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@aftermccnsâ has sent:Â â itâs the silence that scares me. â
MOUTH PARTS just to close the next instant. He doesnât want to make a sound  but her mere presence requests it.  â You donât  have to leave, stay. â He finally manages to speak, his gaze lowering from her, not wanting her to see the desperation that rests in his eyes.  â We can go for a walk? â
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â i didnât know where else to go. â // to hazel
@aftermccns
Hazel stared over at the other woman, debating on what she should do. She was hesitant to let anyone in the cottage for her own protection. But she didn't have the heart to leave the woman alone outside in the cold.
"Alright. Hurry and get inside." She gestured with her head to motion her to come in.
@aftermccns said: âPlease donât say mean things to me.â
"Okay...Sorry. I didn't mean to say 'shut the fuck up' I just meant -- please be temporarily quiet? Look, I'm not trying to be a dick. Usually I am, but not right now, so that's my bad."
@aftermccns asked: "A pumpkin spiced latte? That sounds good...but what is a pumpkin? Are they normally spicy?" // to elijah - unprompted
Heâs heard a handful of pumpkin spice jokes already but no one has asked with such a genuine sound. Usually a laugh or smile played into it and Elijah usually forced one so his customer wouldnât feel like an idiot but he gives her a more confused look for just a second, âItâs a fruitâŠâ eyebrows pinch for a second but he clears his throat and starts to make the drink for the thousandth time today, he wants to recommend something else but he keeps quiet this time around, âAnd no, itâs not spicy. Itâs more earthy and sweet but itâs the spices that make it⊠a pumpkin spice.â Not minding the explanation, âAre you new around here?â He had a lot of regulars or at least people that stopped in every so often, heâs never seen her around before.
đ
everyone sending âđâ in my inbox gets a kiss from my muse.
â he'd once been known as the wolfkiller, the feared slayer of beasts, the pride of auvergne. and here he is, a wolfgirl in his hands, beautiful as the moon herself. oh he could, if he wanted to, pierce that neck of hers and spill her blood and continue the wolfkiller's legacy. but he never desired that for himself. the killing of those wolves was a necessity, it was to keep his family and people safe, and it cost a large sum, one he'd like to never have to pay ever again. there's a reason he no longer keeps dogs or horses. trying to kill this wolf would only lead to disaster, as delicious as it might've been.
the difference between lust and murderous desire is hazy at best for lestat, even in his calmest moments. when blood tastes like love, is it really his fault?
he chokes down the thoughts by leaning in and kissing her, locking their lips passionately, a bit too brutish, and in another life he might've been ashamed, but not in this one. he grips her hair tight in a balled fist, and does his best to ignore the scent of her blood, the pulsing of her heart, the veins in her lips. there are many ways to slay a wolf, one could say.
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@aftermccnsâ sent:Â Â Â "Do all humans look like you?"
  Quite honestly there was a certain flattery that went with her question despite it being so totally ridiculous that anyone would look to him as the example of humanity. Almost didnât want to tell her he bared more a resemblance to hell than he did anything human. Couldnât have her going around thinking he was the norm.
  âSorry to disappoint both of us, but nah. Not even close.â
@aftermccnsâ sent: "woah...you are tall!" // to rollo - unprompted
Itâs strange to hear her candid observation because Rolloâs never once considered himself to be tall. Among his own people, he is of an average height and build. Surely, nothing to wonder at and remark on. However, it brings a smile to his face anyway, mostly out of curiosity as to why sheâd think such a thing. Do most people think the same way about him? When he sailed off to other lands and raided their villages, he didnât stop to ask their opinion of him. âDo you truly think so?â he asks with a hearty laugh, amused by her assessment. In fact, heâs a little curious to know what else she thinks of him. That is, if she cares enough to speak whatâs on her mind. And Rollo wonât find offense in it either because this is like a game where one guesses who the other is based on physical characteristics. He crosses his arms over his chest as he awaits her answer, canting his head to the side to better perceive her thoughts. If such a thing were possible. Part of him isnât sure whether he simpy wants to hear what she has to say or if he wants to refute it. Not about the remark on his height, no. Other things. Personality traits or unspoken thoughts that linger within the depths of his eyes or more on his appearance, which the overly vain side of himself would love very much. Probably not the best trait, but he wonât deny it if itâs also brought to the surface. âTell me, what else do you think? Iâm curious to know.â
"Maybe you should sit down."
@aftermccns - what's exhausted, pale, and covered in blood?
Kalmar pauses, frowns, instinctively straightening his back and squaring his shoulders at the unfamiliar voice. Turns, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye. How much can she see? Most it's soaked into the much-abused black robe, surely could be anything. Only the occasional droplet landing on the pavement, an unfortunate scent trail sourced from somewhere inside his left sleeve.
He'd really been hoping he could find somewhere to go to ground before running into anybody.
Not that he has a problem with shocking strangers, mind you, but he looks and feels closer to a murder victim right now, and, if somebody were determined to fuck with him -- or if they simply called the fucking cops -- he's not sure how well he could hold out.
Maybe he should just keep walking. He doesn't. Better deal with it now than be followed, right? Something like that. He turns the rest of the way, gaze sharp and defiant. "Says whom?"
