#envenenna

"I genuinely want to know, swearzies pinkie promise cross my heart" Daniel responded and he supposed being a rather known concert pianist Luis might be used to being humored a lot, a fair few sycophants as well just saying things they thought the musician wanted to hear. "What can I say maybe I am naive. Maybe I am fishing to find out if you're attached, you'll never truly know, maybe it's a mixture of collum a and a little bit of collum b" the journalist lightly deflected the accusing chastisation of his foolishness to wonder if it was about a lover.

It was easy to listen to the pianist explain away such heavy subjects, and they were very heavy. He wondered if Luis was asked such a thing a lot so he was used to answering it both so professionally but also making it seem as if he was laying his heart on the table for his art. Daniel would take all of that in with that quiet, almost unnervingly attentive way he has — the way that makes people feel both seen and slightly exposed and when he finally would answer it would be with that blend of dry wit and genuine empathy he can never quite hide.

"More sense than you probably intended I suspect" Daniel answered, leaning back just a little as if he needed the distance to process the weight of what Luis had just laid bare. His eyes, though, stayed fixed on him — sharp, searching, but not unkind. "You talk about your heart like it’s some dead relic, but everything you just described… that’s not the voice of something hollow. That’s someone who still feels every cut, every shadow, every damn expectation that was ever thrown at him."

The last few nights had been nothing short of a silent war. Not between vampires and witches, no, that would’ve been too predictable. This was worse, more messier and even more personal. Hunters versus Slayers, one war she never thought to be included in, even when the signs had been there. It had been building for a while now, tension, bad blood. The kind that didn’t just go away, it simmered, waited, and then eventually exploded.

Literally.

One wrong move, one reckless plan, and suddenly an abandoned mall became a graveyard. Not just for the supernatural, but for people who had nothing to do with any of it.

Including July.

July being a potential slayer, or as how Mercy called them, a Slayer-in-waiting, now lying in a hospital bed, burned, broken, and suspended somewhere between life and death, all because a group of hunters decided they got to play judge, jury, and executioner.

The thing was, these hunters seemed to think they were above the law, uncaring of whether bystanders got hurt. Or rather, sympathizers. Anyone who didn’t share their view of the world was just as expendable in their eyes.

The potential Slayer in question had been placed in an impossible position. Her brother had been sired only days prior, and, whether anyone liked it or not, blood was thicker than duty. It pushed her toward him, toward trying to help him adjust to what he had become, to find some kind of balance in a life that had been violently rewritten.

But the hunters had other ideas.

And it all came to a head in a dark, calculated scheme, an explosion set off in an abandoned mall. A place rumored to house a few supernatural creatures… but not only them. There were also people hiding there, people down on their luck, using the space as shelter.

Collateral damage.

That was all they were.

The explosion left death in its wake, both supernatural and human, while others were left gravely injured. And now, with a potential Slayer among the victims, everything had escalated.

The Watcher’s Council had gotten involved.

Mr. Haustein, Mercy’s trusted Watcher, had assured her that the hunters would be brought to justice, that it would be handled.

But for now, she was to bite her tongue, to stay out of it, to not get involved any further, to stand down. To trust that the Council would handle it.

She hated that.

Hated the waiting, the helplessness, the idea that those responsible were still out there, breathing, while July wasn’t.

So when she heard the commotion, she didn’t hesitate.

Of course she didn’t.

She followed it straight into the alley, and straight to him.

The same vampire, only this time… he looked like he was already halfway gone. Mercy’s brows pulled together slightly as she took him in, the blood, the wound, the way something deeper than just injury seemed to be eating away at him.

“Did they do this to you?” she asked, softer than she probably should’ve. There it was, pity, inconvenient pity.

“I don’t know about granting mercy…” she murmured, the irony not lost on her, all while she slowly stepped closer.  Her hand slipped into her coat, pulling out a silver dagger, although, she had no intention of using it on him as she turned the sharp point towards her own. And then, without hesitation, she sliced across her palm, blood welling instantly. “Yeah… I’m definitely going to regret this.” She moved closer now, slower, deliberate.

 “Look,” she continued, holding her bleeding hand just within his reach, “I know you probably don’t trust me. Honestly? I wouldn’t either, slayer and all that... But I had nothing to do with this. I’m not here to play executioner tonight.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the alley entrance, alert, always alert, before returning to him. “You’re not going to make it unless you feed. And with hunters practically breathing down your neck…” she tilted her head slightly, “…this is about as generous as it gets.” She raised her hand a little higher, offering. “Take it or don’t. Your choice. But don’t get confused. This isn’t an invitation. You try to take more than what I’m offering…”

A beat.

“And I will remind you exactly what I am.”

Then, softer:

“Now stop being dramatic and fix yourself.”

