#audaciiae

There's a strange familiarity to the situation. A deja vu that makes him feel like he's been here before. In pain and struggling to hold on, the only person on his mind being Victor.

It feels like he's dying.

Why does he know what that feels like?

God, how it fills his heart with joy to see the excitement on Victor's face, eyes greedily taking in the moment as Henry watches him flick through the book. "I'm thrilled that you like it. I must admit, I was concerned that it would be the completely wrong choice and you'd think me an idiot." It's probably a little concerning how much he worries about Victor's opinion of him. Sciences and the arts rarely mingle, he's worried that he'll think him all show and no substance.

It'd been a long night. They went out together after Swan Lake, Percy and Victor, and Percy, at the very least, was in no condition to be driving home. Nor did he want to go back to the apartment he shared with Felicity. He would never say it aloud, because she was his sister and he did care about her, he'd raised her, but...

There was something about Victor that... That tugged at him. Tugged at him in ways he hardly understood. Felicity was a grown woman, after all, she would be alright for one evening by herself. Percy was sure of that.

As the enter the small little hotel room, Percy turns to Victor. He still felt that tug, that pulling at his heart, wide eyes set on him. It felt like they'd been dancing around each other for centuries, rather than just a couple of months.

Kyle's been watching the guy for the past half an hour. He sees a lot of lonely people. They drift in and out of the bar like ghosts. Sometimes they meet people for the night; other times they go home alone, returning the next day to repeat the cycle. It's hard. New York's a big city, but it can sometimes be the loneliest place in the world.

"oh, no, they don't." Percy confirms, then giggles, turning his hand to fully hold Victor's. "ah-- no, what i mean is, they do not trust you! or... they just do not know you, you understand?"

No, he probably doesn't understand. That only made sense, though, Percy was doing a truly awful job at explaining. Bad enough that even he recognized it! He swallows, giving Victor's hand a little squeeze.

"what i mean, victor, is that, ah... i am friends! friends? with them? and we were. we were quite close before i met you and..."

"Of course, forgive me - I simply forgot that everything is on your terms, Louis." Armand's voice is snippy, eyes narrowing as long fingers clasp together in his lap. "Your knack for avoidance would be impressive if it wasn't so infernally frustrating."

"Are you going to evade conversation every time Lestat's name comes up? Or is it that you do not want to speak of him with me?"

Fist hammers the door of Conall's home, a panicked expression on Dorian's face. He looks around, peering into the darkness to see if he has been followed. He does not even know what time it is. Late.

He is haunted by visions of her. And, more disturbingly, that cruel smirk that now resides on his portrait. The ugliness of the expression keeps him awake at night.

"It is my fault she is dead." The words tumble out of Dorian as the door opens, frantically pushing himself into the hallway.

Jesus smiles softly to himself as dawn breaks on the 40th night, eyes closing in gentle prayer of thanks to His Father.

His body aches, his stomach growls in hunger, and yet there is a sense of fulfilment and strength to be drawn from having withstood the tests of Satan.

"Michael." Jesus whispers the name, gently asking them to come. He wants them to be the one to escort him from the desert. After time spent with Lucifer, He has gained a new understanding of the complexities of the rebellion.

A new understanding of Michael.

He waits for them to appear, hands clasping behind his back.