@conaumeddarkness
Nicolas had gone to coffin just like he always did; his coffin was shoved in the closet of his little apartment, windows covered with blackout curtains. Some days he chose to sleep in the bed, surrounded by plush blankets and pillows. A luxury he'd never been afforded as a mortal, in the days of hard-feather beds and reeking furs.
He'd been in his coffin for a few days now, finally emerging due to growing hunger. Nicolas stepped out of his coffin, wrapped in one of his many blankets- but froze when he saw that he was not alone. Armand, sitting on his bed. Armand, covered in dust, shirt stained with blood. An image from underneath Les Innocents wearing modern clothes. He wanted to run, but the path to the doorway was blocked.
Still, Nicolas decided to run. He pulled the blanket from his shoulders and threw it at Armand- as if that would distract him- and bolted for the door.