If there was one way to Lestat's heart it was music. Of all the arts music was the one that captivated him the most, instruments, singing, experimental music, he was the sort of vampire that would weep at emotional pieces and on November 17th having received an invitation to attend a concerto preview, the tickets for the main events were all sold out, to attent this preview one had to be recognised as a patron of the arts and while the preview was free it was the sort of free that meant we do not charge for tickets as it was invite-only, but it is expected that you bring your chequebook. as they were fundraising for the restoration of the Cathedrical Basilica of St Augustine same as the concerto.

Less than 200 people were invited to the preview, and had he still been breathing, the pianist would have taken it away. Oh, the poor beauty, who hurt him so deeply to make his music so sombre...oh, if it had been appropriate, he would have ran after the concerto and taken him into his arms, kissed his eyes, squeezed him so hard he'd forget what it felt like to be in pain...but as it was not appropriate he would just send flowers to him. Each subsequent concert, whether Lestat attended it in the crowd or not Luis would find a bouquet of white roses, pink lilies, purple orchids and white carnations, each time the only hint was with deep admiration – L. The flowers would continue all up until February 1st where Luis' dressing room would lack the bouquet he might have grown accustomed to expecting to greet him....and after his concert it would be revealed why. As the crowd came to greet him, to praise him among them Lestat de Lioncourt holding that exact bouquet of flowers setting it on the nearest available surface ensuring Luis saw him, blew him a kiss from across the room and left. An envelope was left in the bouquet.

My dear Luis, I have listened to you play for nights uncounted, though I suspect you knew it long before I ever stepped from the shadows. There is a quality in your music that unsettles even me—yes, me, who has seen centuries rise and fall without so much as a tremor in my unbeating heart. But you… you strike the keys as though you are confessing something forbidden, something only the night itself is worthy to hear.And I find myself wanting—no, needing—to be the one you confess it to.

You are elegance without pretense, passion without spectacle. A rarity among our kind. When you play, I feel the world sharpen, as though every note is a thread pulling me closer to you. I admire you, Luis, more deeply than I have allowed myself to admit aloud. Consider this my surrender.

Valentine’s night approaches, and I would have you spend it with me—not as two creatures skulking through eternity, but as companions sharing an evening carved out of the endless dark. I promise you beauty, conversation, perhaps even a little mischief… and above all, my undivided attention, which is a gift I do not offer lightly. Join me. Let us make the night ours. Yours—more than I intended, Lestat de Lioncourt

In the envelope was a business card of a private plane company detailing flight arrangements to Miami Florida, he just needed to inform them where to pick him up from. Miami Florida did not seem to be the final destination, no, two stews would welcome him straight from the plane to a helicopter, informing him he was heading off the coast on a private yacht.

Wumuti prided himself in the wide array of books and tomes that he had been able to collect within the walls of his store, and even more so with knowing exactly where each book within his store was. The moment the vampire had strode in through the door, his senses followed the other curiously, unsure what to make of his presence.

He had only just gotten in the series of occult volumes that had immediately drawn the other and Wumuti smiled to himself. He loved that there was at least one book in his store for every person who came to wander its shelves and he wanted to provide a comfortable reading space for them to enjoy it in. It seemed he may have made things a little too comfortable, or perhaps he was the only one who would see it because of his heightened senses.

His intention hadn't been to bother when he'd floated toward the corner where the other sat reading through the book, but he happened to be near the shelves he was placing some new acquisitions on, as well as one of the displays of his art prints that he was adding to when he glanced over and noticed the fang glinting lightly with the vampire's concentration.

The first question put him on the defense and he was ready to state that his bookstore was open to any and everyone who wished to come inside, but his words died in his throat at the next question. Had his ears been out, they would have gone straight up in surprise, and he found his hand going subconsciously up to his throat, not necessarily a guarding, but thoughtful, gesture. "I...suppose a bold comment deserves a bold response." He whispered before his eyes flickered lightly as a thought came unbidden from a dormant side of him he still didn't know. "But is it a threat or a temptation?"

The corners of his lips twitched up as the other steps out of the shadows, the elder vampire not even bothering to turn from where he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the ruffles of his shirt before he left to attend to his duties for the evening. duties he may well now put on pause, with the reentrance of the other. "You know I am far too much older than you to be tricked by shadows." Leoneil states, nearly 400 years the others elder, not to mention far more powerful. Though that was no slight to Luis himself... Leoneil had been far more powerful as a fledgling than most, his bloodline one of the oldest, tracing back directly to the mother of all vampires herself.

Tonight should have been a very special and monumental night. A lot of calculated planning and plotting had been set in motion to make this happen. Tonight should have been the night for their newest novice to be moved up into the inner circle, a promising novice at that, a very capable witch who had vowed she was ready to do what it took.

