MOVED TO SACCHARYNES.

❝  You’re dripping blood on the carpet . . . ❞

@serpentynes​ summoned     ⟶      lyric / poetry based starter.

lust   permeates   being               at   the   feeling   of   lips   against   neck   and   fingertips   gripping   back   of   hair.               they   put   on   a   show,         it   did   not   matter   about   lack   of   privacy,         he   allows   pleasure   to   be   written   plainly   along   expression.               after   all,         it   was   his   club.                  hand   is   pressed   firmly   against   the   small   of   his   familiar’s   back   in   order   to   press   the   other   closer.            loneliness   had   been   a   plague.         lucius’   introduction   into   his   life   had   nearly   squashed   it   from   existence.         their   souls   so   similar,         meshing   together   like            a   missing   puzzle   piece            once   ritual   had   been   complete.         they   simply   made   sense.            it   was   no   wonder   that   his   serpent   was   able   to   pull   attention   and   longing   away   from   the   one   who   had   always   occupied   his   desires   before,            even   if   only   momentarily.            

it   was         rather   unnerving            seeing   the   name   that   had   lit   up   phone   screen      :                     mikel   barrows   .               the   familiar   and   himself   always   at   odds   with   each   other.         the   only   common   factor   they   had   was   felix.            otherwise,         neither   were   shy   in   their            distaste.                  that   had   meant   something   was   wrong.            he   almost   hesitated   to   pick   up   the   phone   and   after   conversation   was   over,         wished   he   never   had.               addiction   was   a   way   to   cope.            something   hard   to   shake   and   felix   was         drowning            himself   in   it.                     reputation   called   for   coldness.         their   history   called   for   hatred.                        he   wasn’t   meant   to   care,            was   meant   to   carry   on   with   his   evening   as   if   nothing   happened.               that   was   proving   impossible.               “            god   dammit         ...      “               mutters   to   himself,         running   a   hand   roughly   through   ravened   locks   before   creating   a   portal.         it   takes   him   to   a   back   alley   right   outside   where   the   mutt   had   informed   him   felix   was   drinking   himself   into            a   stupor.                  

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 :   𝙶𝙰𝚁𝙳𝙴𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝙴𝙳𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝙵𝙵 .      baltasar   employs   many   supernatural   creatures   at   his    bar.      mostly   demons,    but   he’s   been   known   to   make   allies   in   almost   every   faction.     his   most   trusted  circle   consists   of:    lucius   vasquez,    his   familiar,     bela,    his   succubus   bartender,     estelle   rivera,    his   head   of   security   and   a   vampire,    and   billy   frazier,    his   werewolf   assistant.     details    about    each    of    them    and   their   connection   to   baltasar   are   under   the   cut.

every   word   uttered   and   action   taken   is   part   of            a   con.            anything   genuine   died   along   with   the   warlock   boy   who   was   discovered   roaming   the   streets   centuries   ago.      the   world            twisted   him,            gutted   him   inside   out.         they   saw   a   monster   and   so   they   produced   one.            the   garden   is   not   yet   opened   to   the   public,         although   it   is   drawing   close   to   that   time.            midnight                                    when   all   the   beasts   come   out   to   play.         he   shows   the   vampire   in,         pride   beaming.         all   the   sacrifices   made   and   battles   fought   led   to   this,         his   greatest   accomplishment,            a   safe   haven            for   those   seen   as   unworthy   by   mortal   eyes.         they   end   up   by   the   bar.         bela,         the   demoness   bartender   places   usual   bourbon   in   front   of   him,         then   raises   brows   towards   the   other.         all   that   is   needed   is   a   flick   of   wrist   to   shoo   her   away.      

closet   doors   are   opened   wide   ,                                 most   of   it   uniform,               dark   colors   and   suits.                  always   dressed   as   if   preparing   for            someone’s   funeral   or   a   business   deal.                  baltasar   is   drawn   to   a   designer   suit   jacket.            the   silk   feels   wonderful   underneath   touch.               although,            usual   attire   may   be         overdressing            for   today’s   planned   activities.            new   york   city   was   a   city   full   of         life   and   action.            he   barely   got   to   experience   it   outside   of   his   own   little   bubble.            according   to   felix,         today   would   change   that.                  “            what   does   one   usually   wear   to   experience   central   park?            “                        head   turns   towards   lover,               a   soft   grin   resting   upon   lips.         no   one   else   could   ever   talk   the   mortal   hating   warlock   into   spending   a   day         amongst   mortals.               in   the   early   hours   of   this   morning,            he   even   promised   to   behave   himself   to         the   best         of   his   capabilities.                        

𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙳 💬 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙼𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝚁𝙿 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂. / 𝙸𝙽𝙱𝙾𝚇 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂.

@serpentynes​  /  baltasar fuentes.

𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙾𝙻𝚅𝙴 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙽 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰𝙽 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳;    agony    has    claimed    his    heart    and    festered    in    the    days    since    he    was    abruptly    discarded    as    ‘nothing’    by    the    one    he    had    thought    to    find    a    home    in.    Yet    drowning    in    DESPAIR    has    been    the    easy    part,    heartbreak    a    great    swell    of    water    ready    to    swallow    him    whole    -    it    is    the    doubts,    the    confusion,    the    ‘why’s    that    have    picked    at    his    mind    over    and    over,    like    vultures    feasting    on    carrion,    that    have    been    the    strongest    source    of    TORMENT.    The    more    he    fixates    on    it    -    over    and    over    and    over    again    -    the    less    sense    it    makes;    how    love    given    and    returned    could    crumble    to    dust,    be    dismissed    so    callously    and    swiftly    after    souls    had    been    laid    bare.    The    latest    in    a    string    of    sleepless    nights    has    seen    a    bitter    resolve    take    hold    of    him,    guiding    limbs    and    thoughts    alike    in    his    journey    back    to    the    place    where    heart    had    been    broken.    There’s    a    pallor    to    skin    and    dark    circles    under    weary    eyes    that    allude    to    the    exhaustion    he    feels,    but    jaw    is    set    and    rigid    in    DETERMINATION    as    the    doors    to    Bal’s    study    are    thrown    open    from    a    mere    flick    of    his    wrist,    irises    flaring    a    resentful    red    in    the    process.

“    You’re    full    of    shit.    ”    His    sudden    arrival    is    punctuated    with    blunt    sentiment,    a    wealth    of    hurt    and    confusion    simmering    so    close    to    the    surface    and    ready    to    erupt.    A    SHARP    ACHE    in    the    chest    rises    when    gaze    finds    the    face    he    adores    so    wholly,    causes    throat    to    constrict    and    words    to    become    brittle    and    tight    -    but    still    he    persists.    “    The    things    you    said…    that    this    was    just    sex,    that    I’m…    I’m    NOTHING    to    you…    They’re    lies.    They    have    to    be.    I    don’t    know    why    you’ve    done    this,    but    I    don’t    believe    you.    ”    It    takes    no    time    at    all    for    him    to    march    round    the    other’s    desk,    finger    jabbing    into    chest    with    demanding    bitterness    before    grip    then    curls    imploringly    upon    the    lapel    of    expensive    suit,    as    if    ANCHORING    himself    to    Bal    might    be    enough    to    undo    the    chasm    forged    between    them    (    and    beneath    all    this    indignation    is    a    desperation    to    understand    where    something    so    perfect    could    have    gone    so    wrong.    )    “    What    are    you    keeping    from    me    ?    Spill.    ”

in   a   matter   of   days   the   player   embodies   the   pawn.               ravana’s   taste   of   victory   has   driven   them   to   hunger   for   more,            quickly   becoming         ravenous         for   it.         restfulness   is   a   distant   memory   now.         the   short   bliss            felt   within   lover’s   arms   is   what   powers   him   forward,         even   as   exhaustion   plagues   being.            elbows   rest   upon   the   desk   before   him.            fingers   gripping   onto   pages   from   a   grimoire,         which   give   instructions   and   ingredients   for   a   spell   on   how   to   take   a   greater   demon’s   power   to   make   it   your   own.            the   success   rate   of   such   a   spell   was         low            for   obvious   reasons.               it   was   exceedingly   dangerous   and   in   order   to   perform   it   there   needed   to   be            a   big   sacrifice.               even   he,         who   takes   any   opportunity   to   gain   and   expand   his   own   power,         had   not   considered   taking   such            a   drastic   step.               it   is   what   made   ravana   so   much   more            terrifying.            they   had   nothing   to   lose.               

door   makes   a   loud   bang   as   it   connects   to   the   wall,            causing   his   form   to   jump.            normally,            he   was            carefully   composed,            even   when   caught   off   guard.         reactions   were   always         minimal         so   that   they   could   not   be   used   against   him.         after   limited   hours   of   sleep   for   so   long,         it   was   growing   hard   to   keep   everything   so   in   check.         a   growl   begins   to   form   in   the   hollow   of   throat.         he   plans   to            tell   off            the   demons   that   are   meant   to   be   standing   watch,         but   it   dies   the   second   that   felix’s   face   comes   into   view.            

spell   is   hidden,                  subtly   shoved   underneath   frivolous   paperwork   for   the   garden.            chest   restricts   upon   hearing   and   seeing   the   other,         felix’s   voice   like   a   drug   that   he’s   been   depriving   himself   of   for   far   too   long.                  his   achilles   heel   returned.                     as   much   as   he   wants   to   bar   the   other   from   leaving   again,            fear   becomes   ice   in   his   veins.            if   ravana   knew   ...         expression   becomes   bored,         emotionless   despite   heart   going   into   a   frenzy   beneath.         touch   does   not   help   to   quell   relentless   feelings,      even   if   it   is   done   in   anger.            like   a   snake,         fingers   coil   and   then   strike,      wrapping   around   the   other’s   wrist   tightly,         pulling   felix’s   hand   away   from   his   chest.                  “            you’re   certainly         bold.               coming   in   here   after   i   told   you   to   leave   and   never   come   back.         “               every   fiber   of   being   screams   not   to   let   go,            but   he   does,         rather   heatedly   by   shoving   the   other’s   arm.      figure   rises   from   the   seat   it   had   occupied.            breath   nearly   catching   as   felix’s   scent   fills   nostrils.      oh,      how   he   wanted   to   get   drunk   off   of   it.