#deathlsslullaby

Agnes felt like she had the park to herself. While others were occupied with school, jobs, and the mundanity of the daily, Agnes chose to excuse herself from her classes for this particular time, aiming to wander the town’s park by herself in hopes of finding solace in serenity for her somber heart. She thought as she strolled in solitude, in retrospect, that it might have been better not to have skipped school. At least then, she could have had a chance to distract herself instead of wallowing in her loneliness. The day bore upon the girl like a brooding cloud, this time of every year reminded of the loss that left a deep-set scar.

She sat on an empty bench under the shade of maple trees. Her copper hair left undone to cascade the sides of her face and down to her shoulders while her head hung low. Though her visage was partly obscured by the waves of her locks, her misery penetrated through the teardrops that fell on her lap accompanied by faint sniffles. More often than not, hiding was what she viewed as her only resort.

Upon feeling the presence of the woman by her side, Agnes’ head quickly shot up, hastily running her hand over her tear soaked eyes. Agnes apprehensively watched the other with a cat’s caution, noticing the woman’s eye patch and a searching gaze that exuded a strange gentleness. Perhaps she also was facing some hurt of her own.

Agnes appeared like a lonesome phantom against the breeze, slow and reluctant. She could not put her finger on exactly why she undid the shroud of her invisibility, but there was something about the stranger’s visage that spoke of losses that rended in their own right— ones that could be greater than her own.

When the girl felt the woman’s tender touch wipe her cheeks free from tears that refused to stop, she initially flinched. What surprised her was how she did not find herself retreating completely. Instead, she felt herself warming up to the touch, needing it, even; though she felt unready to confess her pleas, she knew within that she needed someone to dry her tears and share her space when no one, especially her parents, would.

@deathlsslullaby ( caelyn ), non-verbal actions.

"I'm sorry--"

Dunk stopped, stunned, at the sight of this person's scarred eyes. There was a breath's moment where all he did was stare, inappropriate as it was. But then he collected himself, his throat bobbed on a swallow, and he straightened some even if he wasn't sure they could see him, if only to signify his seriousness.

"I'm sorry," he tried again, tone firmer in what he hoped sounded like renewed confidence. "I didn't see you there, erm..." Miss hung off the edge of his lips, but Dunk held it back. Somehow it looked like they weren't the sort to appreciate such things.

Nevertheless, Dunk bent to pick up the items he'd knocked out of their hands, carefully holding them in his own. Still crouched, he reached upward to brush the items against their fingertips in the hopes they'd be able to take them again.

@deathlsslullaby ( sarah ), unprompted.

For a moment, Dunk was unsure how to react. His first concern was whether he looked pitiful enough that such charity was warranted, but the genuine look of kindness in the girl's eyes told him that perhaps pity was no motivation at all.

"Thank you," he said in the end, accepting the bread with a small smile.

He reached over then, going through the bag he'd taken with him into the tavern. From it he procured a tidy jar of cider-- one of the gifts from his visit to Raymun Fossoway only a few days' past-- and offered it to the girl with a nod of his head.

@deathlsslullaby // the vampires are interviewing back

Daniel blinked at the question, caught off guard in a way he tried and failed to hide. His mouth opened, closed, then curved into a crooked, self‑deprecating smile. He pushed a hand through his hair, buying himself a moment he clearly needed. "Like them?" he questioned almost laughing. "I don’t know if that’s quite the right word."He leaned back, gaze drifting somewhere past the tall English vampire in next to him, as if the answer lived in a memory he wasn’t sure he wanted to touch. "It’s not… admiration or hero worship. It’s not that." His fingers tapped restlessly against his knee, a rhythm that betrayed nerves more than thought. "It’s more like...how do I explain it.."

He exhaled, shoulders sinking as his leg bounced. "Once you know they exist, you can’t stop thinking about them. They get under your skin. Into your head. They make the world feel bigger and stranger and… dangerous in a way that’s hard to walk away from."His eyes flicked back up, sharp for a moment, almost defensive."Maybe I was already halfway gone before I ever met one. Maybe I was looking for something to believe in. Something impossible...and vampires just happened to be the thing that answered back."He shrugged, but the gesture was too small to hide the truth. "So it’s not that I like them. It’s that once you’ve seen one, you’re never the same. And part of you keeps chasing that feeling — even when you know you shouldn’t."

@deathlsslullaby // correction received from mun that it's meant to be pats.

He is unsure how he feels about his head being patted, whether he is meant to feel like a kicked puppy or to be comforted by it, it is odd and unexpected but he did not pull away so that was one thing. Well, he was not a man that was unfamiliar with space invaders. "Yeah, yeah poor Danny" he chooses to take it as kindness and not as a derogatory gesture, knowing where it came from.

It had just been a polite handshake at a general event Armand had to attend. Nothing Armand really paid attention to, but just as he wanted to pull his hand back and move on to greet the next person, this woman in front of him took his hand in hers again.

Rather confused, the Vampire blinked a few times and studied her face. In her thoughts, he could hear why she pulled his hand back – his nails. Usually, no one was paying much attention to them. Maybe he should’ve put a glove on or something.

“Is something wrong with my nails?” he asked, even though he knew that this was not the case.

At first he was so absorbed into his thoughts that the gentle tugs at his locks failed to shake him. After that brief moment, though, he curiously turned his head, and his golden gaze fell to her.

"A bit rude to touch a stranger's hair, right?" These words are spoken softly and in tease, so their weight was questionable. He clearly didn't mind and found it endearing. He then ran his own fingers through it to show just how well taken care of it was- hardly a strand of frizz, and it fell thick and heavy over his shoulders.

"Maybe if you had both yours ears you'd be able to appreciate the artistry better"