Which, unfortunately, when it came down to it, involved offering up a man, one she had seduced and lured to come along willingly. So far, that had been going well. Venera had been in the background, in the same lounge, watching the spectacle. Of course, she was there to oversee everything and step in if needed. All had been going well. The novice had found a suitable person, and from what Venera could tell, he was about to give in. But then everything seemed to change once this other man, a vampire, actually, arrived and decided that the human was now going to be his target. And it seemed that said target was leaning more toward falling into the vampire’s charms.

Which left the novice without a target and running out of time. After all, this entire ritual had to be done when Venus was highest in the sky, which would be around the next sunrise. And now all of that had fallen into jeopardy. Especially now that the vampire and the target had both left to get some “fresh air,” likely.

To Venera, this was a mockery… how dared he to trash all that hard work and simply sweep in and steal the target? Well… despite the fact that she was irritated, perhaps even fuming on the inside, Venera hardly ever lost her temper, nor did she ever showcase it. So rather than raging, she simply got up and followed them after a moment. Finding them wasn’t difficult; she headed for the first alley she could find, and wouldn’t you know it, there the vampire was, fangs deep in the target’s throat.

How typical, she thought.

“Ahem…” she sounded, stepping in closer. “Enjoying ourselves there, signore?” There was no point in stealing the target back now, as she assumed he was likely about to be drained or something. “Rather bold of you to be doing this out here in the open… don’t you know about the hunters?” Not that she ever cared for them, nor did she care much for the vampires roaming these grounds. “You are aware that my sweetest friend back inside was in the middle of charming him, and they were just getting to that sweet point of things… until you swooped in and decided to change that. How absolutely outrageous of you… only to feed on him like he is some quick snack. Care to explain yourself, signore? Did someone send you to do that?”

Bill had briefly wondered if he was going to get a response. He figured a good time to message the younger vampire was before he headed to work for the evening.

He had just finished putting on his waistcoat when he got a text back, smiling when he saw it.

[Text]: Glad to hear it! And that's also good. Regeneration is handy for those days, isn't it? No problem.

Bill took a moment to send some directions, as well as an image of a map to where it was in the city.

[Text]: Your dashing rescuer? Yes, he's got an evening off so he'll most likely be there. But he did say that if you'd rather not see him, he'll understand. I guess he's concerned about that revealing that's actually a dog spirit was off putting.

It seemed like Bill had no idea what had actually happened, and Leofric had kept it quiet out of respect for Luis' privacy.

Medina did not speak at first instead her gaze lingered on Luis, steady and searching.

Admittedly… that night, she had allowed him to taste her. And perhaps more than that. It had been sinful, undeniably so, and yet, strangely liberating. She was not one to let others get close. Not like that. Not to bite her, to taste her, to touch her… to make her feel something so dangerously close to euphoria. And she did not entirely know what it meant.

More often than not, she struggled to maintain meaningful connections, let alone something… romantic. She had never expected him to remain at her side, not truly. Not like immortal lovers bound by something deeper than hunger.

And yet…

A part of her had wanted that, perhaps that was the problem. Or perhaps it was simply her reluctance to admit what she felt.

That night, beneath the blood moon, she had felt untouchable, elevated. As though nothing could reach her, neither physically nor emotionally, as though her choices carried no consequence.

But now… The moon was gone.The sky had returned to something far more ordinary.

And still, he was here. That, more than anything, she appreciated. Though, truthfully, she had been in the middle of something.

A man stood before her moments ago, early thirties, charming enough, slightly intoxicated. Easy and convenient. She had intended nothing more than a simple feeding. A bite, a whisper, a command… and then he would have been sent on his way, none the wiser.

Nothing more, nothing meaningful but then Luis appeared. She had not heard him arrive, had not sensed him soon enough. And yet, there he stood, fangs almost bared, something sharp and possessive flickering behind his gaze.

He did not like it, that much was clear.

So… she stopped.

“Leave,” she murmured softly to the man. “Go home. And next time… do not allow yourself to become this drunk, wandering off with strangers so easily.”

The compulsion settled instantly as the man turned, confused and dazed, and disappeared into the night. Only then did Medina turn back to Luis, her expression touched with quiet curiosity, something almost puzzled in her gaze.

“Now…” she began, tilting her head slightly, studying him, “would you have found it more acceptable if that had been a woman?” A faint, knowing look crossed her face. “I should warn you… I tend to be more… attentive with them.” Her voice softened, laced with something teasing. “Cherishing the softness of their necks… the way their scent lingers perfume, warmth… something almost intoxicating in itself. Dare I say… I can be rather adoring.”

Her eyes lingered on him, watching carefully.

“He was nothing more than a passing indulgence,” she continued lightly. “A simple snack. I had no intention of offering him anything beyond that. I do not find the same… satisfaction in mortals.” Her voice lowered just slightly. “Not when compared to an immortal. Not when compared to you.”

Another step closer now, the space between them thinned.

“But now that you are here…” she murmured, her gaze locking with his, “We could pursue something a little more… euphoric. Or…” She leaned in just enough for the suggestion to linger between them. “You could take his place instead.”