#evilanew

another missed call from 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓, followed by a stunted voicemail.

the eldest molloy sibling looks at their phone and gives a scoff— an eyeroll to follow before their phone is tucked back within the pocket of their jeans. cigarette in their other hand is finally tossed to the side, long forgotten about and mostly had just been something to keep their focus, to keep their hands busy while they waited anyway.

how many times had talia almost talked herself out of this? how many times had she told herself that just being here was stupid? she had a life, a coven, a whole beautiful world of her own. where was the sense in even peering into this for a moment?

their feet shift, weight switched between feet out of human habit she still kept even now, almost a decade into immortality and their ghostly blue eyes flick over to the back door that finally swings open and, well, there it is, decision made for them. their curiosity won, damn the consequences...

because there he was, the infamous brat prince rockstar and talia felt a flicker of that damned molloy curiosity grow even brighter and draw her forward with precise vampiric speed.

@evilanew asked character creation questions / accepting

𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓫𝓲𝓭 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓽𝔂.

doe eyes grow wide & wider still to behold such a lovely home, ornate in its furnishings & decor, rich, dark wood – mahogany, perhaps ? – carpeting with intricate designs woven in & books, books, books galore adoring the shelves ! none too terrible a place to find oneself in on her journey towards a purer self after the waking nightmare that was the dark plague cast on wistberg, her home, the home of dear friends, her very mind – ! breathe. relax your shoulders, girl. you are safer & saner than you seem. indeed, the air is cleaner here in america, full of bright music, smelling of freedom. 

{♚ x –  𝗨𝗡𝗨𝗦𝗨𝗔𝗟  𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡  𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗦  ! x}

The dumbest injury Matt could get, by far, would be him rolling his ankle while walking Bao.

Just imagine... This dude literally parkours over rooftops, climbs up and down buildings, actively practices a variety of martial arts and gets into the most dangerous of situations while working for the clan...

And then he incapacitates himself stepping off the curb in a wrong way because Bao insisted on wanting to smell a spot on the side of the road. Yup.

"They are not riddles, Lestat, they are tongue-twisters. To help with your speech." He sat next to Lestat, sliding the piece of paper over. "Look. See." Four lines of text, written with a careful intention that his other correspondences so often lacked.

«Didon dîna, dit-on, du dos dodus d'un dodu dindon.» «Si six cents scies scient six cent saucisses, six cent six scies scieront six cent six saucissons.» «Un chasseur sachant chasser sait chasser sans son chien.»

@evilanew inquired ─── ( hunger ) : for SENDER to struggle visibly with thirst near RECEIVER.

𝐀 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲. A secret sense ― no pure instinct ― took over David and led him to know that the look now the immortal creature was bestowing him across the crowd was anything but what seemed to be his characteristic easy amusement seen within his promotion photos and interviews. The famous vampire turned rockstar Lestat's gaze was fixed like a predator's...

An image crossed his mind, unwanted but inescapable. Red and black striped fur, the great fanged maw reaching for him - to press its eager tongue against the gold chain at his neck. That's what this gaze felt like to David; singling him out amongst the jungle of people dancing under the stage lights. All these nights, city to city, he had carefully spent observing but not being noticed had seemed to finally run its course.

Or had Lestat simply known all this time and he was played the fool?

David drew a cautious step back, trying to blend back into the brush of moving fans, and attempted to throw up incomprehensible images to cloud his thoughts from being perceived. Yet, he didn't feel like he'd so easily lose his pursuit.

Those vibrant blue eyes pierced him still in the darkness. And so in a last ditch effort his lips parted  ―not a sound heard above the din for those with mortal ears  ― but for those who sought to listen... ❝   Is all this so unbearable ?  ❞ 

@evilanew

Nicolas would have been content to remain in this moment. Bare skin sticky with summer heat and heart pounding with the evenings vigor, Nicolas could only smile. A thousand and one reasons for why his ears burned and cheeks felt plum. Were he to list every which way Lestat had seduced him they would grow old in this room (such a fate sounded sweeter than an apple freshly plucked from its tree): 'It's the way your tongue moves against your lips. The sound of your voice traveling across a room. Your jaw going slack as you finally doze off. The smell of your neck in the morning and the feeling of your hands, strong from cutting wood, gently traveling my body as though it's a new road each time.'