry on with their lives? Raffaele had spent weeks in a cell, he could still crack the jokes, and he was happy to play whatever part people needed him to play: witch, brother, mentee, son, boyfriend; none of it really mattered because everything just felt surface level and temporary. He'd learned long ago that things could be over instantly; Kaan's death just reinforced that. Caradoc had to be doing a bit, so Raffaele smiled, played into the joke, and rolled his eyes. "No, not at all. Crazy, right?" There was no leaving the Narcissus, not now; the mark ensured that all that was left was to make the coven into something he could stand to be a part of again. "Back in the day, they used to take the hands of witches who turned against their own kind." Tongues too. It made him think about Efigenia again. "Now they give them a psychiatrist."

"Right, anime. I wouldn't want to offend your rich elvish traditions of watching," he glanced towards the screen at the paused figures before he looked back towards Tamlen. "Anime."His fingers tilted the other's chin as Raffaele leaned in and gave a sour expression at the comment. "So you're saying I look tired." Raffaele was vaguely amused because Tamlen wasn't wrong, "It's a busy time of year for mortals around funeral parlors." He closed the short distance between them to press his lips against Tamlen's before he smiled, stood up, and started to worm his way across the buttons of his shirt. Thankfully, he hadn't been embalming anyone today, but Raffaele was still death-adjacent for the last eight or so hours. "You should come by sometime, I can show you around and introduce you to the ghosts." Still playful, as all over the place as Raffaele had been the last couple of months at least Tamlen had been consistent throughout; truthfully it felt like more than the witch deserved these days.

There wasn't one anymore, wasn't that the whole point? Caradoc wouldn't have to see Asmodeus again, at least that was a plus. He picked up his drink, complete with an umbrella. The familiar was more than willing to ensure that nothing happened to Raffaele again, but he couldn't do that if the witch was still feeling down and depressed. People died, they had to move on. Kaan was erased, slightly harsher, but still – they had a good thing going. "How do you feel with the new HBIC?" If there was one thing the demon could do, it was talk. He'd talk Raffaele's ear off until the witch insisted he left him alone. Then he'd shift, and annoy him in ferret form. Worked every time.

"Makes sense; Verna was a good sovereign; some stability is probably what the coven needs more than anything right now." He wondered if this would make Efigenia put a target on the sovereign's back, or how that would work. Kaan was part of the Asphodel, but he'd reformed, Raffaele didn't want to think that Verna had known about it but it was hard to know what to believe. The family he'd been so fond of for so long was fractured in a way that Raffaele couldn't reconcile. From where he came from, it was hard for him to trust people, but if it had been needed, there wasn't a single soul in the Narcissus that Raffaele wouldn't have bled for. Now he was in a house full of strangers, people he couldn't trust, and witches who seemed likelier to stab him in the back than do anything to help him. At least he had Caradoc, singular faith in a demon; how foreboding.

Good humor was something the witch possessed in spades, though more often than not, he used it to get under Tamlen's skin whenever possible. He liked to see the other blush, to feel the rise in the temperature as blatantly sordid words curved around his tongue. It started as a joke because he'd say something out of pocket and would hear Kaan sigh so loudly that it had to take years off his life. Maybe too many. Raffaele shook the thought from his mind; the habit of compensating or deflecting with humor was probably something the witch wouldn't be able to shake anytime soon.

closed starter for @raffaelexfiore location: raffle's apartment note: new phone who dis

"Did you get someone's number recently?" Raffaele asked as he raised his brow at his woefully inexperienced friend. Epimetheus was very cute, but the blushing virgin thing was so not Raffaele's thing; he hoped to be a bad influence on him. Somehow the two had become close friends, if nothing else then Raffaele was going to make sure that Epimetheus didn't turn 10001 - or however old he was this year - without losing his V card. "Here," Raffaele grabbed the phone and inputted his phone number into it. "there, see? Now click the number, and it'll call me."

Good humor was something the witch possessed in spades, though more often than not, he used it to get under Tamlen's skin whenever possible. He liked to see the other blush, to feel the rise in the temperature as blatantly sordid words curved around his tongue. It started as a joke because he'd say something out of pocket and would hear Kaan sigh so loudly that it had to take years off his life. Maybe too many. Raffaele shook the thought from his mind; the habit of compensating or deflecting with humor was probably something the witch wouldn't be able to shake anytime soon.

"I'm not trying to pretend that I'm okay." He furrowed his brow and cleared his throat, continuing, "I'm just trying to figure out how to exist in a world that doesn't have him in it." The witch had hoped for a fun night, but the heaviness of his grief had cast a dark cloud over everything. He longed to enjoy himself, but it felt too soon. Every time he looked at the people he had called family for so long, he felt burned by the memories of his loss.